Do You Remember?

Chapter 2

Stanley Dane

I'd been watching her from afar before she took notice of me. I was there even before Richard entered the club. I'd seen her on the security cameras. It was one of the perks of being a close friend of the Habibs.

The way that guy looked at her and tried to touch her stirred the jealousy in me. He did in fact, touch her, a few times, which she barely seemed to notice. How incredibly happy and down-to-earth she appeared. I continued to watch her, mesmerized until I could stand it no more. I had to be there, in that club, watching her closer.

Everyone there wished they could hold her, and I felt the same. The more I watched her, the more I wanted to grab and kiss her and do everything that a man could do to a woman. Something about her had overtaken me. I swear I was never like this, ever.

It shocked me to learn that Richard, my good old friend, knew her. He claimed they were just friends, someone he knew. And over ten minutes later, she was standing before me.

The first time our eyes met, it felt like electricity. There was no denying the instant, intense chemistry between us. The deeper I looked into those eyes of hers, I discovered a genuine soul not out for a one-night stand, or an outlet to mend a broken heart. The revelation scared me and I hated the idea of shattering such genuineness.

Emerging from a recent divorce, the last thing I needed was to lead myself, or someone like her, down a path of repeated painful history. I would not hurt her and so she mustn't know my true identity. It was best if I barely spoke. I'd already instructed Richard to keep my identity secret, even before she came near. He concocted a plan to tell her I couldn't speak English, and we made sure to keep our conversations to a minimum, which we did. Except for a few whispers here and there, he and I barely spoke. There was no way she could ever guess who I was.

The night progressed, too fast honestly. Richard and I ordered drink after drink, and I found it quite easy to relax and enjoy the moment.

At first, I tried to ignore the energy before me, but my betraying eyes always trailed back to linger on her, as everyone else dissolved before me. It was as if no one but the two of us existed inside that cramped club. And I dare say, I enjoyed stealing glances and long looks at the young siren who barely appeared tired, dancing for hours before me, and taking very few breaks. What energy she had and what moves? I had to tear my eyes away from her seductive dancing too many times.

I couldn't think. I kept dreaming of her dancing in my bedroom. I kissed her lips and removed her clothes a hundred times, and by the time she leaned closer and whispered, her candy-scented breath sent ripples throughout my body, and I barely heard a word she said until she must have repeated herself.

"No speak English?" she asked.

I felt my face flushed to be caught with an unexpected question with her standing so close to me. I forced myself not to grab her and kiss her madly as I tried to think. If I said anything in English my cover would be blown and so I just put on a face as if I couldn't understand her. The pretense caused a smile to escape my lips, and when she repeated her question, a bigger smile escaped. Maybe my smile put her mind at ease, for she continued dancing, barely seeming to be bothered by me. How does one get to care so much about dancing?

I must admit, at times I felt a little guilty, wondering whether I'd been right in concealing my identity. I relived painful moments from times long past, from my childhood to a time not too long ago—trying times with my ex-wife. I recalled the fear and hopelessness etched on my aunt's face as she hurried my cousin and me off to a motel, where we waited till Uncle Joe's temper had cooled before returning to him. I never understood her reason for returning to that beast, even though she went through the same situation umpteen times.