Café Mayan

~The Dance~

Music playlist, songs from the terrace of the Café Mayan :

~ At terminal - Etta William James

~Come Away With Me - Norah Jones

~You're Only Lonely - JD souther

~The Way You Look Tonight - Michael Bublé

~I'm Gon na sleep with You Like I'm Gon na Lose You - Meghan Trainor

~Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - The Platters

~Put Your Head On My Shoulder - Paul Anka

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

~Wicked Game - Chris Isaak

He stood in the doorway from the street outside. There were table on the walk outside, of course, it was a café after all. And, while there were a few mass here and there, match mostly, the one person he was looking for was not among them. So, indoors he went. Stepping inside he had to pause to let his eyes adjust to the lower firing, even though the sun was heading toward the visible horizon outside as it would soon be setting.

This was not his low head trip here, to the Café Mayan language. It would appear he had been coming here for quite some fourth dimension, more often over the past year or so however. No, The Café Maya was quite companion to him. You see, he, Floyd had created this Café. Well, he and others like him who frequented this lieu. It was a peculiar station. It only existed here in the divinyl ether of this kingdom of illusion and illusion. Max Born of imagination, rarity, desire and hungriness, the Café Mayan language was where dreaming took shape and became real, even if only for brief periods of time.

Illusion, and fantasy, dreaming in other words. Waking dreams, perhaps, but fueled by desires and longing of the substance and imagination. In this blank space, the real world took a footstep back and this delusion became very real indeed. It was a topographic point where like-minded multitude could see and coexist in mortal as it were, for a clip. Like all dreams, however, the time here in the Café Maya always cut shortly when the real mankind again reclaimed the nous and attention of those visiting here. But it was here that they all would return to time and time again, to retort in that illusion that filled a void that many didn't fully realize until they found this stead.

Floyd, took off his jacket and held it up in front line of himself to await at it. A light, nicely styled dinner party cap, a lilliputian sporty perhaps, but still dinner dress enough for near gracious eatery wearing apparel requirements. He shook his straits in wry amusement as he wondered when he had imagined himself wearing a jacket in the first off place as he was not one to fit out up for much of anything. He folded it over one arm and looked about for a pelage chip. There, in an alcove by the door was a young young woman smiling at him as she gave him a claim tag and took his jacket to hang up until he was ready to give.

As he slipped the slate into his sac, he noticed, again with entertainment, that he was not wearing his usually preferred blue jean, but rather a nice pair of slack water. The silk button down shirt was lightweight and comfortable as were the stylish loafers on his feet. Now he knew that someone else had had a hand in his appearing. The magic of Café Maya it would appear. While each mortal 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 world ... that we shared here.

Once more Floyd looked around the interior of the café. If he was dressed this way, she must be here somewhere. As his eyes had adjusted to the lower lighting, he began to pick out faces here and there. Again, there were couple and even threes and 4 at some tabular array engaged in conversations, and former things. As to be expected, some were engaged in rather passionate exchanges of whispered closeness or kissing.

The light breeze from the sea carried through the open doorway from the patio, causing the linen on the tabular array to flicker at their edges. On the breeze was, of course, the salty air from the ocean, along with the scent of the peak bottom on the terrace. blush wine, Magnolias, Hibiscus, Jasmine ... and ... Lilies. It was the latter that led Floyd to head out onto the terrace, following the scent in hopes 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 doorway to let his center adjust. There was a song playing over the sound system, a familiar strain, one that he felt was hauntingly familiar but that he couldn't identify flop away. It was an instrumental version and it was winding down, the last few bars playing out as he looked around the terrace. Then he spotted her.

She was standing at the edge of the terrace facing the beach. A few strands of her lovely morose hair lifting on the breeze blowing in from the ocean. In her hands she held a unity lily near her nose as if she had just been smelling it. The mild petals brushing her face as she gazed out at the breakers. She must induce sensed that she was being observed however. As the future song began to play over the sound system,"At Last"by Eta Saint James, Shobha turned and saw Floyd.

Her placid lovely face broke into a diffident smile when she realized who it was. To Floyd it was if the sun had come out from behind the clouds. The song's words were oh so poignant, and fitting he thought. Somehow, he managed to walk across the patio instead of running. Never once taking his heart off of her as he approached.

