This is my entry into The Tsuruoka Files Mid-Week Blues-Buster Challenge – Week 21
Crackles and Pops
He pointed her to the chair near the window and walked to the other end of the room. She saw a stack of vinyl albums in their dust covers sitting next to an old record player. It looked older than her, and well-loved. She wondered how many beautiful women he’d brought back to his bachelor pad to play one of these masterpieces, bringing them to life with something as simple as a needle sliding through a groove. She had never owned one, personally, but she remembered sitting with her grandmother and listening to Lawrence Welk. The bubbly, upbeat orchestra music always made her want to dance along. Right now, though, she was not with her grandmother. And she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be playing any Lawrence Welk.
He picked an album from its dust sleeve and held it in his hands a second or two, blowing off the fuzz before he placed it gently on the turntable. She could see what great care he took in his treatment of his albums. He flipped the player on and slowly lifted the needle. She saw him, hesitant in the placement of it; she’d never seen someone so burly act so softly, so gently. She hoped he would be half as gentle with her once his hands were on her body.
Her breath sped up slightly remembering their walk to his place. His hands were large, and a little rough; he said it was from his job in construction. They had been all over her during the walk: on her waist, her shoulder, her arms and her ass. Occasionally, she could feel the calluses scratch as they rubbed against her bare skin.
She heard the needle make contact. The room filled with the crackles and pops she remembered her grandmother telling her was a sign of a well-loved album. It meant that the owner had listened to it enough times for it to have become worn. Closing her eyes, she felt the music in her body. It was a soulful blues tune. She didn’t know the musician, but it didn’t matter; the song was already part of her.
Before she knew what was happening, she felt a hand touch her chin and lift her face upward. He stood in front of her with her face in his hand. He was smiling. “Dance with me.” He backed up and reached out to her. She placed her delicate hand in his as he lifted her from the chair, drawing her to the middle of the room. They began moving gracefully to the music piping through the speakers. His eyes never left her face while they danced. It made her want him even more. He slowed down, almost stopping completely as he asked her, “Do you like this? This music, I mean…well, maybe the dancing, too?”
“I love it all. Thank you for inviting me.” She placed her hands on his chest, slowly stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. He moved to face her and their lips brushed.
For him, the night had obviously been leading to this moment: the dinner, the drinks, the semi-romantic walk back to his place for some music and talk. It was just a matter of him feeling that the final moment was right… and he was feeling it.
In one felled swoop, he brought her body closer to his and kissed her.
The static between their bodies buzzed. He could feel her heart pounding as he kissed her like he’d never kissed anyone before: with passion, with depth. “I want you.”
She looked in his eyes and nodded. Before she could say anything, he lifted her off the floor and swept her into his arms. As the two moved toward his room, she could hear the music fade, until all that was left were the crackles and pops.