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“… I’m driving you nuts?”
“Mmm …”
Leighton pulled me in as Billy Paul started crooning his soulfulMe and Mrs. Jones.
“I don't know it. I didn’t grow up with any music, baby.”
When he told me how old the song was, I whispered to my handsome dance partner, “This would have qualified as an oldie but goodie for your parents!”
“Where do you think I heard it, my darling? Some music ages well, don't you think?”
Our slow dancing had no particular style. Probably no style at all except “hold on and kiss”. But Leighton swooped me backward as the song ended.
I got my preference in first, “Trousers!”
My dance partner pretended to be chagrined, “Awww! Well ... Okay, then! You first.”
“No, no, no, you tease. Together!” I insisted and we stepped away from each other and removed our pants.
Next was Earth Wind and Fire withAfter the Love Has Gone. I didn’t know this one, either, but it was sad, sensual, and even erotic as Leighton pressed into me.
He feathered my cheek with his. He swirled us slowly around. Sort of to the beat but neither of us paid much attention to that.
“For a while, to love was all we could do …Somethin’ happened along the way…” My partner crooned in his luscious bass voice for the first time.
Oh. My. Good. Gracious! His voice! More than beautiful! It soared. It took deep dives.
It seduced me.
“Baby! You sing!?”
He was so cute! He blushed. “Well … yeah.”
“Sing it to me, baby. Oh, please?? Keep singing to me!”
And he did. I thought I’d strip all his clothes off then and there and ravish him!
Oh. My. God. His voice vibrated my every last cell with wonder. I couldn’t …
I was nearly in tears it was so beautiful!
And all mine. A private concert.
“That’s right, beautiful. All yours. I’m all yours.”
I leaned back to look at him. He chuckled, “Not a mind reader. You said it out loud.”
“Shirts!” he pounced as the song came to an end—all the while wiping a tear that refused to drop from the corner of my eye.
I complained, “You took advantage of my weakened state!”
He laughed and pointed at me, “All’s fair!”
I complained some more, but with a dreamy grin on my face, “Thank god you’re not a professional singer. I’d have far too many groupies to fight off!!”
He just waved at my buttons, “No fudging—shirts off!”
Off they flew. “Baby? Put another one on that you know. Sing for me some more.”