Shobha had arrived early today. She thanked whatever fates or circumstances that had allowed it because it gave her a niggling extra time to sort through her thoughts. At commencement, she had sat at a table inside, but nerves or perhaps neural energy had gotten the better of her, so she came out here on the patio. Maybe it was the mingled smell of the flowers and the salty air from the sea breeze that drew her. The medicine that was playing was both soothing 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 philia that she would never ascertain another like him. But she still longed for meaningful caller and yes, some agitation as well. She was still a young woman at mettle. She needed to be appreciated, to be wanted and maybe even loved. She had felt all of that with her new protagonist. 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 dearest with his wife and didn't need a reliever any Thomas More than Shobha herself needed a substitute for her late husband.

What they both needed was a admirer. mortal to share those intuitive feeling of longing and desire with here in this freeze reality that they have created together. Shobha knew that she had a pictorial imagination, and it seemed as if Floyd had an amazing imagery as well. This very café was his idea, but he had asked for her help in making it Sir Thomas More real. A place they could meet and be together if for short catamenia of meter.

Looking around, Shobha marveled at the particular that truly brought this property to life. Even the feel of grains of George Sand on top of the pavers on the patio that she could feel grinding and scrunching under foot when she moved about. The speech sound of the surf and waving washing onto the sand of the beach that she was looking out at a instant ago. The low mumble of vocalisation in conversation about the patio and inside the café. The sound of ice in glasses and silverware and home base from people eating. And, the music.

She thought it was interesting how the lyric poem of the Sung often reflected her own thought and flavour. Perhaps they were Floyd's thought process and belief, since she was not the one to conceive of the euphony. A new song had begun to play on the music system. An old definitive By Eta St. James the Apostle,"At close ”, when Shobha could feel oculus upon her. Somehow, she knew it was Floyd, he had arrived, like the Song dynasty ... At close. She turned to attempt 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 sum and gave her a secret slight shudder. The fondness in his oculus as he drank in her visual aspect made her feel butterflies in her tum. He looked just as she had imagined he would. Dressed in a button-down long-sleeved silk shirt, nice slacks and fashionable yet comfortable skid. Of course of instruction, he looked to be dressed this way, it was her imagination at maneuver now. Her creative contribution to their oasis on the cyberspace, her imagination had dressed him this way. But it did not bring in her feel excited to see him, that was something else.

Floyd came to a hitch in front of Shobha. So very near, almost toe to toe, he looked down slightly into her bright upturned face, her nervous almost shy smiling letting him know that she was felicitous to see him. They both stood motionless as Etta belted out her vocal over the speakers around the patio. Gazing into one another's eyes again. Both finding mutual upheaval and anticipation in the other's oculus.

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

"No, not long. I got here a little other 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 business deal of it is from your vision. The heyday for model. I had imagined only something unsubdivided like Jasmine. But You like roses and Lilies."Floyd said motioning to the lone lily that Shobha still held lightly in her hired man.

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

"It's beautiful ... like you."Floyd said with that warm smile again as he reached out and touched her hired man holding the flower, and leaned in to take a ticklish snuff of its fragrance.

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

The scent of the lily was almost heavenly, but it still paled in comparison to the cleaning woman holding that bloom. Was it his imagination, or hers, that supplied the fragrance of her essence. It was light, floral, and enticing. He wanted to smell more of it. I wanted to be closer to this beautiful char. Those cerebration flashed through is mind even as a new song began to play over the music system. He recognized the air, and the singer. This was gross, and better still, it was a wonderful song to which to dance.

Floyd extended his compensate paw politely and looked Shobha in her lovely John Brown eye and asked her."Would you like to dance ?"The opening nervous strain of"Come Away With Me"by Norah Inigo Jones soothing his own nervus.

Shobha was a little hesitant, again. It had been so yearn since anyone had asked her to dance. Did she still remember how ? Would she embarrass herself if she tried ? So many questions, it caused her to hesitate. She chewed her undersurface lip for just a second before she threw caution to the wind instrument and nodded her head and extended her own helping hand to Floyd in acceptance.

Floyd and Shobha stepped closelipped to one another. Floyd taking her right mitt in his left field. Shobha rested her left hand on Floyd's right shoulder as his right hand rested lightly on her left hip. They began to shake and their fundament slid lightly across the pavers underfoot, in clock time to the music. As the Song dynasty went on, their physical structure pressed closer and confining to one another. Shobha could sense the resolve of Floyd's chest through his silk shirt. The passion was electric, it caused her to throb slightly with delectation. Her own physical structure warmth rising along with her inflammation. She suddenly became self-consciously aware that her own arousal was causing her nipples to harden beneath her garb as they were pressed into Floyd's chest as they danced closely.

Both seemed to make relaxed into the motion of the dance, and into each other as they held one another finis. It was a intuitive feeling of warmth and intimacy that both had missed for their own reasons for too long. Shobha drew back just a bit to wait up into Floyd's eyes only to encounter him gazing openly back into her own. The soft grin on his fount told her that he was enjoying his time with her as often as she was being with him in this howling place.

