Café Maya

~The Dance~

Music playlist, strain from the patio of the Café Mayan language :

~ At Last - Etta James

~Come Away With Me - Norah Robert Tyre Jones

~You're Only Lonely - JD Souther

~The Way You Look Tonight - Michael Bublé

~I'm Gon na know You Like I'm Gon na recede You - Meghan Trainor

~Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - The record

~Put Your foreland On My berm - Paul Anka

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

~Wicked plot - Chris Isaak

He stood in the threshold from the street remote. There were tables on the walking outside, of form, it was a café after all. And, while there were a few people here and there, couplet 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 scummy ignition, even though the sun was heading toward the horizon outside as it would soon be setting.

This was not his first head trip here, to the Café Maya. It would seem he had been coming here for quite some time, more often over the past class or so however. No, The Café Maya was quite familiar to him. You see, he, Floyd had created this Café. wellspring, he and others like him who frequented this place. It was a special place. It only existed here in the ether of this region of fantasy and illusion. Born of imagination, wonder, desire and longing, the Café Maya was where dream took SHAPE and became real, even if only for abbreviated periods of fourth dimension.

thaumaturgy, and fantasy, dream in early words. Waking ambition, perhaps, but fueled by desires and longings of the heart and imagination. In this topographic point, the material universe took a step back and this illusion became very real indeed. It was a stead where like-minded multitude could meet and coexist in soul as it were, for a time. Like all dreams, however, the time here in the Café Maya always cut brusk when the real world again reclaimed the minds and attention of those visiting here. But it was here that they all would return to meter and time again, to rejoin in that illusion that filled a void that many didn't fully realize until they found this station.

Floyd, took off his jacket and held it up in front of himself to calculate at it. A light, nicely styled dinner jacket, a little sporty perhaps, but still formal enough for about nicer restaurants dress prerequisite. He shook his fountainhead in wry amusement as he wondered when he had imagined himself wearing a jacket in the first plaza as he was not one to crop up for much of anything. He folded it over one arm and looked about for a pelage check. There, in an bay by the door was a Cy Young little girl smiling at him as she gave him a claim ticket and took his jacket to hang up until he was ready to leave.

As he slipped the just the ticket into his sack, he noticed, again with amusement, that he was not wearing his usually favored jeans, but rather a nice pair of slacks. The silk button down shirt was whippersnapper and well-situated as were the stylish loafer on his feet. Now he knew that person else had had a hand in his appearance. The magic of Café Maya it would seem. While each person has their own imagination to draw from for themselves, it also affected others here as well. Essentially, we helped each other create the delusion ... or realism ... 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 oculus had adjusted to the lower visible light, he began to find fault out faces here and there. Again, there were couples and even 3 and IV at some board engaged in conversations, and other affair. As to be expected, some were engaged in rather passionate commutation of whispered intimacies or kissing.

The light walkover from the ocean carried through the afford doorway from the patio, causing the linens on the tables to flutter at their edge. On the picnic was, of course, the salty air from the ocean, along with the scent of the heyday bottom on the patio. rose, Magnolias, Hibiscus, Jasmine ... and ... Lilies. It was the latter that led Floyd to manoeuvre 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 door to let his oculus adjust. There was a song playing over the audio scheme, a fellow tune, one that he felt was hauntingly companion but that he couldn't identify right away. It was an subservient translation and it was winding down, the last few Browning automatic rifle playing out as he looked around the patio. Then he spotted her.

She was standing at the edge of the patio facing the beach. A few strands of her pin-up dark 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 easy petals brushing her cheek as she gazed out at the surf. She must take sensed that she was being observed however. As the future vocal began to play over the sound system,"At Last"by Eta James, Shobha turned and saw Floyd.

Her placid lovely side broke into a unsure smile when she realized who it was. To Floyd it was if the sun had come out from behind the swarm. The Sung's lyrics were oh so poignant, and fitting he thought. Somehow, he managed to walk across the patio instead of running. Never once taking his middle 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 footling supererogatory fourth dimension to sort through her opinion. At first, she had sat at a table interior, but nerves or perhaps queasy energy had gotten the dear 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 ocean piece of cake that drew her. The music that was playing was both solace and ... made her think.

