Café Maya

~The Dance~

music playlist, vocal from the patio of the Café Mayan language :

~ At endure - Etta James

~Come Away With Me - Norah Mother Jones

~You're Only Lonely - JD Souther

~The Way You Look Tonight - Michael Bublé

~I'm Gon na Love You Like I'm Gon na drop off You - Meghan Trainor

~Smoke Gets In Your center - The record

~Put Your Head On My Shoulder - Apostle Paul Anka

~If You Don't Know Me By Now - Simply Red

~Wicked Game - Chris Isaak

He stood in the room access from the street away. There were tables on the walk outside, of line, it was a café after all. And, while there were a few people here and there, couples mostly, the one soul he was looking for was not among them. So, indoors he went. Stepping inside he had to pause to let his centre adjust to the let down lighting, even though the sun was heading toward the horizon outside as it would soon be setting.

This was not his first trip here, to the Café Maya. It would seem he had been coming here for quite some time, more often over the retiring year or so however. No, The Café Maya was quite conversant to him. You see, he, Floyd had created this Café. Well, he and others like him who frequented this station. It was a peculiar lieu. It only existed here in the ether of this region of fancy and delusion. Born of imagination, curiosity, desire and longing, the Café Mayan was where dream took pattern and became real, even if only for brief stop of time.

Illusion, and fantasy, pipe dream in other Book. Waking ambition, perhaps, but fueled by desires and longing of the pith and imaginativeness. In this berth, the real man took a stone's throw back and this conjuration became very material indeed. It was a place where like-minded people could meet and coexist in individual as it were, for a metre. Like all dream, however, the time here in the Café Maya always cut short when the real humanity again reclaimed the minds and attention of those visiting here. But it was here that they all would return to time and time again, to rejoin in that conjuring trick that filled a void that many didn't fully realize until they found this place.

Floyd, took off his jacket and held it up in front of himself to front at it. A sparkle, nicely styled dinner jacket crown, a little sporty perhaps, but still formal enough for most nicer eatery dress requirements. He shook his head in wry amusement as he wondered when he had imagined himself wearing a jacket in the initiatory place as he was not one to raiment up for much of anything. He folded it over one arm and looked about for a coat curb. There, in an alcove by the room access was a young girl smiling at him as she gave him a title ticket and took his crownwork to hang up until he was ready to leave.

As he slipped the ticket into his sac, he noticed, again with amusement, that he was not wearing his usually best-loved denim, but rather a nice pair of mire. The silk button down shirt was lightweight and well-situated as were the stylish loafers on his substructure. Now he knew that someone else had had a hand in his appearance. The magic of Café Maya it would seem. While each someone has their own imagination to draw from for themselves, it also affected others here as well. Essentially, we helped each early create the illusion ... or reality ... that we shared here.

Once more Floyd looked around the inside of the café. If he was dressed this way, she must be here somewhere. As his oculus had adjusted to the lower spark, he began to pick out faces here and there. Again, there were couples and even threes and fours at some tables engaged in conversations, and other things. As to be expected, some were engaged in rather passionate exchanges of whisper affaire or kissing.

The light snap from the sea carried through the heart-to-heart doorway from the patio, causing the linen on the tables to bat at their sharpness. On the breeze was, of course, the salty air from the ocean, along with the scent of the flower beds on the patio. pink wine, Magnolias, Hibiscus, Jasmine ... and ... Lilies. It was the latter that led Floyd to head out onto the terrace, following the scent in Bob Hope of finding ... her.

Floyd stepped through the doorway to the patio, momentarily blinded by the much brighter lighting than the interior of the Café. He paused just through the door to let his oculus adjust. There was a song playing over the sound arrangement, a comrade melodic phrase, one that he felt was hauntingly companion but that he couldn't identify rectify away. It was an instrumental edition and it was winding down, the hold up few bars playing out as he looked around the patio. Then he spotted her.

She was standing at the sharpness of the terrace facing the beach. A few chain of her lovely dark tomentum lifting on the breeze blowing in from the sea. In her bridge player she held a one lily near her olfactory organ as if she had just been smelling it. The soft petals brushing her cheek as she gazed out at the surf. She must feature sensed that she was being observed however. As the next Song began to wager over the auditory sensation arrangement,"At Last"by Eta James, Shobha turned and saw Floyd.

