Swing Night (standard:romance, 1535 words)
Author: Rene Amador	Added: Jun 17 2002	Views/Reads: 3518/2450	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I'm guess I'm just a hopeless romantic when it comes down to it. It's one of those evenings when everything falls into place.

The bar was hopping that night at the Green Mill.  Sean sipped his red
wine as the band played on.  Sitting at the bar on a Thursday night was 
his favorite pastime.  This way he had a clear view of every woman that 
walked into the joint.  Mitch sat at the door and collected the 
five-dollar cover from everyone.  He of course let the ladies in for 
free when they were unescorted.  Mitch was every man s best friend in 
the place. 

Sean judged women like he judged wine.  A tall brunette with legs a mile
long each passed by him and immediately he compared her to a cabernet; 
full body with a mild yet satisfying taste.  The red-head donning a 
full length dress with a slit running up the side to her waist was a 
merlot; strong and in your face and always surprising, packing a punch 
that lasted on your lips the whole night.  The blonde sitting at the 
end of the bar that looked like she escaped the set of a 
black-and-white forties movie was a shiraz; exotic and inviting, 
offering everything at once.  It was a little overpowering if you didn 
t know what you were getting into.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = 
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He liked all of the flavors that were served but for now he chose to
remain with the drink in his hand.  It didn t expect anything from him 
and he didn t expect anything in return except for a slight kick that 
could always be repeated as necessary.  The band played on and the 
music felt so right.  Everyone was having a good time and enjoying the 
band s effort.  Usually the jukebox provided the atmosphere but nothing 
can set the mood for the evening like a live band can. 

Alan Greslick s Orchestra only had eight players but sounded like
sixteen.  Two trumpets, two saxophones, a piano man, a drummer, a bass 
player and the leader made up the group.  Thursday nights were their 
usual gigs and they packed them in.  The dance floor, or what little 
existed, filled quickly with couples that practiced religiously all 
week long for this one night to show off what they had learned.  
Finding a dance partner was no problem.  Every one either sat at the 
tables and booths lining the floor or stood in what space was left, 
watching.  One would just have to ask for a lady s hand. 

Sean stood up to ask for a dance when he caught a skirt in the corner of
his eye at the end of the bar.  She sat on the stool drinking a 
martini, the crooner s usual choice of beverage.  Stirring her olives 
in her glass playfully she beckoned strangers to her presence.  Sean 
couldn t help but to feel the pull in her direction.  He could feel the 
force tugging at his shirt collar.  The call was so strong he was 
forced to change directions.  Sean sat down on the stool beside her. 

Sean considered himself the ladies man but there was something about her
that he couldn t put his finger on.  As much as he knew, Sean had never 
seen her before and he was a regular.  He was able to strike up 
conversations like it was nobody s business but for a few minutes he 
couldn t think of anything to say.  Finally, he figured that saying 
anything at all was better than not saying a thing. 

How do you like the band thus far? 

Thus ?  An educated man?  I like that. 

That s the first time I ve been complemented on my choice of words.  I m
Sean. 

I m Dana.  Please to meet you. 

Likewise, I m sure.  Can I offer you a drink? 

Sure.  Hmm, a gentleman and a scholar.  I wonder what else you are, she
mused as her eyes focused on him. 

We could have a conversation and find out more about each other. 

Well, conversation is a lost art form and I for one am up for reviving
it from its slumber. 

The next hour, Sean and Dana talked at great lengths at the bar while
sipping their drinks.  The band playing provided the perfect background 
for conversations and bringing up a variety of topics.  It also gave 


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