Episode 3
832 Words
Her eyes flew wide, and her breath suspended, as she realized without a doubt that the fantasy was real, that the man who inhabited her dreams and notions now stood before her. And blast it if his incredible masculine beauty did not embody and surpass her recollection. Dressed this evening in a sleek mahogany silk suit with a white satin shirt underneath, the man’s bronzed, sculpted face and sleek mane of midnight black hair shone brilliantly in the dramatic glow of the club’s low lights. The crowd cleared around him as Mr. Ambrose strolled forth with a certain confidence; squaring his broad shoulders as the pool of partygoers, once all too eager to court the lovely Cecily (“And I use the word court very loosely,” Kat mused with a smirk) now dispersed—with the lone exception of a single young man who, with his snide smile, five o’clock shadow and blindingly red coat, seemed stuck eternal in the era of the 1980s.
“Can’t say that I blame ya, Mr. Ambrose,” the young man spoke, tone low and reverent as he made a broad gesture in the direction of the grinning, blushing Cecily. “She’s a beauty.” Ambrose nodded. “She is indeed,” he verified politely, adding as he shifted his gaze straight in Kat’s direction, “I, however, am here for her.” Grinning broadly at this news, Katherine took the man’s outstretched hand and accompanied him to the dance floor. The surrounding crowd parting like a group of lemmings as they watched the couple with curious eyes. “Am I ever glad to see you,” she told her companion, beaming brightly in his direction as the two stopped stock still and faced one another in the brilliant gleam of surrounding strobe lights. She took in her breath as her stunning companion swept her up in two muscled arms. Snapping his fingers as a waiting disc jockey, a bored looking college gent, previously languishing idly at the corner of the dance floor, sprang into action. “Play us something romantic Joshua,” Ambrose ordered in a genial tone, all the while never taking his gaze from the woman in his arms.
Suddenly the air above them brimmed with the sound of a scintillating jazz beat, one followed by the exotic pounding of drums and bongos. The powerful surge of a melodic jazz guitar soon resounded forth into the fray, driving an entranced Kat deeper into the arms of her waiting and most charming partner. Sweeping his lady up into a tight but ever gentle embrace, Ambrose swayed and swung her across the floor. Their bodies seeming to merge as a single radiant unit as their feet fell easily into the motion. Suddenly he pulled her body flush up against his and leaned her backward in a thrilling, invigorating dip, staring deep into her eyes as he released on a whisper, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Katherine. I’ve just been biding my time until the weekend, when I dearly hoped that you would come back here.” Kat nodded. “Well I have to say that, just a time or two, you’ve crossed my mind as well. More than a time or two, you annoyingly attractive man you.
And I really looked forward to seeing you again, um, Mr. Ambrose,” she deadpanned, adding through gritted teeth, “OK then, Dude, you have to tell me your real name. It royally creeps me out to refer to a date as Mr. So and So. I’m not a 50 Shades gal, know what I’m sayin’?” Ambrose threw his bronzed head back, letting loose with a sonorous laugh as he considered these lightly spoken words. “Quite the contrary, Miss, I do believe that I would be the submissive in this case,” he teased her, adding with a stately bow, “And if you so wish to know the first name of your personal servant, then I of course shall hasten to supply it. My full name, my dear Kat, is Xavier Ambrose.” Surging upward with her in his arms, he twirled her hand high above her head before returning her, slow and easy, to the cradle of his embrace.
“I hope that you will join me this evening at my private table here at Club Groove,” he whispered, staring deep into her eyes. “It’s called the Champagne Table.” Kat grinned. “Well as long as that particular table lives up to its name, and I can indeed find lots and lots of that sparkly beverage somewhere in its vicinity,” she told him. “That sounds more than all right with me.” Xavier nodded. “I’ll order a bottle of my finest bubbly and have it delivered to the table, post haste,” he declared, adding more halfheartedly, “Your friend, of course, is more than welcome to sit with us.”
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