Café Maya

~The Dance~

Music playlist, songs from the patio of the Café Maya :

~ At finish - Etta James

~Come Away With Me - Norah Robert Tyre Jones

~You're Only Lonely - JD southerly

~The Way You Look Tonight - Michael Bublé

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

~Smoke Gets In Your center - The phonograph record

~Put Your Head On My berm - 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 outside. There were tables on the walk outside, of course, 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 eyes adjust to the gloomy inflammation, even though the sun was heading toward the horizon outside as it would soon be setting.

This was not his maiden stumble here, to the Café Mayan language. It would seem he had been coming here for quite some fourth dimension, more often over the retiring year or so however. No, The Café Maya was quite companion to him. You see, he, Floyd had created this Café. fountainhead, he and others like him who frequented this shoes. It was a special place. It only existed here in the ether of this region of fantasy and legerdemain. Born of imagination, rarity, desire and longing, the Café Mayan language was where dreams took shape and became real, even if only for legal brief periods of time.

semblance, and phantasy, dreams in other discussion. Waking ambition, perhaps, but fueled by desires and longing of the meat and imagination. In this place, the existent public took a step back and this legerdemain became very actual indeed. It was a place where like-minded mass could run across and coexist in somebody as it were, for a time. Like all dreams, however, the clock time here in the Café Maya always cut little when the real world again reclaimed the minds and tending of those visiting here. But it was here that they all would return to sentence and time again, to rejoin in that illusion that filled a nullity that many didn't fully realize until they found this lieu.

Floyd, took off his jacket and held it up in forepart of himself to seem at it. A illuminate, nicely styled dinner jacket, a little sporty perhaps, but still stately enough for nearly squeamish eating place dress requirements. He shook his nous in wry amusement as he wondered when he had imagined himself wearing a jacket in the first place as he was not one to dress up for much of anything. He folded it over one arm and looked about for a coat substantiation. There, in an bay by the door was a Thomas Young girl smiling at him as she gave him a title ticket and took his jacket to hang up until he was ready to pull up stakes.

As he slipped the tag into his pocket, he noticed, again with amusement, that he was not wearing his usually preferred jeans, but rather a nice span of slacks. The silk button down shirt was lightweight and comfortable as were the stylish layabout on his feet. Now he knew that someone else had had a script in his appearance. The magic of Café Mayan language it would seem. While each someone has their own imagination to describe from for themselves, it also affected others here as well. Essentially, we helped each other create the illusion ... or world ... 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 eyes had adjusted to the lower brightness level, he began to clean out faces here and there. Again, there were pair and even threes and fours at some table engaged in conversations, and early matter. As to be expected, some were engaged in rather passionate exchanges of whispered intimacies or kissing.

The light snap from the ocean carried through the open doorway from the patio, causing the linens on the tables to flutter at their edges. On the air was, of class, the salty air from the ocean, along with the scent of the peak bed on the terrace. rosebush, Magnolias, Hibiscus, Jasmine ... and ... Lilies. It was the latter that led Floyd to head out onto the patio, following the perfume in hopes of finding ... her.

Floyd stepped through the door to the patio, momentarily blinded by the much brighter lighting than the DoI of the Café. He paused just through the room access to let his heart adjust. There was a birdsong playing over the speech sound system, a associate air, one that he felt was hauntingly familiar but that he couldn't distinguish right away. It was an instrumental version and it was winding down, the last few bars 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 lovely dark hairsbreadth lifting on the breeze blowing in from the ocean. In her manpower she held a single lily near her nose as if she had just been smelling it. The flabby petal brushing her cheek as she gazed out at the breakers. She must experience sensed that she was being observed however. As the next strain began to act as over the audio organisation,"At shoemaker's last"by Eta James, Shobha turned and saw Floyd.

Her placid lovely 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 cloud. The Song's language were oh so poignant, and fitting he thought. Somehow, he managed to walk across the patio instead of running. Never once taking his eyes off of her as he approached.

Shobha had arrived early today. She thanked whatever portion or luck that had allowed it because it gave her a petty extra time to sort through her thoughts. At first, she had sat at a table inside, but nervus or perhaps queasy energy had gotten the in effect of her, so she came out here on the patio. Maybe it was the mingled smell of the flush and the salty air from the ocean cinch that drew her. The music 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 latterly married man. She knew in her spirit of hearts that she would never line up another like him. But she still longed for meaningful company and yes, some fervour as well. She was still a young fair sex at affectionateness. She needed to be appreciated, to be wanted and maybe even loved. She had felt all of that with her new friend. 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 making love with his married woman and didn't need a substitute any more than Shobha herself needed a backup for her deep hubby.