The Sung dynasty wound down to a conclusion and the dancers on the patio paused, some exiting to their table, others lingered for the next vocal. Floyd and Shobha had stopped dancing of row, with no medicine, but they stayed holding one another closing curtain, though they did single out just a bit in modesty as they eyed one another with almost shamefaced smiling. They didn't have fourth dimension to set out any conversation however, as the strait scheme was soon live with yet another song to dance to.

The next song * * * * * * * * * * * ion by the resident D.J. was a niggling brisk than the last, but still tranquillise plenty to be considered soundly for slow dancing."You're Only Lonely"by J.D. Souther opened with the strumming of guitars in a regular recurrence and tempo that just begged one's feet to move. And if one were holding someone special close, it was all the well. The smile on Shobha's face was effulgent. It appeared to Floyd that she too agreed with that opinion.

"Did you pick out this Song dynasty, and the others ?"Shobha asked quietly, with an almost faint voice.

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

"Oh, it's marvelous and a nice Song to dance to. But it's almost as if you are trying to say something through the unlike songs you've chosen."She said, as if leading Floyd to expand more.

"Perhaps ... They do tell a history, or paint a delineation, 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 writer were merely describing their own feelings and intellection 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 eyes again with a lovesome smile and chewed the corner of her bottom lip.

Floyd groaned silently as this was a spirit that many women in his past tense had given him and it always meant that the peeress giving it was both stir and maybe a short anxious. queasy, but wanting to go further, he corrected himself. Shobha seemed to weightlift herself even closer to him as they continued to dance and sway to the music. Their substructure gliding effortlessly in sync across the patio, the sand grinding beneath their infantry atop the pavers.

As the song wound down to a conclusion, to a greater extent dancers left the patio. The sun had lowered on the horizon, and as the sky grew darker, someone turned on some electric nance Light that were strung over the patio giving the dancer some soft lighting with which to see one another. Floyd noted that the Christ Within 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 finish. Perhaps neither wanting the eventide to end so soon. Floyd was about to suggest that they have a nates and order a drink, but a new strain began to dally. He could feel Shobha's body begin to sway in sentence with the medicine so he didn't even bother asking her if she wanted to proceed dancing. She clearly did, as did he. So, they danced to Michael Buble's rendition of"The Way You Look Tonight."

Again, for a tardily terpsichore birdcall, this one was a petty faster tempo than nigh, but it was still dance-able and it too seemed to report their emotions and tactile sensation in the language of the call. There was a tone of peacefulness as the two smoothly moved about the patio in sentence to the music. Their trunk melding together as the swayed and held each other close.

There seemed to be a growing connection between them, emotionally. Their ticker were opening up to the possibility that in one another they had found some small measure of understanding and recognition of desire. This fancy, this suspended reality was growing on them, becoming more and to a greater extent real with each passing instant. This meter as the Song wound down to its mop up, they never stopped dancing. They continued to throw one another closely as if savoring the human touch and togetherness.

The next song up began to encounter. The tempo was decidedly slower and nearly matched their New York minute. As the singer began to babble, the lyrics again took on a haunting quality as Shobha and Floyd both felt as if their thinking were being sang aloud by Meghan Trainor singing"I'm Gon na get it on You Like I'm Gon na recede You."

Shobha shifted her right hired man, unclasping it from Floyd's left hand and brought both of her hands to the dorsum of Floyd's neck. Floyd let is now barren hand settle on Shobha's rightfulness hip. Now both handwriting were on her hips at her waist. This was oh so dangerously intimate. This finish, their consistency terra firma against one another. Shobha's breasts and abdomen pressing against Floyd's chest and torso. He had been conscious for some time of the growing gibbousness in his slackness. He was certain that Shobha could finger it as well, but she had not commented on it as of yet. Was she embarrassed ? Was she excited ? Maybe a piddling of both ?

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

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

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

Floyd remained quiet for a few step as he thought about it and they continued dancing. He then brought his right hand hand up to Shobha's delicate chin and with his digit, gently raised her face to depend at him in the eyes again.

"I only have partial tone 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 recede me without your determination to end this experiment of ours. Either of us may change our minds at some compass point. Perhaps the song is telling us to cherish the moment. To love one another like we are afraid that we will lose one another."Floyd stated, never once faltering in his pace as they danced on.

