He moved closer, she froze, this was it, this was the make or break point. The cards were on the table, he held the aces, queens, kings and jacks. Lots of them and it was time to play them here in the rain. "Time is short," she thought; a miriad of moments flashed. The last being the moments in preparation to get here, be here, stop here, only hours prior in her own bathroom.

It was a roomy bathroom, with hardwood floor salvaged from an old barn, believe it or not. She loved the way it creeked as you stepped out of the shower. It seems the humidity from the steam would loosen or expand the board and create enough space to get that creeking sound as her right foot, damp, hit the bathmat. And it was only that spot. Simple pleasure are like that; rare, old, but refurbished and in sparing spots.

She turned with the towels draped under her right arm and the other hand holding the wall for balance. "How did the saying go? One hand for the boat, one hand for yourself." The left leg raised cleared the tub and she secured the towel around her figure.

She believed she was average or sub-average, as every woman does. And seldom is this the case with most women. Many descrived her freckled features as tomboyish, but she was nothing like that. Jogging or walking were the only competitive sports she claimed participation in, but the opposing team tended to be the triumverate of Me, Myself and I. Years of running had given her four things: elongated, elegant muscles, an incredible heart rate, very little body fat, and an occasional knee ache when it rained. Not a bad trade for a young woman. Although she did seem the thing it was a push that the low body fat worked against the breast bargaining chip. A price for health.

She looked into the mirror only to find the grey fog of steam covering her reflection. A quick wipe of the hnd towel revealed the true essence of raw woman untouched by time or pharmaseutical coverings. There she was and for the first time she saw herself as charmingly attractive without makeup. There would be no time for strolling through these thoughts as time was moving faster than she expected. Faster than we could all run.

Ina bold step of her new revelations, she only bothered with eye makeup tonight. More curiosity than anything she wanted to know if she really had the complexion that some men said, "You don't need makeup." But she would be naked without something so, eye makeup was the best as she literally pinched her cheeks to get the rosey color. A little old school blush she learned from her grandma. And again as the eyeliner, mascara and light eye shadow were finished she really believed she was meant to not wear much makeup. Well, tonight she would find out.

To the closet she turned and felt like a reindeer in Santa's army and said in a low quiet tone with a touch of sarcasm, "Now dash away, dash away, dash away all." The towel dropped to the floor exposing the smallest of pores and hairs to the cool dry air of her closet. She reached for the black dress. The slit was long and went above the knee. Both sides mirrored each other.

Before she put it on she slipped the soft black silky panties over her hips and around her girlish waist. A bra was a useless mechanism in this dress but the bodice supprted her sufficiently. "Ntot much to support she thought," but that was far from what was real. Although not big breasted, and running had lowered her body fat, she was, in fact, what a report card would call "average".

The dress slipped on over her head and down her arms and over her head. She adjusted herself to reveal less than even she wanted for her date and gently slipped heels on her size 7 feet.

And that was it other than a spray of perfume she wanted to wear only for tonight.

At that moment, with TV type timing, the doorbell rang and another clap of thunder followed quickly behind it competing for her attention. The thunder turned her head, but not her steps away from the door.

The living room was a wood panelled sanctuary for her as a child as it was the house she inherited from her grandparents. And they inherited it from their parents and so the story went until she couldn't remember if it was pre or post Civil War.

She could see through the front door that the hazy shadow was waiting. The moment seemed comical to her. Even as a child you could see salesmen, neighbors, friends, lovers through the door but never really see them. It was much like life immitating ... welll ... life. We never really know the depts and darkeness of the secrets others around us keep, but we all have them and we all blur them as much as we can.

"Hi," she let out in a short happy tone.

"Ready?" was his quick reply, and again the thunder competed for her attention. He turned his head to the left and up and noticed the sky much darker than moments before.

"Well ...," she said, "guess this means we should move along!"

And with that they took their TV edited exit to the car. And on cue as his door closed behind him, the drops started to fall. She hated it when things seemed scripted like an episode of Bewitched.

This was the slow rain of a monsoon. The kind you like to fall asleep to but not make it out of the car especially when dressed up. And here it was, beneath, between and behind. Like the old Rush song. And at that moment he whistled a the beginning to Red Barchetta. And she began to feel a little more close to this man she admired. She loved Rush and Red Barchetta was one of her favorites. He was sweet and treated her well and sang to her often. Mostly, as she was falling asleep in his arms listening to the rain on the big window panes. Two sleepy lovers. Or rather one sleepy woman.

He was charming. The kind of charming that compliments you routinely, but it always sounds like the one compliment you remember for the rest of your life. She loved his smile and hated his over-indulgence on her. Well, not hated, but was cautious of it. What bugged her was the way he women looked at him with longing dreamy eyes, but if that was the worst of it, then that was livable. No that was adorable.

The road turned and wound like a used Christmas ribbon. And there it was beyong the trees, the dinner party. Their watches said they were late, delayed by the deluge. They sat there debating the unmannerly arrival. Instead she reached for her cell phone and dialed quickly.

"Hi, Reena. Yes, it is nasty isn't it? That's why I'm calling, I don't think we can make it. It's just too much rain for us to make it on time and we don't want to barge in mid meal. Ohhhh, thanks for understanding. I'm so sorry, we'll get together next week, ok?" The trading of pleasantries and manners and he sat shocked.

"Don't look at me that way, I have plans."

The mark the verbal 2 x 4 left was not seen but felt. He had driven all that way in the rain for her to cancel. "This better be good."

"It will, you won't forget it," she said.

"Drive over there!" In the clearing behind the trees he could make out the outline of a gazebo, old at that, and a small set of concrete tables and benches.

He drove and parked and she explained on the way that this was one of her favorite spots and that the rain was a perfect romantic setting, she felt like being moody and adventurous and he'd just have to live with it for now.

Again the 2 x 4 hit him. "Ok," and with that he sold his male soul to her whim which he thought was a bit childish for someone her age, but the evening would probably end in nothing more than a conversation about feeling, greeting card cliches and a lot less sleep. But hey, her company was what he wanted and if that made her happy, then so be it.

They sat parked looking at the gazebo. He waited. She stared at it. The rain fell. She stared.

Just as quickly as she had changed her mind her door opened and she darted for the gazebo and shouted, "Come on!"

He felt like a paratrooper. The falling sky was like a midnight jump. He drew in a breath and lept. The first drop missed and then a second and then the rest hit him full on with force. He darted for the gazebo, close behind her.

She had purched on the concrete floor that made the bottom of the gazebo under a wider than usual awning shading her from the drops.

He nestled beside her and she again stared and stammered.

"You ever, ... I mean ... what I want to say ... "

And he looked at this woman and thought, "Who is this?"

"I mean," she continued, "You know, if you kiss someone in the rain you never forget them."

He was no genius, but he didn't need a bigger board to hit him between the eyes.