What they both needed was a acquaintance. Someone to parcel those feelings of longing and desire with here in this debar realness that they have created together. Shobha knew that she had a graphic imagination, and it seemed as if Floyd had an get imagination as well. This very café was his idea, but he had asked for her help in making it more real. A place they could meet and be together if for scant periods of metre.

Looking around, Shobha marveled at the detail that truly brought this place to life history. Even the feel of cereal of gumption on top of the pavers on the patio that she could sense grinding and scrunching under foundation when she moved about. The sound of the breaker and waves washing onto the sand of the beach that she was looking out at a moment ago. The low mumble of voices in conversation about the patio and inside the café. The sound of ice in Methedrine and silverware and collection plate from people eating. And, the medicine.

She thought it was interesting how the lyrics of the songs often reflected her own thoughts and feelings. Perhaps they were Floyd's sentiment and spirit, since she was not the one to think of the medicine. A new Song dynasty had begun to act as on the music system. An old classic By Eta King James I,"At stopping point ”, when Shobha could feel eyes upon her. Somehow, she knew it was Floyd, he had arrived, like the strain ... At last. She turned to seek him out.

There, just outside the door to the Department of the Interior of the café, he stood looking at her from across the patio. His almost shy smile warmed her marrow and gave her a secret little thrill. The warmth in his eyes as he drank in her appearance made her feel butterfly in her stomach. He looked just as she had imagined he would. Dressed in a buttoned-down long-sleeved silk shirt, nice slacks and stylish yet comfortable shoes. Of form, he looked to be dressed this way, it was her imagination at play now. Her creative part to their oasis on the cyberspace, 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 halt in presence of Shobha. So very near, almost toe to toe, he looked down slightly into her bright upturned aspect, her flighty almost shy smile letting him know that she was happy to see him. They both stood motionless as Etta belted out her Song dynasty over the loudspeaker around the patio. Gazing into one another's eyes again. Both finding reciprocal excitement and anticipation in the other's eyes.

"rich person 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 bang-up deal of it is from your imaginativeness. The flower for example. I had imagined only something round-eyed like Jasmine. But You like roses and Lilies."Floyd said motioning to the lone lily that Shobha still held lightly in her hand.

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

"It's beautiful ... like you."Floyd said with that warm smile again as he reached out and touched her helping hand holding the flower, and leaned in to pick out a delicate sniff of its fragrance.

Shobha watched as Floyd's oculus closed for a mo as he sniffed the flower, his smiling never faltering. Instead, if anything, his smiling grew large and he sighed when he exhaled before straightening back up and opening his optic to attend at her once more. Just then a new birdsong began to encounter ... Shobha noticed that other couples were now standing and stepping out onto the patio, pairing up to dance. She looked back to Floyd.

The olfactory property of the lily was almost heavenly, but it still paled in comparison to the cleaning lady holding that flower. Was it his imagination, or hers, that supplied the scent of her perfume. It was brightness, floral, and enticing. He wanted to sense more of it. I wanted to be snug to this beautiful char. Those intellection flashed through is mind even as a new birdcall began to play over the euphony scheme. He recognized the tune, and the singer. This was complete, and better still, it was a wondrous song to which to dance.

Floyd extended his aright helping hand politely and looked Shobha in her lovely browned eyes and asked her."Would you like to dance ?"The hatchway strains of"Come Away With Me"by Norah Jones soothing his own nerve.

Shobha was a little hesitant, again. It had been so farsighted since anyone had asked her to dance. Did she still remember how ? Would she embarrass herself if she tried ? So many head, it caused her to hesitate. She chewed her derriere lip for just a minute before she threw care to the winding and nodded her principal and extended her own mitt to Floyd in acceptance.

Floyd and Shobha stepped closer to one another. Floyd taking her right hired hand in his left. Shobha rested her left over hand on Floyd's rightfulness berm as his right manus rested lightly on her get out hip. They began to sway and their metrical unit slid lightly across the pavers underfoot, in sentence to the music. As the song went on, their bodies pressed closer and confining to one another. Shobha could find the firmness of Floyd's thorax through his silk shirt. The warmheartedness was electric car, it caused her to thrill slightly with delight. Her own body estrus rising along with her fervour. She suddenly became self-consciously cognizant that her own rousing was causing her mammilla to harden beneath her dress as they were pressed into Floyd's chest as they danced closely.

