Crossing the line

One more for the road

Her name rolled off his lips so easily, if a bit slurred; could he be drunk ? It would certainly explain why he smiled that much, or why the lines of propriety seemed to blurr at his contact. His voice, though, awakened her frontal lobe and her wits returned full force. This is when she realised that the next song playing was 'Expresso love' from dire Straits. A sudden suspicion arose as she lifted an eyebrow to him.

— "Did you have a hand in ..."

— "The playlist, yeah. I had to whine a bit but I needed something to dance to"

Her lips quirked up, amused by his not so innocent look – she knew he loved Dire Straits... and he knew she shared it. But when she attempted to retrieve her hand, his fingers only tightened around hers.

— "Dance that one with me"

His sultry tone caused her breath to hitch, and she had to shake herself out of the Tristan induced haze to respond.

— "You know what they said in Georgian times. Two dances with the same woman..."

— "You certainly know your history, Frances."

She was biting her lip now, undecided. He was a teacher, clearly a little inebriated, that she would kiss senseless at the first occasion. And even if he didn't realise it – or did he ? – he was clearly in a flirting mood. How would his reputation fare should people notice a second dance, a couple's dance, with a student ?

— "Frances ?"

His hand was tugging now, insistent, and she realised she just couldn't let go now. There would be time, once the song was finished, to accept her fate. But not now; if he intended to offer three more precious minutes in his arms, who was she to refuse ? For once, she was tired of being reasonable and denying her whims. So she nodded instead, and the beaming smile that bloomed on his face was so such worth it. It could have melted the Antarctic !

And so they faced each other again, soaking in the great riffs of 'Expresso Love' that only begged to be danced upon. And dance they did; a few basics steps, twice, then Mr Kristiansen started unleashing his talent. And God, he was good ! If waltzing had felt like a gentle carousel, a call to relax and enjoy simple swirls in his arms, Rock'n'roll with him was akin to climbing in a roller coaster. Frances' rock days were few, causing her to miss steps here and there but it didn't matter for his arms never faltered. She gravitated around him like the moon around earth. A planet to the sun. And what a sun ! Bright, and burning, feverish even as his long hands led her around him, twisting, turning, leaving her hand on one side and picking it up in the other. For a moment, the young woman was so overwhelmed that she could only follow.

Then, little by little, she started to let go. Let go of the steps which, in the end, could be mingled a little as long as she kept the trajectory. Let go of the weariness that told her to stay away. Let go of her principles as she enjoyed herself thoroughly, surrendering her body to a man that she trusted. Wherever he led, she went, whenever he twisted his hand, she would turn around; Whenever he smiled, her heart leapt in joy.

Until she missed a step, then another, and lost the rhythm entirely. Sheepish, she looked up, trying to attune herself to him once more. But instead, he gathered her into his arms and whispered in her ear.

— "Tired ?"

Frances nodded, helpless at repressing the shudder that ran up her spine. Damn that man with such a sensual voice. And those warms hands, mmm. And instead of starting the steps again, he just swayed them for a while, his heart beating so hard against his chest that she saw the vibration of his dark shirt. She so badly wanted to lay her hand upon it. He looked so incredibly gorgeous... Frances sighed, and eventually allowed her head to rest against his collarbone. She was sure that, for a few seconds, his cheek touched her hair. And while the beat of the rock remained unchanged, they both took a great breath of contentment.

— "I'm crazy about that girl", he murmured in her ear.

And despite the fact that those words came from the song, she couldn't help but feel that they were meant for her.

His spine suddenly stiffened and Frances pulled away immediately. But her teacher's gaze was fixed elsewhere, and when he returned his attention to her, it was to whisk his partner away in the dance again. Again and again, the same moves, more graceful now that she knew his patterns. More forceful, as he put more energy into it. Perhaps a little desperate, as the guitar riff sung and the ending came close. As the song picked up energy, so did they, mingling the steps as they circled against each other. Daring more, until he wound his arms around her and lifted her up entirely, turning and turning. Frances lifted one of her legs, like a skating porté, letting go as his strong arms encased her against his chest. She was truly flying this time, and it was exhilarating... so much that when he stumbled, she was almost sent sprawling to the ground.

His recovery didn't cover the fact that his equilibrium was all messed up, and Frances laughed it off.

— "That's it, you're drunk."

Her geography teacher gave her a sheepish smile, so boyish, so disappointed that it tugged at her heart. So, instead of kicking his ass away to his colleagues, she grabbed his arm and tugged.

— "Come, you need a glass of water and a little downtime"

And while they made it off the building, the music's end gathered a chorus of students who had enjoyed the song as much as they had; Rock'N'Roll wasn't dead after all. She led Tristan to the men's room, waiting for him to emerge as boys went to and fro, some underage and looking very smashed... and not necessarily with alcohol. Would the supervisors show up at any point ? This was bound to end up badly. Further away, she could hear a few couples giggle under the stairs.

Frowning, Frances realised that Mr Kristiansen had yet to show up, and each passing minute caused her worry to increase. Perhaps she would have to enlist some help to throw him into a taxi ? She was about to ask a boy of seventeen to tell her about the status inside when he emerged, his face washed off and droplets clinging to his lovely straight nose. His hair was damp in places, as if he had thrown his head into the sink directly. And his shoulders... far from the man that had asked her to dance so cheekily, he seemed defeated.

— "Will you be all right ?", she asked, concerned.

— "Yes... No. I ... listen, can we talk ? Before ..."

Before they had to say goodbye ? The very notion caused her stomach to clench painfully. Anything, anything to keep him to herself one more minute. Even if she had to write a thousand page essay on Louis the XVth. Anything.

— "OK", she shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant.

Her feelings must remain hidden at all costs. Something flickered behind his eyes, some kind of shadow for he did not come any closer. Instead, he seemed to grind his teeth together, as if considering the foolishness of his next request. Need eventually won the battle against reason as he whispered.

— "Not here. Meet me in my classroom"