Her placid lovely human face broke into a timid smile when she realized who it was. To Floyd it was if the sun had come out from behind the swarm. The vocal's lyrics were oh so touching, and fitting he thought. Somehow, he managed to walk across the terrace instead of running. Never once taking his centre off of her as he approached.

Shobha had arrived early today. She thanked whatever fates or destiny that had allowed it because it gave her a little spare time to sort through her thoughts. At first, she had sat at a board inside, but nerves or perhaps nervous energy had gotten the wagerer of her, so she came out here on the patio. Maybe it was the mingled scent of the blossom and the salty air from the sea breeze that drew her. The euphony that was playing was both console and ... made her think.

She had been doing a lot of thinking lately. She so very dearly missed her late husband. She knew in her heart of gist that she would never notice another like him. But she still longed for meaningful fellowship and yes, some excitement as well. She was still a young woman at heart. She needed to be appreciated, to be wanted and maybe even loved. She had felt all of that with her new ally. Somehow, he understood how she felt and what she wanted. He too seemed to be looking for something, like she was. She knew that Floyd was hopelessly in love with his wife and didn't need a replacement any more than Shobha herself needed a substitute for her late married man.

What they both needed was a friend. Someone to share those feelings of hungriness and desire with here in this freeze world that they have created together. Shobha knew that she had a vivid imagination, and it seemed as if Floyd had an vex imagination as well. This very café was his melodic theme, but he had asked for her help in making it more real number. A place they could meet and be together if for short periods of clock time.

Looking around, Shobha marveled at the detail that truly brought this space to life. Even the tactile property of grains of sand on top of the pavers on the patio that she could feel grinding and scrunching under ft when she moved about. The speech sound of the breakers and Wave washing onto the sand of the beach that she was looking out at a mo ago. The low mumble of vocalism in conversation about the patio and inside the café. The speech sound of ice in glasses and silverware and photographic plate from multitude eating. And, the music.

She thought it was interesting how the lyrics of the songs often reflected her own persuasion and feelings. Perhaps they were Floyd's thoughts and feelings, since she was not the one to think of the music. A new song had begun to wreak on the music arrangement. An old classic By Eta James,"At Last ”, when Shobha could feel eyes upon her. Somehow, she knew it was Floyd, he had arrived, like the song ... At lastly. She turned to seek him out.

There, just outside the door to the interior of the café, he stood looking at her from across the patio. His almost timid smile warmed her heart and gave her a secret picayune thrill. The warmth in his eyes as he drank in her appearance made her feel butterflies in her stomach. He looked just as she had imagined he would. Dressed in a button-down long-sleeved silk shirt, nice slacks and stylish yet comfortable place. Of course, he looked to be dressed this way, it was her vision at swordplay now. Her creative share to their haven on the internet, her mental imagery had dressed him this way. But it did not stimulate her feel excited to see him, that was something else.

Floyd came to a stoppage in nominal head of Shobha. So very near, almost toe to toe, he looked down slightly into her bright tip-tilted face, her nervous almost shy smile letting him know that she was happy to see him. They both stood motionless as Etta belted out her song over the speakers around the patio. Gazing into one another's eyes again. Both finding mutual inflammation and prevision in the other's eyes.

"Have you been waiting long ?"Floyd asked almost apologetically.

"No, not long. I got here a little early to see all this beautiful creation. It is so ... so real."Shobha almost gushed, her hands held out as if showing Floyd what she was talking about.

"It wasn't all my doing."He admitted."I think a great deal of it is from your imagination. The flower for instance. I had imagined only something simple like Jasmine. But You like rosebush and Lilies."Floyd said motioning to the lone lily that Shobha still held lightly in her deal.

"I wasn't even aware that I had imagined it."Shobha said with a smile and glanced at the lily in her hand thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's beautiful ... like you."Floyd said with that warm smile again as he reached out and touched her manus holding the flush, and leaned in to take a touchy sniff of its fragrance.

Shobha watched as Floyd's eyes closed for a moment as he sniffed the peak, his smile never faltering. Instead, if anything, his smile grew bigger and he sighed when he exhaled before straightening back up and opening his eyes to look at her once more. Just then a new song began to diddle ... Shobha noticed that former couples were now standing and stepping out onto the patio, pairing up to dance. She looked back to Floyd.

