Monday, September 19, 2011

Who's That Girl...

He saw her first from across a crowded room. He'd tell that story at least a dozen times in the next three days, and always end with the obvious; that he couldn't miss her because she was hard-to-miss in a room full of five-year olds.

Her official job title was Instructor, made more specific depending on the hour and the dance and the age of her students. Mostly, her little ladies and two little men called her Miss Butterfly, because even when she was standing perfectly still, she looked like she was fluttering. It was the strangest thing.

He was picking up his daughter after a frantic call from his ex. He didn't mind one bit; any time he could spend with his little butterfly was welcome. And as soon as he tore his gaze away from the instructor - a nearly impossible feat - he found his girl and smiled for the first time all day.

She saw him first from across a crowded room. She'd tell that story at least a dozen times in the next three days, and always end with the wonderful; that the second she saw his smile, she wanted one all her own.

Long, complicated, and hot story shorter, they met for an early dinner four days later. It was the longest four days of their lives. And when he gave her a hug in the restaurant lobby, he didn't want to let her go. She wouldn't have minded if he didn't.

Their first kiss was a double firework. He didn't want his lips to be away from hers ever again, but there they were in the valet line with three surfer boys in ties staring at their goodbyes. When he pulled away, she gasped, covered her lips with her fingers, and fluttered with wanting him. And he couldn't help but smile - all for her and all her own - and murmur "Well, damn. I certainly can't leave you like this, Butterfly."

And, much to the delight of the three surfer boys in ties, he didn't.

This girl deserved a story. Hope you loved this one. And Happy Monday, you beautiful things!