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His Gal

I turn and head towards the VIP section when the initial keyboard notes of Tony Terry’s ‘With You’ begin to play. My steps falter slightly and I halt as a fragrance floods my senses as I recollect the many times I have listened to this song, danced to this song with one particular man. It is our song and I refuse to dance with anyone else to this song. Usually, when it plays I change the song. I sense a presence behind me and think that whoever this man is will need to know I am sitting this one out. However, I realize that the scent is not coming from my recollection but from this being. There is only one man I know that smells this delectable. No matter how long it has been I always remember exactly how he smells and his scent always takes me over the cliff emotionally. I feel a whisper of a breath on my neck and a soft rumble in my ear, “Happy Birthday, Gal. As he speaks it elicits a flood of memories as only he can. I close my eyes and inhale slowly then exhale slowly, gathering my nerves and thoughts. Only two men call me Gal. Then I feel him touch my elbow and gently turn me towards him. “Will you join me for a dance?” My gaze travels upward and I am unsure if it is fatigue, alcohol, all of this male specimen in my personal space, or a combination of all the above, but my tongue is paralyzed. I can’t even form a coherent thought and I begin to scrutinize this man. I linger on his lips and get to his chest before I catch myself and realize he has asked a question. “I apologize. What was your question,” I ask irritated by the huskiness in my voice and clear my throat? His eyes twinkle and there is a grin on his lips as he repeats his request to have me join him for a dance to our song.

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