The odour of the lily was almost heavenly, but it still paled in equivalence to the woman holding that heyday. Was it his imagination, or hers, that supplied the scent of her perfume. It was light, floral, and enticing. He wanted to smell to a greater extent of it. I wanted to be nigh to this beautiful woman. Those mentation flashed through is mind even as a new vocal began to play over the music scheme. He recognized the tune, and the vocalizer. This was utter, and beneficial still, it was a wonderful song to which to trip the light fantastic toe.

Floyd extended his ripe hand politely and looked Shobha in her cover girl brown middle and asked her."Would you like to trip the light fantastic ?"The opening strains of"Come Away With Me"by Norah Jones soothing his own boldness.

Shobha was a piddling hesitant, again. It had been so hanker since anyone had asked her to dance. Did she still remember how ? Would she stymy herself if she tried ? So many questions, it caused her to waver. She chewed her bottom lip for just a moment before she threw circumspection to the wind and nodded her head and extended her own hand to Floyd in acceptance.

Floyd and Shobha stepped closelipped to one another. Floyd taking her right bridge player in his left wing. Shobha rested her left hand on Floyd's right shoulder as his right handwriting rested lightly on her left hip. They began to sway and their feet slid lightly across the pavers underfoot, in sentence to the music. As the song went on, their bodies pressed closer and snug to one another. Shobha could experience the firmness of purpose of Floyd's chest through his silk shirt. The warmth was electric, it caused her to thrill slightly with delight. Her own body heat rising along with her hullabaloo. She suddenly became self-consciously aware that her own foreplay was causing her nipple to season beneath her dress as they were pressed into Floyd's chest as they danced closely.

Both seemed to relax into the gesture of the saltation, and into each other as they held one another end. It was a feeling of heat and familiarity that both had missed for their own intellect for too retentive. Shobha drew back just a bit to look up into Floyd's heart only to recover him gazing openly back into her own. The sonant grinning on his boldness told her that he was enjoying his clock time with her as much as she was being with him in this wonderful place.

The vocal wound down to a conclusion and the terpsichorean on the patio paused, some exiting to their tables, others lingered for the next song. Floyd and Shobha had stopped dancing of form, with no music, but they stayed holding one another close, though they did separate just a bit in modesty as they eyed one another with almost shamefaced grin. They didn't have sentence to begin any conversation however, as the sound scheme was soon alive with yet another song to trip the light fantastic to.

The following birdcall * * * * * * * * * * * ion by the resident D.J. was a little alert than the hold up, but still sedate sufficiency to be considered near for slow dance."You're Only Lonely"by J.D. south wind opened with the strumming of guitars in a regular recurrence and tempo that just begged one's fundament to be active. And if one were holding someone extra close, it was all the better. The smile on Shobha's cheek was radiant. It appeared to Floyd that she too agreed with that notion.

"Did you pick out this Sung, and the others ?"Shobha asked quietly, with an almost shy voice.

"I did."Floyd admitted, then asked."Do you not like it ?"

"Oh, it's wonderful and a nice Sung dynasty to dance to. But it's almost as if you are trying to say something through the different birdcall you've chosen."She said, as if leading Floyd to elaborate more.

"Perhaps ... They do tell a level, or paint a picture, don't they ?"He asked with a smile.

"It sounds as if they are describing me, or you possibly."Shobha said thoughtfully

"Or maybe the song writers were merely describing their own tone and thoughts that are similar to our own ?"Floyd said questioningly.

"Well, whichever it may be, they fit the mood very well, do they not ?"Shobha stated and looked up into Floyd's centre again with a quick smiling and chewed the corner of her bottom lip.

Floyd groaned silently as this was a look that many women in his past had given him and it always meant that the lady giving it was both excited and maybe a little anxious. Anxious, but wanting to go further, he corrected himself. Shobha seemed to push herself even closer to him as they continued to trip the light fantastic and sway to the euphony. Their base gliding effortlessly in sync across the patio, the sand grinding beneath their feet atop the pavers.

As the song wound down to a conclusion, to a greater extent professional dancer left the patio. The sun had lowered on the view, and as the sky grew darker, someone turned on some electric faggot lights that were strung over the patio giving the dancers some easy inflammation with which to see one another. Floyd noted that the spark reflected in Shobha's middle as she gazed up into his own. It was magical.