She had been doing a lot of thinking lately. She so very dearly missed her deep husband. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would never notice another like him. But she still longed for meaningful society and yes, some fervour 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 beloved with his wife and didn't need a stand-in any more than Shobha herself needed a second-stringer for her late husband.

What they both needed was a friend. somebody to portion those spirit of longing and desire with here in this set aside reality that they have created together. Shobha knew that she had a vivid imagination, and it seemed as if Floyd had an amazing resourcefulness as well. This very café was his idea, but he had asked for her aid in making it more tangible. A place they could meet and be together if for short periods of time.

Looking around, Shobha marveled at the detail that truly brought this place to life. Even the flavor of texture of sand on top of the pavers on the terrace that she could feel grinding and scrunching under understructure when she moved about. The speech sound of the breakers and waves washing onto the sand of the beach that she was looking out at a moment ago. The low mumble of voice in conversation about the patio and inside the café. The sound of ice in glasses and silverware and plates from citizenry eating. And, the music.

She thought it was interesting how the lyrics of the Sung dynasty often reflected her own opinion and feelings. Perhaps they were Floyd's thought process and feelings, since she was not the one to imagine of the music. A new vocal had begun to trifle on the music organization. An old classic By Eta James,"At lowest ”, when Shobha could palpate eyes upon her. Somehow, she knew it was Floyd, he had arrived, like the song ... At live. She turned to seek him out.

There, just outside the room access to the interior of the café, he stood looking at her from across the patio. His almost diffident smile warmed her heart and gave her a orphic niggling shudder. The affectionateness in his eyes as he drank in her appearance made her feeling butterfly in her belly. He looked just as she had imagined he would. Dressed in a button-down long-sleeved silk shirt, nice slacks and stylish yet well-to-do shoes. Of course, he looked to be dressed this way, it was her imagination at drama now. Her creative contribution to their haven on the internet, her imagination had dressed him this way. But it did not make her feel excited to see him, that was something else.

Floyd came to a stop in front of Shobha. So very near, almost toe to toe, he looked down slightly into her bright upturned face, her anxious almost shy grinning 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 hullabaloo and prevision in the early'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 work force 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 imaginativeness. The flowers for case. I had imagined only something simple like Jasmine. But You like rose and Lilies."Floyd said motioning to the lone lily that Shobha still held lightly in her bridge player.

"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 fond smiling again as he reached out and touched her hand holding the heyday, and leaned in to take a delicate sniff of its fragrance.

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

The smell of the lily was almost heavenly, but it still paled in comparability to the woman holding that flush. Was it his imagery, or hers, that supplied the scent of her scent. It was light, floral, and enticing. He wanted to smell more of it. I wanted to be closer to this beautiful womanhood. Those thoughts flashed through is mind even as a new Sung dynasty began to toy over the music system. He recognized the tune, and the singer. This was hone, and well still, it was a wonderful song to which to trip the light fantastic toe.

Floyd extended his right hand politely and looked Shobha in her lovely brown eye and asked her."Would you like to dance ?"The chess opening breed of"seed Away With Me"by Norah Jones soothing his own nerves.

Shobha was a trivial hesitant, again. It had been so long since anyone had asked her to trip the light fantastic. Did she still commemorate how ? Would she embarrass herself if she tried ? So many questions, it caused her to hesitate. She chewed her bottom lip for just a instant before she threw carefulness to the wind and nodded her point and extended her own helping hand to Floyd in sufferance.

Floyd and Shobha stepped closelipped to one another. Floyd taking her right paw in his left. Shobha rested her lead hired hand on Floyd's veracious articulatio humeri as his right on hand rested lightly on her entrust hip. They began to sway and their feet slid lightly across the pavers underfoot, in fourth dimension to the music. As the song went on, their body pressed closer and closer to one another. Shobha could sense the soundness of Floyd's dresser through his silk shirt. The warmth was electric, it caused her to shiver slightly with pleasure. Her own consistence heat rising along with her agitation. 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 relax into the motion of the dance, and into each other as they held one another stopping point. It was a feel of warmth and familiarity that both had missed for their own reasons for too foresightful. Shobha drew back just a bit to look up into Floyd's oculus only to find him gazing openly back into her own. The soft smiling on his face told her that he was enjoying his time with her as lots as she was being with him in this wonderful office.

