“Isolde will be performing a program she choreographed herself, and then we’ll start the drum circle. It’s time to celebrate the winter solstice and great stillness, before the days get longer.”
More applause. Thomas and Margo wandered off to watch Isolde from a better viewpoint. He asked, ‘You coming?”
“No, you go ahead.”
The mayor closed her announcement with, “Enjoy the performance.”
The band played slow, sweet, mystical music, while Isolde prepared her silks. Everyone waited and watched as she wrapped the silks around her ankles and prepared to twirl. The burgundy silks flowed around her, twisting and twirling in the dancing firelight from the bonfire.
A drum beat. The band played more quietly. A drummer stepped towards the fire. Isolde did the splits, a silk wrapped around each ankle. She spun slowly.
A drum beat. The fire danced. Wood crackled, and flames leapt out of the circle towards the sky. Isolde spun. A second drummer stepped towards the fire. An enchanting feeling enveloped me, lulling me into harmony with the moment. Sparkles of ash flickered up to the heavens, floating as if woven into the music. The drummers grinned at each other and started a harmonizing beat. The band continued to play. The townspeople swayed and moved to the music. A group of middle school children swung from the branches of a tree, knocking feet to make each other fall. They laughed and did it all over again.
A drum beat. I put my mug on the empty wine barrel next to me. A third drummer joined the circle, placed a chair next to them, put his drum on the ground and started a rhythm. A beat. The mayor joined the drummers with a tambourine. I covered my mouth to hide a smile. She wore an eighteen-inch headdress. It was a sharp detour from the suits I usually saw her in.
A drum beat. It pounded in my chest. The deep beat of the drum’s vibration. People swaying. People dancing. People kissing.
And then I saw him. Across the bonfire. Like a vision. I blinked. He was still there. Standing back from the party, his golden eyes bore into mine. I couldn’t look away. My chest heaved in the tightness of the corset. I took a step back from the crowd. I continued to stare.
Like a predator, he walked slowly around the outside of the group circling the bonfire. The drums beat. I could barely breathe.
Closer. I watched him on my left. He wasn’t in a costume. His jeans were snug on his strong thighs. The bulk of his winter jacket making him seem even larger. With his hands in his pockets, he continued to step slowly around the circle towards me.
More drummers joined the circle. The drums were louder. Sitting on their small folding chairs, they beat to a tune of celebration.
When my eyes could no longer follow him, I turned my body in his direction. We were feet apart, longing and desire mirrored in our eyes. He reached out his left hand, and I took it with my right, linking my small hand with his larger, calloused one.
He looked away, and stepped towards the forest. I lowered my head and followed, watching his booted feet lead us into the darkness.
Deep into the forest, we stopped at a spruce tree. He stepped behind the wide girth of it and placed me up against it. Neither of us spoke. He pushed up against me and buried his face in my neck. He inhaled and nuzzled my soft skin. I lay my head back against the tree and sighed. He pushed his leg between mine, forcing the dress to tighten around me.
He lifted his head and cradled my face with his calloused hands. My eyes closed, reveling in the gentle touch. His thumbs brushed my lips and they parted.
The drums beat louder. I exhaled. The smell of woodsmoke hovered around us. Laughter echoed through the trees. He held my head steady. I opened my eyes. Not looking away, I reached out to unbutton his coat. When the jacket opened, I wrapped my arms around him. I caressed his back. He held me tight, as if pained not to be kissing me.
The glow of the bonfire flickered in the forest behind him. He looked over my shoulder, around the tree. Then he looked back at me, the reflection of the fire in his eyes. With caramel like slowness, he gently pressed his lips to mine. Neither of us moved. He pushed his body towards mine. I couldn’t get close enough to him. I opened my mouth in invitation and he kissed me deeper. He kissed my cheek, my neck, my other cheek and back to my mouth. Every nerve in me was tight. I needed him.
His left hand reached down and pulled up my dress, scrunching until he could get under all of the fabric and touch my thigh. He lifted my leg. I rested my booted foot on the back of his calf. His large palm squeezed my bottom and he sighed. He lowered his forehead and closed his eyes. “Please, Elizabeth.”
“Yes.” I breathed. I dropped my hands from his back, frantically unclasped his belt buckle and unbuttoned his jeans.
I reached in to hold him. His penis was hot and silky soft. I closed my own eyes, rested my head back against the tree and stroked him. His left hand reached under the skirt, between my thighs. He ran his fingers along my silky folds, parting them. He slid a finger inside me and flicked his thumb over my clit. I gasped. My legs shook. His other arm circled my back.
“Here,” I begged.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He gently released me. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a condom.
My eyebrows rose.
He shrugged.
I smiled.
With care, he rolled the condom on.