"Not far," she promises, and squeezes his hand. "I just needed to find a flat enough spot, but I still wanted to be in sight of the lake."
She leads him a few more yards, then tugs him gently to a halt and lets go of his hand. "Wait here," she tells him, and moves a few steps away, then turns back to him and smile. "Okay. Open your eyes."
As he does, before he can adjust too much to the dim evening light, she hits the switch in her other hand and illuminates the twinkling string lights she'd strung on the stakes she'd set up around the little area she'd created: a miniature dance floor, about ten feet wide and ten feet across, made up of interlocking pieces of compressed wood flooring over a rubber mat. To the side sits the table from the hut, laid with a basket of food and a bottle of champagne on ice, cheek and jowl with a small speaker system; past it she'd spread the purple and smoke blanket, ready for a picnic.
As for herself, she stands on the makeshift floor, her hair waved and pinned back over one ear, wearing a pale gold dress that drifts gracefully around her knees with each movement. From the top of her head with its pin-waved curls and cherry-red lipstick to the tips of her toes, in silk stockings and dance shoes, she might have stepped right out of a motion picture from 1945.
"So." She's watching him with undisguised, delighted anticipation. "What do you think?"
no subject
She leads him a few more yards, then tugs him gently to a halt and lets go of his hand. "Wait here," she tells him, and moves a few steps away, then turns back to him and smile. "Okay. Open your eyes."
As he does, before he can adjust too much to the dim evening light, she hits the switch in her other hand and illuminates the twinkling string lights she'd strung on the stakes she'd set up around the little area she'd created: a miniature dance floor, about ten feet wide and ten feet across, made up of interlocking pieces of compressed wood flooring over a rubber mat. To the side sits the table from the hut, laid with a basket of food and a bottle of champagne on ice, cheek and jowl with a small speaker system; past it she'd spread the purple and smoke blanket, ready for a picnic.
As for herself, she stands on the makeshift floor, her hair waved and pinned back over one ear, wearing a pale gold dress that drifts gracefully around her knees with each movement. From the top of her head with its pin-waved curls and cherry-red lipstick to the tips of her toes, in silk stockings and dance shoes, she might have stepped right out of a motion picture from 1945.
"So." She's watching him with undisguised, delighted anticipation. "What do you think?"