The song wound down to a conclusion and the professional dancer on the patio paused, some exiting to their tabular array, others lingered for the next birdsong. Floyd and Shobha had stopped dancing of course, with no euphony, but they stayed holding one another closing curtain, though they did separate just a bit in modesty as they eyed one another with almost sheepish smiles. They didn't have metre to begin any conversation however, as the strait scheme was soon alive with yet another song to dance to.

The following song * * * * * * * * * * * ion by the resident D.J. was a piddling livelier than the conclusion, but still calm enough to be considered thoroughly for deadening dancing."You're Only Lonely"by J.D. southerly opened with the strumming of guitars in a rhythm and tempo that just begged one's foot to affect. And if one were holding someone special close, it was all the better. The smile on Shobha's face was radiant. It appeared to Floyd that she too agreed with that notion.

"Did you choose this song, 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 Song dynasty to trip the light fantastic toe to. But it's almost as if you are trying to say something through the different songs you've chosen."She said, as if leading Floyd to elaborate more.

"Perhaps ... They do order a story, 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 writer were merely describing their own flavour and idea 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 fond grinning and chewed the nook of her rear end lip.

Floyd groaned silently as this was a tone that many women in his past had given him and it always meant that the lady giving it was both excited and maybe a trivial anxious. dying, but wanting to go further, he corrected himself. Shobha seemed to press herself even closer to him as they continued to dance and sway to the music. Their invertebrate foot gliding effortlessly in sync across the patio, the sand grinding beneath their groundwork atop the pavers.

As the Sung dynasty wound down to a determination, more dancers left the patio. The sun had lowered on the skyline, and as the sky grew darker, someone turned on some electrical fairy lights that were strung over the patio giving the dancers some flaccid ignition with which to see one another. Floyd noted that the light reflected in Shobha's eyes 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 indicate that they have a derriere and order a drink, but a new song began to play. He could feel Shobha's body begin to sway in time with the euphony 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 slow dancing song, this one was a lilliputian faster tempo than most, but it was still dance-able and it too seemed to describe their emotions and flavor in the lyrics of the song. There was a intuitive feeling of peaceableness as the two smoothly moved about the terrace in time to the medicine. Their soundbox 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 hypothesis that in one another they had found some small measure of apprehension and acknowledgment of desire. This illusion, this suspended realness was growing on them, becoming more and Sir Thomas More existent with each passing moment. This time as the song wound down to its completion, they never stopped dancing. They continued to oblige one another closely as if savoring the human soupcon and togetherness.

The next Sung dynasty up began to play. The tempo was decidedly slower and nearly matched their pulse. As the singer began to sing, the lyric again took on a haunting quality as Shobha and Floyd both felt as if their mentation were being sang aloud by Meghan Trainor singing"I'm Gon na Love You Like I'm Gon na Lose You."

Shobha shifted her correct paw, unclasping it from Floyd's left deal and brought both of her hired man to the back of Floyd's neck. Floyd let is now free hired hand settle on Shobha's right-hand hip. Now both handwriting were on her coxa at her waist. This was oh so dangerously internal. This close, their bodies primer against one another. Shobha's white meat and abdomen pressing against Floyd's bureau and torso. He had been witting for some time of the growing bulge in his quagmire. He was sealed 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 little of both ?

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

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

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

Floyd remained placidity for a few steps as he thought about it and they continued dancing. He then brought his right handwriting up to Shobha's delicate chin and with his fingers, gently raised her face to attend at him in the eyes again.

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

Once more the Sung they were dancing to ended and there was another interruption before the next call began to play. Instead of separating, even pulling apart to depend into one another's eyes, Shobha pulled herself even tighter to Floyd's dresser. Her subdivision around his neck and shoulder joint squeezed him tightly. Floyd feeling this, delighted in the sentience of someone wanting him so very a good deal physically, let his hands slip from her pelvic arch and wrapping around to oblige the small of her backrest and attractor Shobha ever sloshed to himself as well. Shobha sighed contentedly, a silent thank you for the heart that she felt being returned by this man in her arms.

An old classic, romantic call began to dally, a shortsighted tune, but one that touched nerves that both were baring to the other. The haunting melody for"pot Gets In Your Eyes"by the platter came from the loudspeaker system around the dance floor on the patio. They were soon joined by other couples who were holding each other as closely as Floyd and Shobha. Floyd felt Shobha suspiration again, her warm breath escaping her lips so close to his neck, it gave him horripilation and he shivered slightly at the confidant sensation.

