Flesh and Feathers by Danielle Hylton, April Fifer Page A

I felt an urgent pull to follow it down.
    The light turned, and I tugged on Gage’s arm. “Gage, wait, let’s go this way.”
    “There’s nothing down there,” he replied.
    “No really–I think there is a place down there we can get a drink,” I said, but he didn’t seem convinced.
    “Please–for me?” Great, now I’ve resorted to begging.
    He smiled and let me lead. I walked cautiously, not wanting to miss whatever it was that I was looking for, although I was still unclear what that was.
    “I think this is it.” I pointed to a door tucked away from the city streets. I led him down the four steps to the entryway and went inside.
    It was a small lounge, and the walls were lined with tables that were covered in white linens. Only a few couples were there dinning. The center of the room was laid out with a small hardwood floor, which was set up for intimate dancing–and in the corner a band was playing.  
    “Yes, I’ve been here before,” I said quietly to myself, trying to confirm something I wasn’t sure of.
    Gage turned and grinned. “I think I might like this place.” I was too preoccupied to acknowledge any innuendos.
    We were seated at a far back table, and Gage ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon . I was feeling tense, so I was glad he ordered wine. I needed to unwind.
    After sucking down my first three glasses, I asked the waiter to leave the bottle, causing him to give me that “do I need to call your AA sponsor” look. But he left it anyway. Who was he to judge?
    I kept examining the room over and over until I noticed Gage beginning to look annoyed.
      “Would you like to dance?” Gage asked me, holding out his hand.
    It came out somewhat slurred, and I am pretty sure I spit on him when I answered. “Pppplease, I’m a terrible dancer.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand…. Yes, I am now sure that I spit on him.
    Gage, not giving up, grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my seat. “Come on, you’re dancing. Besides all you have to do is move back and forth.”
    On the floor, he held me close, putting one of his hands on my back and using his other to hold my hand adjacent to his shoulder. I laid my head on his chest and breathed in the sweet smell of his cologne, mostly because I couldn’t hold my head much longer. This felt so placated.
    My eyes were closed, and we softly swayed to the sound of the music. Everything was spinning, but in a good way–the way you feel when you’re a kid on tire swing, twisting it up and then letting go… and just spinning.
    “Az?”
    “Umm hum.”
    “I was thinking we could do this more often,” he said.
    “Do what? Dancing?” I responded, my head still on his chest listening to the vibrating sound it made when he spoke.
    A gruff laugh rattled his chest and then settled again. “All of it.”
    I looked up at him, not wanting to discuss any future plans, and so I quickly changed the subject. “You have really pretty eyes.”
    He looked down at me. “I’m serious,” he said, using a low voice.
    I was about to reply, when a song began playing and threw me off track. It was slow and seductive. He pulled me closer, and I took a deep breath. It was getting really hot, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the wine or being this close to Gage. I enjoyed him holding me, and it felt even better holding him in return.
    He leaned down humming the words of the song softly in my ear. My eyes rolled for a second in the pleasure of listening to his voice, but then I readjusted my gaze over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a man standing at the bar. He was wearing a black tuxedo, and his dusty blonde hair was perfectly combed back. His persona and attire caused me to stare harder, wanting to see his face. He stood over six feet tall and casually rested a hand in his pants pocket.  
    Gage kept moving, still leaning next to my ear–oblivious to my trance I was now stuck in.
    I squinted, trying to focus on the man at the bar. He picked up