Shobha and Floyd paused their dance, standing still holding one another close. Perhaps neither wanting the evening to end so soon. Floyd was about to paint a picture that they have a seat and Holy Order a drink, but a new song began to play. He could feel Shobha's eubstance begin to carry in time with the music so he didn't even bother asking her if she wanted to go along dancing. She clearly did, as did he. So, they danced to Michael Buble's rendition of"The Way You Look Tonight."

Again, for a tiresome dancing vocal, this one was a small faster tempo than virtually, but it was still dance-able and it too seemed to describe their emotions and notion in the words of the vocal. There was a tone of peacefulness as the two smoothly moved about the patio in time to the music. Their physical structure melding together as the swayed and held each other close.

There seemed to be a growing connection between them, emotionally. Their hearts were opening up to the possibility that in one another they had found some small measure of understanding and recognition of desire. This illusion, this debar world was growing on them, becoming more and more real with each passing moment. This time as the birdsong wound down to its culmination, they never stopped dancing. They continued to reserve one another closely as if savoring the human touch sensation and togetherness.

The following vocal up began to play. The tempo was decidedly slower and nearly matched their heartbeat. As the vocaliser began to sing, the lyrics again took on a haunting quality as Shobha and Floyd both felt as if their thoughts were being sang aloud by Meghan Trainor singing"I'm Gon na Love You Like I'm Gon na Lose You."

Shobha shifted her decent manus, unclasping it from Floyd's left hand and brought both of her helping hand to the back of Floyd's neck. Floyd let is now free hand settle on Shobha's decent hip. Now both hands were on her hips at her waist. This was oh so dangerously intimate. This close, their soundbox undercoat against one another. Shobha's breasts and abdominal cavity pressing against Floyd's chest and body. He had been witting for some time of the growing excrescence in his mire. He was certain that Shobha could feel it as well, but she had not commented on it as of yet. Was she embarrassed ? Was she excited ? Maybe a little of both ?

"Am I ? Shobha asked half way through the song.

"Are you what ?"Floyd queried in response, not understanding her question.

"Going to miss you. Like the song says."She elaborated.

Floyd remained subdued for a few steps as he thought about it and they continued dancing. He then brought his right hand up to Shobha's delicate chin and with his fingers, gently raised her boldness to look at him in the heart again.

"I only have fond say in that ... whether you and I lose one another. This has never been one sided, has it ? Everything we've talked about and have shared has been for and by both of us. So, no. I think you won't suffer me without your decision to end this experiment of ours. Either of us may change our minds at some point. Perhaps the song is telling us to cherish the moment. To love one another like we are afraid that we will misplace one another."Floyd stated, never once faltering in his dance step as they danced on.

Once more the Sung dynasty they were dancing to ended and there was another suspension before the succeeding Song began to take on. Instead of separating, even pulling apart to look into one another's optic, Shobha pulled herself even tighter to Floyd's chest. Her munition around his neck opening and shoulder squeezed him tightly. Floyd feeling this, delighted in the sensation of someone wanting him so very a lot physically, let his custody slip from her hips and wrap around to obligate the small of her spinal column and draw Shobha ever nasty to himself as well. Shobha sighed contentedly, a still thank you for the fondness that she felt being returned by this man in her weapons system.

An old classic, amatory song began to play, a dead tune, but one that touched nervus that both were baring to the early. The haunting melody for"hummer Gets In Your oculus"by the disk came from the talker around the dancing floor on the patio. They were soon joined by early couplet who were holding each other as closely as Floyd and Shobha. Floyd felt Shobha sigh again, her warmly breathing space escaping her mouth so close to his neck, it gave him pilomotor reflex and he shivered slightly at the confidant sensation.

It was a short song but it was soon followed by yet another old front-runner for lovers and decelerate dancing. Reaching way back, the D.J. played"Put Your Head On My articulatio humeri"by Paul Anka. The old Doo Wop Latinian language Sung dynasty had them swaying and feeling dreamy in meter with the beat. Like the call suggested, Shobha lay her promontory on Floyd's shoulder joint as they continued to carry and proceed with the cadence. Floyd leaned his own head over to repose against Shobha's, his nose once again filling with the scent of her tomentum and whatever perfume she had put on. It was magical in and of itself. He was truly in the moment, swept away with her affectionateness and looker.

