The two days sped by, leaving Guin in a not unfamiliar foreign language haze.  I no speak English, I govoru Russlish, she thought to herself with a laugh as she slid on the dress she had bought the day before.  But the meeting went well, and it looks like we’re on our way to cutting a deal to get some Russian imports to sell, so I guess I have reason to celebrate.  She smoothed her hands over the forest green velvet of the dress, which stopped just above the knee.  It really is barely there, isn’t it?  Guin thought, zipping up the back and adjusting the thin shoulder straps.  Doesn’t let me wear much under it, either.  I suppose I should wear hose, but...ick, I hate pantyhose.  Besides, we’re just staying in, right?  She looked at herself in the mirror.  "Stop looking at me like that," she told her reflection, "I know what I’m doing."  She pulled on her lacy black underwear and smoothed the skirt back over it.  Yep, I know exactly what I’m doing.  I’m offering myself up to him.  She closed her eyes.  I know I haven’t known him for that long, but it feels so right...oh please, God, let this be right.  For the fifth time she checked for the small packets she had put in her purse.  Better safe than sorry, at least.  She twisted her hair up and fixed it in place with two shiny black rods.  Hmm, schoolteacher look.  Well, at least something about me will look prim and proper.   Guin slid on her black high heels, grabbed her wrap off the back of her sewing chair and headed for the door before she could change her mind.

The trip to Andrew’s was altogether too short.  Guin pulled the black wrap tightly around her as she got out of the car, attributing her action to the chill in the air.  She walked briskly up to the house and rang the doorbell.  The door opened almost immediately.  He must’ve been waiting for me, she mused, watching Andrew’s eyes widen as his gaze traveled up her form to meet her eyes.

"Come in," he offered, standing aside for her to enter.

Guin glanced about nervously as she walked in.  "And John is...."

"Spending the night at a friend’s house.  May I?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders.  Guin gently shrugged out of the wrap, which Andrew hung on the coat rack.  He took one of her fidgeting hands in his.  "So how did it go?"

"Hmm?"

"The meeting.  How did it go?"  He smiled at her, warm and reassuring.

"Oh, that.  Great, actually.  I think we’re going to get ourselves a contract.  So it looks like I’m going to get to un-rust my Russian."

"That is cause for a celebration, then," he declared, moving toward the kitchen.  "You go into the den, I’ll be there in a minute."  Andrew held onto her hand until they parted ways.  Guin rolled her eyes as she headed down the hallway and smiled.  Well, caught his interest, anyway, she thought, reflecting on the way his eyes had lit upon her figure.

The den was dimly lit, with a fire brightly crackling in between the red brick sides of the fireplace.  Guin set her purse on one of the wingback chairs as she recognized the tune that was softly playing on the stereo.  The music seeped into her; she gave in to the sensation, swaying to the gentle notes and moving her hands with the melody, then began to sing -- totally oblivious to the fact that Andrew was now standing in the doorway, bottle of champagne in hand, watching her.

"So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
 There’s vultures and thieves at your back
 The storm keeps on twisting, keep on building the lies
 That you make up for all that you lack
 It don’t make no difference, escaping one last time
 It’s easier to believe
 In this sweet madness, this glorious sadness
 That brings me to my knees.
 In the arms of the angel, fly away from here,
 From this dark, cold hotel room
 and the endlessness that you fear
 You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
 You’re in the arms of the angel
 may you find some comfort here."

Andrew closed his eyes for a long moment.  Little does she know she could be describing me.  Or maybe she does know, somehow.  He focused back on her as she repeated the chorus along with the radio.  As the song ended, Andrew cleared his throat gently and walked in, putting the champagne on the bar next to the fireplace.  Guin blushed furiously, now self-conscious not only of her dress, but of her behavior as well.  "I...I didn’t know you’d come in," she stammered.

"You sing beautifully," he commented, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he popped the cork and poured two glasses.

"I’m okay," she shrugged, taking the flute Andrew offered her.  "I like to sing.  I used to be in choir, in school.  Something else I haven’t done in a long time."

