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breathlessly, slapping the table. Laughter all around!  Blaze’s face reflected real satisfaction as he smiled over at her.  Now what was dangerous was when Lynette just let loose - when the sometimes reserved, professional woman took a back seat to the wild child which peeked out occasionally from within her.  Frankly it scared Clare some, because she’d seen her high on Mexican food.  The carbs evidentially went directly to her blood stream, and there was no telling what she’d do in that condition.  Whatever came up, came out.  Once when she and Lynette were training down in the Rio Grande Valley, someone impertinently asked Lynette on her birthday how old she was.  Instead of taking offense, her retort was, “I’m one year older than my bra size!” She straightened her posture, lifting her ample chest and let them quietly guess if they wanted to.
     
    Aaron beckoned the waitress over to the table and ordered chips and salsa and a round of beers for the guys and whatever the ladies wanted to drink. “I’m still stuffed from dinner,” Clare insisted.
    “Well, we’ll just hafta dance that down now won’t we,” Aaron joked, patting Clare’s hand in a warm, familiar way.
    The four new friends watched intently as an old couple, who’d obviously been dancing together for forty years, showed their stuff on the floor.  They were so smooth and entertaining that everyone gave them a hand when they finished.
    “It’s sure nice to see a couple like that,” Clare spoke up.  There was something wistful in her voice.
     
    “Let’s try this one,” Aaron said to Clare, taking her hand and leading her away from the table.  The DJ played I Wanna Know What Love Is by the group Foreigner.  It was one of Lynette’s favorite recordings.  There was a point in the early part of the song where the instruments and a voice simulated what Lynette often thought of as a musical orgasm.  She shivered noticeably, closed her eyes, let the feeling flow through her body and smiled.  Blaze was watching her as always.  He scooted his chair closer to her so they wouldn’t have to talk loudly over the music.
    “What was that?” he asked, as she continued to smile.
    “Can’t tell you, yet.  Maybe one of these days,” she replied, a little embarrassed.  “Yet…One of these days,” what did that mean?
    Both were very sentient beings . Blaze was becoming ever aware of her subtle body languages.  And languages was plural.  Lynette said a lot with her body; with her hands; with the intonation of her voice, her facial expressions, and the way she turned to Blaze to talk.
    “I do love your last name, Blaze Snow Comes Down,” she said softly.
    “Why?” he asked her, with his chin propped up on his fist, leaning on his elbow toward her.
    “I grew up in the mid-west.  We had long, hard winters.  The thing I enjoyed most about winter was the snow.  It covered everything that was ugly with a resplendent blanket of white.  It made everything equal.  In the moonlight, it turned blue and shimmered like billions of tiny diamonds.  It was clean and just plain beautiful.  I could walk in it and leave my foot prints, then come back later and try to find them under the newest layer.  I liked to look at the neighbors’ yards where no one had trod.  It was pure.  It was silent.  Have you ever listened to snow coming down?  It makes no sound; it lays gently and softly over everything, concealing and protecting everything,” she finished.  Speaking of snow, sounded sensual.  She was back there, feeling the flakes on her face, tasting the wet, coldness on her gloves, listening for the crunch of her boots, watching her breath go into the frigid air.
     
    Blaze looked intently at her.  He saw more than a woman who wasn’t a stranger any longer.  In this moment he felt as if he’d known her for a long time.  If he hadn’t, he felt he should have.  He wanted to draw closer to her, to kiss her, but propriety required