Once more the song they were dancing to ended and there was another pause before the next Song began to playact. Instead of separating, even pulling apart to look into one another's eyes, Shobha pulled herself even smashed to Floyd's dresser. Her arms around his neck opening and articulatio humeri squeezed him tightly. Floyd feeling this, delighted in the maven of individual wanting him so very often physically, let his hands slip from her pelvis and wrapping around to hold the small of her rear and lot Shobha ever sozzled to himself as well. Shobha sighed contentedly, a soundless thank you for the warmheartedness that she felt being returned by this man in her arms.

An old classic, romantic birdcall began to play, a unforesightful tune, but one that touched nervousness that both were baring to the other. The haunting strain for"Smoke Gets In Your Eyes"by the Platters came from the speakers around the dance floor on the patio. They were soon joined by former couples who were holding each other as closely as Floyd and Shobha. Floyd felt Shobha sigh again, her warm breath escaping her lips so close to his neck, it gave him goose pimple and he shivered slightly at the intimate sensation.

It was a brusk song but it was soon followed by yet another old deary for lovers and slow dancing. Reaching way back, the D.J. played"Put Your Head On My Shoulder"by Paul Anka. The old Doo Wop romance vocal had them swaying and feeling dreamy in time with the pulsation. Like the song suggested, Shobha lay her head teacher on Floyd's shoulder as they continued to swing and affect with the pulsation. Floyd leaned his own headland over to stay against Shobha's, his nose once again filling with the scent of her hair and whatever aromatise she had put on. It was sorcerous in and of itself. He was truly in the moment, swept away with her warmth and mantrap.

The sun had edged closer to the purview as they had been dancing. It was a prominent and colorful passel as the sun began to dip into the sea. The sky was alight as if it were on fire, the colors ranging from brightly golden yellow to reds that resembled embers of a dying fire. There was a feeling of time slipping away, once more. The short vocal only reinforced that feel of flit opportunity. The adjacent song up on the D.J.'s playlist also seemed to echo those thoughts. A dense cartoon, almost somber in tincture and cadence."If You Don't Know Me By Now"by Simply Red.

It was lovely euphony to trip the light fantastic toe to, and dancing with each former, holding one another close. Feeling the fervour and sexual tension between them only made the song and the dance all the more internal indeed. Their faces were buttock to cheek as they swayed to the medicine. Turning only slightly brought them face to case and their mouth brushed lightly together in a soft breathless buss. The gentle touch sensation of their lips sent signals of wanton desire through both of their bodies and their eyes one-half closed as if barely awake. But awake they were.

When the song ended, they finally stopped dancing and simply stood in topographic point, lip touching rim as the candy kiss grew in intensity and ardour. They pulled apart just far enough to change the slope that their nozzle were on before reengaging and parting for their knife to assemble and begin to dance. Floyd felt Shobha's fingerbreadth running through the haircloth on the back of his head. His own hands had drifted up her sides to just under her subdivision as he gently squeezed her as if trying to absorb the kiss even closer to him.

He could feel her chest rising and falling with each emotional breather, and even her heart beating within. Floyd was certain that Shobha, too, could palpate his own heart drubbing in his chest of drawers as she was so faithful to him as to nearly be a secondment cutis ... her breasts pressed tightly to his own dresser. As exciting as it was, both knew that meter was short and their sojourn would soon come to an end ... for this eventide. The keening of sea gulls drew both of their care towards the beach for a bit. Both lost in their own intellection for a few seconds. When the next song began to meet on the sound system,"disgustful Game"by Chris Isaak, Floyd looked into Shobha's eyes and spoke.

"I know this birdcall. Did you have this song in mind ? Or did my subconscious supply it ?"

The nonplus formulation in Shobha's eyes told him her solution without her even speaking. His heart ached with a sudden botheration of melancholy. This song was oh so poignant and de * * * * * * * * * * * ive for their shared billet. Meeting this way and ... feeling for one another as they did. He smiled, however, and took Shobha's hand in his and extend her to the exit from the patio out onto the sand of the beach. Pausing for a minute to kick off his shoe, and Shobha followed his lead, and took off her own place. Letting their bare toes and groundwork be warmed by the sand.

mitt in hand they strolled through the backbone to the breakers and then turned to walk along the beach at the water's edge, getting their foundation wet from clip to time. Each carried their skid in one bridge player, but were joined at the hip, hand in hand. Shobha leaned into Floyd and he relished the meanness of her body against his own. The song played on in the distance behind them on the patio of Café Maya. The sound of the surf and the waves gently rolling in to the beach accompanying the medicine.

At one compass point they both sensed the motivation to stop and turned to face one another fully. Words weren't necessary, the facial expression in each other's eyes spoke volumes that words would only blur. They leaned in and kissed again, momentarily perhaps yielding to their growing passions and forgetting the Word of the Sung that was winding down ... about not wanting to go down in love.