Andrew raised his glass.  "To beautiful music, and the beautiful women who often sing it."  Guin turned a deeper shade of red.  "And to potential new contracts for marketing maven Guinevere Barnes."  He smiled playfully.

"Will you get over my name already?" she laughed.  "Cheers."  Guin took a sip, a pleasant shiver running down her spine as Andrew eyed her appreciatively.  If most men could do with their bodies what he does with his eyes...  She was afraid to even finish the thought.

Andrew switched on the CD player, and the strains of slow blues filled the room.  He took the champagne flute from her and placed the pair of glassware on the mantle, then held out his hand to her.  "Would you like to dance?"

"How could I refuse?"  Guin took his hand and let him draw her into his arms, resting her cheek against Andrew’s shoulder.  She closed her eyes as they slowly swayed to the music, losing herself in the mellowness of the music and the warmth of their embrace.  Several songs passed before she softly remarked, "This is nice."

"Mmm hmm," Andrew responded.  Guin didn’t have to look up to see the contentment on his face.  I could settle for this, Guin thought comfortably.

Guin felt Andrew raise his cheek from where it had settled against the top of her head, but she didn’t have to wait long to find out why.  Still clasping her right hand, he raised it to his lips, kissing her fingers, then her palm, then the inside of her wrist.  She shivered as he stretched out her arm and trailed kisses down it to the inside of her elbow, then up to her shoulder and neck, finally pausing at her cheek.  He stopped there a moment, his warm breath tickling her ear.  She swallowed hard.  Andrew faced her again, touching his forehead to hers.  "That was nice," she said shakily.

Andrew’s lips curled into a smile.  "Was it?"  He bent his head and kissed the crook between her neck and jawline.

"Oh yes, quite," she answered, putting her hands against his cheeks and drawing his face to hers, kissing him hungrily.  He pulled back, putting one finger to her lips.  Surprised, she looked up at him.

"Are you sure?"  His eyes filled in the unspoken questions.

"More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time," she whispered back.  "But there is one thing...I’d like...well, we should..."  Guin shook her head and laughed at herself.  "I’m such a wuss.  What I’m trying to talk about is...protection."

"Oh."  It wasn’t something Andrew had thought about.  Of course, since she doesn’t know that I can’t pass anything on to her, she’s going to want...damn.  Why didn’t I think of that?

"I’ve got some, I just...well..." Guin returned to her former shade of red.

"It’s okay."  He smiled at her, pulling her toward him again.  She looked up, and he nodded reassuringly.  "Whatever you want."  Guin breathed a sigh of relief.

Andrew plucked the rods from her hair, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulders.  Leaving the sticks on the mantle, he ran his hands through her brown tresses.  Guin closed her eyes and leaned her head back into the motion, and Andrew set his lips to hers in a deep, lingering kiss.  He pressed her body into his, his hands running along her curves, then up her back to find the zipper of her dress and pull it down slowly.

Guin unbuttoned his shirt down to his belt, which she worked loose.  She pulled the shirt from his back and tossed it aside.  Andrew slid one strap off her shoulder, then the other; Guin shrugged, and the dress slithered to the floor.  She kicked it aside, along with her shoes.  Andrew ran his hands over her body lightly, finally sliding them along her hips and removing the last vestiges of her clothing; Guin did the same to him.  He took her trembling hands and slowly lowered her to the pillows on the floor.  As Andrew knelt beside her, Guin reached for her purse.  "Business before pleasure," she reminded him, tearing open one of the packets.

Andrew gave her an impish grin.  "You have to do it."  Taking a deep, nervous breath, she reached over and secured the condom into place.  Laying her back, he slid over her, covering her mouth with his.  Guin savored his kiss as he set their rhythm, gently rocking with the music still softly playing in the background.

"It’s been so long," she whispered breathlessly between kisses, running her fingers through his hair.  "I’d almost forgotten what it feels like."

Andrew looked deeply into her eyes.  "And what does it feel like?" he asked, kissing the tip of her nose before returning his lips to hers.

"Heaven," she answered.  "No.  Magic."  Her eyes closed as his lips moved down her neck to the curves of her body.  "Definitely a kind of magic."

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