It was a short circuit song but it was soon followed by yet another old front-runner for lovers and slow up dancing. Reaching way back, the D.J. played"Put Your caput On My shoulder"by Paul Anka. The old Doo Wop romance Song had them swaying and feeling dreamy in time with the pulse. Like the song suggested, Shobha lay her principal on Floyd's shoulder as they continued to sway and move with the beat. Floyd leaned his own headland over to repose against Shobha's, his nose once again filling with the perfume of her hair and whatever perfume she had put on. It was witching in and of itself. He was truly in the moment, swept away with her passion and beauty.

The sun had edged closer to the horizon as they had been dancing. It was a spectacular and coloured mess as the sun began to dip into the sea. The sky was alight as if it were on flak, the colors ranging from lustrous golden yellows to reds that resembled embers of a dying fire. There was a feeling of metre slipping away, once more. The short call only reinforced that feeling of fleeting opportunity. The next song up on the D.J.'s playlist also seemed to reverberate those thoughts. A slower cartoon, almost somber in tone of voice and cadence."If You Don't Know Me By Now"by Simply Red.

It was lovely music to dance to, and dancing with each former, holding one another close. Feeling the excitement and intimate tension between them only made the song and the dancing all the more inner indeed. Their faces were nerve to cheek as they swayed to the euphony. Turning only slightly brought them face to face and their lips brushed lightly together in a soft breathless buss. The aristocratical spot of their sassing sent signals of wanton desire through both of their bodies and their eyes half closed as if barely awake. But awake they were.

When the song ended, they finally stopped dancing and simply stood in place, lip touching lips as the kiss grew in intensity and inflammation. They pulled apart just far enough to shift the slope that their nozzle were on before reengaging and parting for their spit to fulfill and begin to dance. Floyd felt Shobha's fingerbreadth running through the hair on the back of his head. His own workforce had drifted up her sides to just under her blazon as he gently squeezed her as if trying to quarter the kiss even closer to him.

He could feel her pectus ascent and falling with each commove breathing place, and even her heart beating within. Floyd was sure that Shobha, too, could feel his own heart beating in his chest as she was so faithful to him as to nearly be a second pelt ... her knocker pressed tightly to his own chest of drawers. As energise as it was, both knew that clock time was short and their visit would soon total to an end ... for this evening. The keening of sea gulls drew both of their attention towards the beach for a moment. Both lost in their own thoughts for a few seconds. When the next song began to make for on the sound system,"Wicked secret plan"by Chris Isaak, Floyd looked into Shobha's centre and spoke.

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

The puzzled expression in Shobha's oculus told him her reply without her even speaking. His affection ached with a sudden painfulness of black bile. This Sung was oh so poignant and de * * * * * * * * * * * ive for their shared situation. Meeting this way and ... intuitive feeling for one another as they did. He smiled, however, and took Shobha's hand in his and lead her to the outlet from the terrace out onto the sand of the beach. Pausing for a instant to kick off his shoes, and Shobha followed his tether, and took off her own shoes. Letting their bare toes and feet be warmed by the sand.

paw in paw they strolled through the Sand to the breakers and then turned to walk along the beach at the water supply's border, getting their feet wet from sentence to time. Each carried their shoes in one paw, but were joined at the hip, hand in hand. Shobha leaned into Floyd and he relished the closeness of her consistence against his own. The song played on in the length behind them on the patio of Café Mayan. The speech sound of the surf and the undulation gently rolling in to the beach accompanying the medicine.

At one point they both sensed the need to stop and turned to face up one another fully. watchword weren't necessary, the look in each other's oculus spoke volumes that parole would only confuse. They leaned in and kissed again, momentarily perhaps yielding to their growing passions and forgetting the row of the song that was winding down ... about not wanting to fall down in love.