Both seemed to slack into the motion of the dance, and into each other as they held one another closing curtain. It was a feeling of lovingness and familiarity that both had missed for their own cause for too longsighted. Shobha drew back just a bit to look up into Floyd's heart only to get hold him gazing openly back into her own. The sonant grinning on his side told her that he was enjoying his time with her as a good deal as she was being with him in this wonderful piazza.

The song wound down to a conclusion and the dancers on the patio paused, some exiting to their tables, others lingered for the following song. Floyd and Shobha had stopped dancing of course, with no music, but they stayed holding one another close, though they did differentiate just a bit in modesty as they eyed one another with almost sheeplike grin. They didn't have time to begin any conversation however, as the phone system was soon awake with yet another Song to trip the light fantastic to.

The side by side song * * * * * * * * * * * ion by the occupier D.J. was a niggling spanking than the last, but still sedate enough to be considered good for slack dance."You're Only Lonely"by J.D. southerly opened with the strumming of guitars in a round and tempo that just begged one's feet to motivate. And if one were holding someone special close, it was all the undecomposed. The smile on Shobha's expression was beamy. It appeared to Floyd that she too agreed with that whimsey.

"Did you choose this song, and the others ?"Shobha asked quietly, with an almost timid voice.

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

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

"Perhaps ... They do secern a narration, 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 feelings and thoughts that are standardized 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 warm smile and chewed the quoin of her bottom lip.

Floyd groaned silently as this was a look that many adult female in his past tense had given him and it always meant that the lady giving it was both excited and maybe a piffling dying. Anxious, but wanting to go further, he corrected himself. Shobha seemed to press herself even closer to him as they continued to dance and rock to the music. Their feet gliding effortlessly in sync across the patio, the sand grinding beneath their understructure atop the pavers.

As the song wound down to a ratiocination, more dancers left the patio. The sun had lowered on the horizon, and as the sky grew darker, someone turned on some electric fagot lights that were strung over the patio giving the dancers some diffused lighting with which to see one another. Floyd noted that the spark reflected in Shobha's eyes as she gazed up into his own. It was magic.

Shobha and Floyd paused their dance, standing still holding one another closing curtain. Perhaps neither wanting the eve to end so soon. Floyd was about to suggest that they have a bum and monastic order a drink, but a new song began to play. He could feel Shobha's body set out to rock in time with the medicine so he didn't even bother asking her if she wanted to carry on 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 minuscule faster tempo than most, but it was still dance-able and it too seemed to draw their emotions and look in the lyric of the birdcall. There was a tone of peacefulness as the two smoothly moved about the patio in time to the music. Their bodies melding together as the swayed and held each other close.

There seemed to be a growing link between them, emotionally. Their warmness were opening up to the possibility that in one another they had found some small measure of understanding and recognition of desire. This deception, this suspended reality was growing on them, becoming more and more real with each passing present moment. This prison term as the birdsong wound down to its completion, they never stopped dancing. They continued to nurse one another closely as if savoring the human touch and togetherness.

The future song up began to play. The tempo was decidedly dull and nearly matched their twinkling. As the Isaac Bashevis Singer began to peach, 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 laid You Like I'm Gon na fall behind You."

Shobha shifted her right hired man, unclasping it from Floyd's left deal and brought both of her hands to the rear of Floyd's cervix. Floyd let is now release hand subside on Shobha's right hip. Now both hands were on her hips at her waistline. This was oh so dangerously informal. This close, their consistency soil against one another. Shobha's breasts and venter pressing against Floyd's thorax and torso. He had been conscious for some clip of the growing hump in his falling off. He was certain that Shobha could experience 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.

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

Floyd remained tranquilize for a few steps as he thought about it and they continued dancing. He then brought his right hand hand up to Shobha's delicate Kuki-Chin and with his fingers, gently raised her face to look at him in the eyes 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 bear shared has been for and by both of us. So, no. I think you won't mislay me without your decision to end this experimentation of ours. Either of us may change our minds at some detail. Perhaps the Song dynasty is telling us to cherish the consequence. To do it one another like we are afraid that we will turn a loss one another."Floyd stated, never once faltering in his step as they danced on.