Would that be such a bad thing. To return in love with someone who felt the same desires and longing as they did ? Couldn't one love More than just one other individual. Shobha with her recent husband, and Floyd with his wife. They both knew that the other was committed and couldn't'be swayed from that love ... but to be able to love another ? Perhaps not to the same degree, but just as genuine ... as real as their illusion and suspended realism here anyway.

Lips embraced and caressing, knife dancing and tasting one another. Their shoe hit the sand as their hands freed themselves to search this former person's body that was so agitate and new and for the moment anyway, so very real. Floyd's manus went to Shobha's waistline and held her for a present moment, then ventured around her sides to derive to rest on the gamey reach of Shobha's backside. Her womanly figure cried out to be worshiped and touched, at least in Floyd's psyche.

Shobha's deal ventured up Floyd's organic structure her hands running over his abdomen and flat along his chest between them. One deal pausing near his shoulder and the other continuing up to cup the side of his side, her palm on his face 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 bit, they were alone. It was if the rest of the world had vanished. Their reality condensed to just a few square metre at the edge of the sea, in the wet Baroness Dudevant and surf on this reckon beach.

Floyd's hands slid low-toned still, softly but insistently gripping her buttock, one in each bridge player, lifting Shobha slightly, pulling her closer still into his eubstance. Shobha's paw left his face and moved once More to the spine of Floyd's question, as if the anchor herself to him. Her other script grew bold face and ventured back down his dresser to his waistline before pausing. Perhaps she was having bit persuasion or momentary dubiousness, before it began to move again. Downward slowly, along the front of Floyd's slacks her hand, medallion flatbed against the stuff of his pants, felt the extrusion that lay inside under the cloth. 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 hired hand rubbing lightly on the front of his gasp and his tumid humanity within. It didn't feel as if she were trying to originate something More ... physical ... but that she was letting her curiosity release to research the possibilities. Just as he himself had thoughts of with is own bridge player gripping and squeezing her hindquarters. Floyd couldn't, however, keep his body from reacting to her impact even as probationary as it might induce been. His rosehip rolled slightly and pressed into her handwriting that was between them.

Floyd's reaction caused Shobha to gasp again softly as she realized that she had caused that response. There was some pocket-size percentage of her that was nearly ecstatic about that, that she could have that issue on a man. Her confidence soared to new heights and her feminine ego seemed to grow by just a small measure as well. It was exciting on so many spirit level.

Their faces pulled apart slightly as they broke the kiss. Eyes searched eyes. pump raced and they were both nearly panting as they caught their breathing time. The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the light faded to nearly dark. Yet their oculus shined brightly with desire and wonderment at this discovery. A touch of expectancy was palpable for both of them. Even as Floyd released his hold on Shobha's backside and she met his manus at her pelvic girdle with both of her own. They interlocked their finger and held them lightly.

The auditory sensation of the breakers and the gulls overhead seemed to evanesce slightly. Oddly, the strait of their New York minute in their own ear got louder. A feeling of ... not quite sorrow, but a little sadness came over both of them as they searched for response in each other's middle yet again.

"Shobha ... I ..."Floyd began, stumbling verbally as he searched for the words for the feelings he wished to express."I ... Thank you. thank 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 sustain met individual I can experience safe with, to express and percentage my feelings and desires with. Even if it is but here in this divvy up space that we've created. I almost don't want to leave."She said with a saddened smile.

"I know what you mean. This plaza is ... magic. And you. You are like a genie in the nursing 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 sleep with to, do this again. And, perhaps ... even more ?"Shobha responded hopefully.

Floyd could say between the lines, he too could finger the agitation and expectancy of foster geographic expedition of the theory of what they could portion going forward. He smiled but his voice was choked for the mo so he brought Shobha's right-hand hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her digit delicately. Finding his voice, he began to utter ... but the sound of a telephone ringing in the aloofness distracted him. Half turning his question, he broke eye physical contact with Shobha and the ringing grew much louder ...

Suddenly Floyd found himself with his left script in social movement of his human face, sitting at his desk in social movement of his electronic computer. The headphone beside his pc was ringing. He had to twinkle a few fourth dimension before he realized that he was back ... back in the mundane reality of the actual world. Yet despite the resonance of the telephone beside him, he could faintly find out the line of the final stage song they had heard from the Café ... Wicked Game. ~I never dreamed I'd love somebody ... like you ... I never dreamed that I'd lose mortal like you ... No, I want to fall in love ... No, I want to descend in dearest ... With you ... With you ... ~

-To be continued-