Would that be such a bad affair. To pass in dearest with someone who felt the same desires and longings as they did ? Couldn't one passion more than just one other person. Shobha with her former husband, and Floyd with his married woman. They both knew that the former was committed and couldn't'be swayed from that love ... but to be able to love another ? Perhaps not to the Saami degree, but just as really ... as real as their deception and suspended reality here anyway.

sass embraced and caressing, tongues dancing and tasting one another. Their shoes hit the sand as their bridge player freed themselves to explore this other person's body that was so exciting and new and for the minute anyway, so very rattling. Floyd's custody went to Shobha's shank and held her for a bit, then ventured around her sides to come to stay on the highest reaches of Shobha's backside. Her womanly figure cried out to be worshiped and touched, at least in Floyd's brain.

Shobha's handwriting ventured up Floyd's body her paw running over his abdomen and monotonic along his chest between them. One script pausing near his shoulder joint and the other continuing up to cup the side of his face, her palm on his face as they continued to buss passionately. Who began to gasp and moan softly first could have been debated, had anyone else been around to hear it. But for this minute, they were alone. It was if the rest of the world had vanished. Their reality condensed to just a few square m at the border of the sea, in the wet Sand and surf on this imagined beach.

Floyd's handwriting slid glower still, softly but insistently gripping her cheek, one in each bridge player, lifting Shobha slightly, pulling her closer still into his consistency. Shobha's hand left his boldness and moved once to a greater extent to the back of Floyd's head, as if the keystone herself to him. Her other bridge player grew boldface and ventured back down his chest to his waist before pausing. Perhaps she was having back sentiment or fugitive doubts, before it began to move again. Downward slowly, along the front of Floyd's slacks her script, thenar flat against the cloth of his pants, felt the bulge that lay inside under the textile. She inhaled sharply at her own cheek perhaps.

Shobha was not the only one to breathe in sharply, almost gasped in fact. Floyd felt Shobha's manus rubbing lightly on the front of his pants and his upright manhood within. It didn't feeling as if she were trying to originate something more ... physical ... but that she was letting her curiosity barren to research the possibilities. Just as he himself had thoughts of with is own workforce gripping and squeezing her ass. Floyd couldn't, however, observe his soundbox from reacting to her spot even as provisional as it might have got been. His pelvis rolled slightly and pressed into her hand that was between them.

Floyd's reaction caused Shobha to pant again softly as she realized that she had caused that reaction. There was some low role of her that was nearly rhapsodic about that, that she could have that upshot on a man. Her confidence soared to new heights and her womanly ego seemed to originate by just a small amount as well. It was exciting on so many story.

Their faces pulled apart slightly as they broke the kiss. Eyes searched centre. Hearts raced and they were both nearly trousering as they caught their breath. The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the igniter faded to nearly darkness. Yet their eyes shined brightly with desire and curiosity at this discovery. A tone of prevision was palpable for both of them. Even as Floyd released his storage area on Shobha's backside and she met his men at her pelvic arch with both of her own. They interlocked their fingers and held them lightly.

The audio of the breakers and the mark overhead seemed to fade slightly. Oddly, the strait of their heartbeats in their own capitulum got louder. A tactual sensation of ... not quite sorrowfulness, but a slight gloominess came over both of them as they searched for solvent in each other's center yet again.

"Shobha ... I ..."Floyd began, stumbling verbally as he searched for the Holy Scripture for the flavor 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 well-chosen to have met person I can feel safe with, to verbalize and share my tactile sensation 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 shoes is ... wizardly. And you. You are like a genie 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 concede him this wish.

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

Floyd could read between the line of merchandise, he too could feel the excitement and prevision of encourage geographic expedition of the possibilities of what they could share going forward. He smiled but his vox was choked for the moment so he brought Shobha's ripe hired hand to his backtalk and kissed the back of her fingers delicately. Finding his voice, he began to utter ... but the sound of a telephone ring in the distance distracted him. Half turning his heading, he broke eye middleman with Shobha and the ringing grew a good deal louder ...

Suddenly Floyd found himself with his left deal in front end of his fount, sitting at his desk in front line of his computer. The telephone beside his pc was ringing. He had to blink away a few fourth dimension before he realized that he was back ... back in the mundane reality of the real world. Yet despite the sonorousness of the telephone beside him, he could faintly hear the song of the last song they had heard from the Café ... Wicked secret plan. ~I never dreamed I'd love individual ... like you ... I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you ... No, I want to fall in honey ... No, I want to come down in love ... With you ... With you ... ~

-To be continued-