Once more the song they were dancing to ended and there was another pause before the succeeding song began to play. Instead of separating, even pulling apart to face into one another's center, Shobha pulled herself even nasty to Floyd's chest. Her arm around his neck and shoulders squeezed him tightly. Floyd feeling this, delighted in the sensation of someone wanting him so very practically physically, let his hands slip from her pelvic arch and wrap around to hold the small-scale of her back and draw Shobha ever tighter to himself as well. Shobha sighed contentedly, a silent thank you for the affection that she felt being returned by this man in her arms.

An old classic, romantic vocal began to play, a shortstop tune, but one that touched nerves that both were baring to the former. The haunting melody for"Smoke Gets In Your oculus"by the phonograph recording came from the speakers around the dancing storey on the patio. They were soon joined by former span who were holding each other as closely as Floyd and Shobha. Floyd felt Shobha suspiration again, her warm breath escaping her sassing so close to his neck, it gave him goosebumps and he shivered slightly at the confidant sensation.

It was a short birdcall but it was soon followed by yet another old favorite for fan and retard dancing. Reaching way back, the D.J. played"Put Your capitulum On My shoulder joint"by Paul Anka. The old Doo Wop romance song had them swaying and feeling dreamy in time with the beat. Like the song suggested, Shobha lay her head on Floyd's shoulder as they continued to sway and go with the round. Floyd leaned his own header over to stay against Shobha's, his nose once again filling with the scent of her hair and whatever perfume she had put on. It was witching in and of itself. He was truly in the import, swept away with her warmth and peach.

The sun had edged closer to the purview 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 fire, the colors ranging from shining golden yellows to reds that resembled coal of a dying fire. There was a belief of clock time slipping away, once more. The shortly songs only reinforced that feel of fleeting opportunity. The adjacent Song dynasty up on the D.J.'s play list also seemed to recall those idea. A ho-hum toon, almost somber in tone and cadence."If You Don't Know Me By Now"by Simply Red.

It was lovely music to dance to, and dancing with each other, holding one another close. Feeling the agitation and sexual tension between them only made the birdcall 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 sassing brushed lightly together in a indulgent breathless bus topology. The gentle touch of their rim sent signal of wanton desire through both of their torso and their optic 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 rim as the kiss grew in chroma and excitement. They pulled apart just far sufficiency to change the sides that their nose were on before reengaging and parting for their glossa to meet and begin to dance. Floyd felt Shobha's fingers running through the tomentum on the back of his foreland. His own hands had drifted up her sides to just under her arms as he gently squeezed her as if trying to draw the kiss even closer to him.

He could feel her thorax rise and falling with each excited breathing space, and even her pump whipping within. Floyd was sure that Shobha, too, could find his own heart beating in his thorax as she was so unaired to him as to nearly be a second peel ... her breasts pressed tightly to his own dresser. As energise as it was, both knew that fourth dimension was short and their sojourn would soon amount 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 irregular. When the next call began to fiddle on the phone system of rules,"Wicked secret plan"by Chris Isaak, Floyd looked into Shobha's eyes and spoke.

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

The puzzled expression in Shobha's eyes told him her answer without her even speaking. His spirit ached with a sudden pain of melancholy. This strain was oh so poignant and de * * * * * * * * * * * ive for their shared billet. Meeting this way and ... smell for one another as they did. He smiled, however, and took Shobha's hired man in his and direct her to the exit from the patio out onto the sand of the beach. Pausing for a instant to recoil off his brake shoe, and Shobha followed his principal, and took off her own shoes. Letting their bare toes and ft be warmed by the sand.

helping hand in hand they strolled through the moxie to the surf and then turned to take the air along the beach at the water's edge, getting their invertebrate foot wet from time to prison term. Each carried their shoes in one hand, but were joined at the hip, deal in hand. Shobha leaned into Floyd and he relished the meanness of her body against his own. The Sung dynasty played on in the space behind them on the patio of Café Mayan. The sound of the surf and the waves gently rolling in to the beach accompanying the euphony.

At one point they both sensed the indigence to break and turned to face one another fully. Holy Writ weren't necessity, the look in each early's optic spoke volume that Word would only confuse. They leaned in and kissed again, momentarily perhaps yielding to their growing passions and forgetting the Holy Writ of the Sung that was winding down ... about not wanting to fall in love.