The sun had edged closer to the visible horizon as they had been dancing. It was a spectacular and colorful sight as the sun began to dip into the sea. The sky was alight as if it were on ardor, the semblance ranging from shiny gilt yellows to reds that resembled embers of a dying ardour. There was a belief of time slipping away, once more. The shortsighted strain only reinforced that tactile sensation of momentaneous opportunity. The next call up on the D.J.'s playlist also seemed to echo those cerebration. A slower toon, almost somber in timbre and meter."If You Don't Know Me By Now"by Simply Red.

It was lovely music to trip the light fantastic toe to, and dancing with each other, holding one another stopping point. Feeling the turmoil and sexual tension between them only made the song and the dance all the more intimate indeed. Their faces were cheek to cheek as they swayed to the music. Turning only slightly brought them face to case and their rim brushed lightly together in a flaccid breathless buss. The patrician spot of their back talk sent signals of wanton desire through both of their bodies and their optic one-half closed as if barely awake. But awake they were.

When the song ended, they finally stopped dancing and simply stood in blank space, lip touching mouth as the kiss grew in intensiveness and fervidness. They pulled apart just far enough to transfer the position that their noses were on before reengaging and parting for their lingua to gather and commence to dance. Floyd felt Shobha's finger running through the pilus on the back of his head. His own work force had drifted up her slope to just under her arms as he gently squeezed her as if trying to suck the kiss even closer to him.

He could palpate her breast rising and falling with each turn on breath, and even her ticker beating within. Floyd was sure that Shobha, too, could feel his own heart beating in his bureau as she was so airless to him as to nearly be a second skin ... her breasts pressed tightly to his own chest. As charge as it was, both knew that time was short and their visit would soon come to an end ... for this even. The keening of sea patsy drew both of their aid towards the beach for a moment. Both lost in their own thought for a few seconds. When the next song began to play on the sound system,"prankish game"by Chris Isaak, Floyd looked into Shobha's eyes and spoke.

"I know this birdsong. Did you have this strain in brain ? Or did my subconscious supply it ?"

The puzzled expression in Shobha's eyes told him her solvent without her even speaking. His heart ached with a sudden pain of melancholy. This song was oh so poignant and de * * * * * * * * * * * ive for their shared situation. Meeting this way and ... spirit for one another as they did. He smiled, however, and took Shobha's hired hand in his and lead her to the exit from the patio out onto the gumption of the beach. Pausing for a consequence to sound off off his shoes, and Shobha followed his lead, and took off her own skid. Letting their bare toes and feet be warmed by the sand.

bridge player in handwriting they strolled through the Sand to the surf and then turned to take the air along the beach at the water's border, getting their feet wet from time to meter. Each carried their shoes in one hand, but were joined at the hip, hand in hand. Shobha leaned into Floyd and he relished the secretiveness of her body against his own. The vocal played on in the aloofness behind them on the patio of Café Maya. The sound of the breakers and the wafture gently rolling in to the beach accompanying the medicine.

At one head they both sensed the need to stop and turned to face one another fully. Words weren't requisite, the look in each other's eyes spoke volumes that words would only confuse. They leaned in and kissed again, momentarily perhaps yielding to their growing passionateness and forgetting the words of the song that was winding down ... about not wanting to fall in love.

Would that be such a bad thing. To come in beloved with someone who felt the same desires and longings as they did ? Couldn't one lovemaking more than just one other person. Shobha with her late husband, and Floyd with his married woman. They both knew that the other was committed and couldn't'be swayed from that erotic love ... but to be able to love another ? Perhaps not to the same level, but just as real ... as substantial as their magic and suspended realness here anyway.

Lips embraced and caressing, tongues dancing and tasting one another. Their shoe hit the sand as their hands freed themselves to explore this other person's body that was so wind up and new and for the minute anyway, so very veridical. Floyd's hands went to Shobha's waist and held her for a second, then ventured around her incline to come to catch one's breath on the high-pitched range of Shobha's backside. Her womanly image cried out to be worshiped and touched, at least in Floyd's mind.

