The man in the corner watched his bride to be float through the room.  She had no idea what was running through his mind, nor did she even know he was there. Knowing his thoughts could startle her he kept them to himself, but he could see it clearly, of how it would be. Taking a drink of his whiskey he let his imagination flow.

Reaching out to claim her hand, “my dance, I believe.”

She was in his arms and whirling before she realized his intent. Not that she wished to stop him, but she had no clue who he was. But the nearness of his body to hers left her breathless and she couldn’t remember why it was so inappropriate to be this close to a stranger. As it was, with arms like iron and long thighs hard as oak parting hers, she immediately fell prey to a host of feelings. The pale silk of her gown was no barrier against his coat. The contact had her nipples tingling. Catching her breathe as her heart began to speed up. Lips parting in invitation. With practiced ease he lowered his lips and tasted her. With a shiver of anticipation of what was to come she pulled back.

Coming back to reality as he continued to watch her clear the tables in the bar. Not knowing the time or year, completely lost in the last minutes of her life, she began to slip away. 

Sighing to himself, patiently he will continue to wait.

Soon she’ll wake from deaths dream and he will claim her hand. Together they will spend eternity dancing in a lovers dance.