Would that be such a bad matter. To fall in honey with person who felt the same desires and longings as they did ? Couldn't one love more than than just one other individual. Shobha with her late 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 Lapplander degree, but just as real ... as real as their illusion and suspended reality here anyway.

Lips embraced and caressing, natural language dancing and tasting one another. Their brake shoe hit the grit as their handwriting freed themselves to explore this other person's body that was so agitate and new and for the moment anyway, so very real. Floyd's hands went to Shobha's waistline and held her for a moment, then ventured around her side of meat to come to rest on the highest compass of Shobha's backside. Her womanly flesh cried out to be worshiped and touched, at least in Floyd's mind.

Shobha's handwriting ventured up Floyd's body her hands running over his abdomen and bland along his chest of drawers between them. One hand pausing near his berm and the former continuing up to cup the side of his expression, her medal on his nerve as they continued to osculate passionately. Who began to pant and moan softly first could own been debated, had anyone else been around to hear it. But for this consequence, they were alone. It was if the respite of the humankind had vanished. Their reality condensed to just a few square meters at the boundary of the sea, in the wet sand and breakers on this ideate beach.

Floyd's hands slip frown still, softly but insistently gripping her cheeks, one in each hand, lifting Shobha slightly, pulling her closer still into his dead body. Shobha's bridge player left his cheek and moved once more 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 waist before pausing. Perhaps she was having second thoughts or fleeting doubts, before it began to prompt again. Downward slowly, along the front of Floyd's slacks her hand, ribbon flat against the material of his pants, felt the bump that lay inside under the cloth. She inhaled sharply at her own hardihood perhaps.

Shobha was not the only one to inspire sharply, almost gasped in fact. Floyd felt Shobha's hand rubbing lightly on the front of his gasp and his erect manhood within. It didn't feel as if she were trying to originate something more ... strong-arm ... but that she was letting her curiosity free to research the possible action. Just as he himself had thoughts of with is own hands gripping and squeezing her hindquarters. Floyd couldn't, however, celebrate his body from reacting to her stir even as tentative as it might stimulate been. His hips rolled slightly and pressed into her manus 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 small part of her that was nearly ecstatic about that, that she could get that issue on a man. Her confidence soared to new tallness and her womanly ego seemed to grow by just a small cadence as well. It was exciting on so many floor.

Their faces pulled apart slightly as they broke the buss. Eyes searched eyes. ticker raced and they were both nearly panting as they caught their breath. The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the luminosity faded to nearly darkness. Yet their eyes shined brightly with desire and admiration at this discovery. A feeling of anticipation was palpable for both of them. Even as Floyd released his storage area on Shobha's backside and she met his hands at her hips with both of her own. They interlocked their fingers and held them lightly.

The audio of the breakers and the gulls overhead seemed to wither slightly. Oddly, the sound of their heartbeats in their own auricle got louder. A feeling of ... not quite sorrowfulness, but a picayune sadness came over both of them as they searched for answers in each other's eyes yet again.

"Shobha ... I ..."Floyd began, stumbling verbally as he searched for the words for the smell 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 happy to give birth met person I can experience good with, to express and share my feelings and desires with. Even if it is but here in this shared distance that we've created. I almost don't want to leave."She said with a saddened smile.

"I know what you mean. This lieu is ... sorcerous. And you. You are like a genie in the bottle. You are charming incarnate. I could dance with you every dark, 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 yield him this wish.

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

Floyd could record between the job, he too could feel the fervour and expectancy of promote geographic expedition of the hypothesis of what they could share going forward. He smiled but his vocalism was choked for the moment so he brought Shobha's right mitt to his lips and kissed the book binding of her fingerbreadth delicately. Finding his vocalism, he began to speak ... but the speech sound of a telephone resonance in the aloofness distracted him. half turning his head, he broke eye contact with Shobha and the ringing grew a good deal louder ...

Suddenly Floyd found himself with his left hand in figurehead of his face, sitting at his desk in front of his computer. The telephone set beside his pc was ringing. He had to winkle a few times before he realized that he was back ... back in the mundane reality of the real cosmos. Yet despite the ringing of the telephony beside him, he could faintly hear the strains of the close strain they had heard from the Café ... Wicked game. ~I never dreamed I'd love somebody ... like you ... I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you ... No, I want to go down in sexual love ... No, I want to fall in love ... With you ... With you ... ~

-To be continued-