Shobha's bridge player ventured up Floyd's body her hands running over his abdomen and flat along his chest between them. One hand pausing near his shoulder and the former continuing up to cup the side of his face, her thenar on his cheek as they continued to kiss passionately. Who began to gasp and moan softly first could have been debated, had anyone else been around to hear it. But for this moment, they were alone. It was if the rest of the reality had vanished. Their realism condensed to just a few square measure at the border of the sea, in the wet George Sand and breakers on this guess beach.

Floyd's hands slew lower still, softly but insistently gripping her cheeks, one in each handwriting, lifting Shobha slightly, pulling her finisher still into his body. Shobha's hand left his cheek and moved once to a greater extent to the back of Floyd's head, as if the linchpin herself to him. Her other hand grew bold and ventured back down his chest to his waistline before pausing. Perhaps she was having moment thoughts or fleeting doubts, before it began to locomote again. Downward slowly, along the presence of Floyd's slacks her handwriting, palm matte against the material of his bloomers, felt the extrusion that lay inside under the material. She inhaled sharply at her own boldness perhaps.

Shobha was not the only one to inhale sharply, almost gasped in fact. Floyd felt Shobha's hand rubbing lightly on the strawman of his pants and his erect manhood within. It didn't spirit as if she were trying to initiate something more ... strong-arm ... but that she was letting her curiosity detached to explore the possibilities. Just as he himself had persuasion of with is own hands gripping and squeezing her backside. Floyd couldn't, however, hold on his dead body from reacting to her adjoin even as tentative as it might hold been. His hip rolled slightly and pressed into her mitt that was between them.

Floyd's reaction caused Shobha to gasp again softly as she realized that she had caused that reaction. There was some humble voice of her that was nearly ecstatic about that, that she could sustain that effect on a man. Her assurance soared to new tiptop and her womanly ego seemed to raise by just a minuscule meter as well. It was exciting on so many levels.

Their faces pulled apart slightly as they broke the kiss. center searched eyes. warmness raced and they were both nearly panting as they caught their breath. The sun finally dipped below the celestial horizon and the ignitor faded to nearly darkness. Yet their eyes shined brightly with desire and wonderment at this discovery. A tactile sensation of anticipation was palpable for both of them. Even as Floyd released his hold on Shobha's backside and she met his workforce at her hips with both of her own. They interlocked their digit and held them lightly.

The auditory sensation of the breakers and the fool overhead seemed to wither slightly. Oddly, the sound of their split second in their own ears got louder. A feeling of ... not quite grieve, but a little lugubriousness came over both of them as they searched for answers in each other's center yet again.

"Shobha ... I ..."Floyd began, stumbling verbally as he searched for the Holy Scripture for the flavour he wished to express."I ... Thank you. give thanks you for showing me that this could even be."He finally spoke.

"It is I who should be thanking you, perhaps."Shobha nearly whispered. Before continuing."Thank you for trusting me. I feel so felicitous to have met someone I can feel safe with, to utter and share my intuitive feeling and desires with. Even if it is but here in this shared space that we've created. I almost don't want to leave."She said with a saddened smile.

"I know what you mean. This place is ... witching. And you. You are like a djinn in the bottle. You are magic incarnate. I could dance with you every Night, and I am not usually a dancer at all. I hope ... I hope we can do this again ... sometime ?"Floyd asked awkwardly, hoping against hope that Shobha would grant him this wish.

"I would love to, do this again. And, perhaps ... even more ?"Shobha responded hopefully.

Floyd could read between the pipeline, he too could find the hullabaloo and anticipation of further exploration of the possibility of what they could share going forward. He smiled but his voice was choked for the mo so he brought Shobha's compensate helping hand to his back talk and kissed the back of her finger's breadth delicately. Finding his voice, he began to talk ... but the sound of a telephone set tintinnabulation in the space distracted him. Half turning his capitulum, he broke eye liaison with Shobha and the ringing grew much louder ...

Suddenly Floyd found himself with his leftover hired hand in straw man of his case, sitting at his desk in front of his computer. The phone beside his pc was ringing. He had to flash a few times before he realized that he was back ... back in the mundane reality of the real world. Yet despite the ringing of the telephony beside him, he could faintly hear the striving of the lowest song they had heard from the Café ... Wicked plot. ~I never dreamed I'd love soul ... like you ... I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you ... No, I want to fall down in making love ... No, I want to devolve in love ... With you ... With you ... ~

-To be continued-