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Pointed toes and arms that envelope around the crooks of their collaborators compliment the fluid transitions. A smooth and flawless combination of entwined bodies sweep across the floor. Lucid movements fall in sync with the symphonic beats of an unknown jazz band.
‘Not bad, for a man that claims to have two left feet,’ Dom teases. A broad smile accompanies slightly bent knees; hand extended. His fingers brush over Louis’ knuckles. The quickened breathing pace levels, ‘care to do me the honour of a fine refreshment?’
Louis chuckles, fingers lightly hoisting Dom upwards to meet his eyeline. It's a playful reenactment of etiquecy. ‘With company as exquisite and as fine as yours, how could I possibly refuse?’
Dom grins stupidly. A hand supports Louis’ back for five steps before linking hands to avoid losing one another amongst the bustle of giddy folk. Two fingers signal a repetition of the famous liquor; a gin rickey. Louis smiles, accepting the generous offer. Their glasses clink.
‘You remembered,’ he compliments, taking a sip. The dash of lemon slides around the rim; colliding against the dimple beside his lips.
‘I mean, it's a renowned drink, popular in taste by many,’ Dom begins. His fingers caress the outer of the tumbler, ‘but flattery in regard to recalling our previous discussion over a liquor in the office, out of hours, swings more towards a higher recommendation.’
Louis falters.
‘It's a mere jest.’ Dom smiles warmly. Their eyes meet. His voice lowers in seductivity; fingers lightly dancing over Louis’ bare forearm, ‘how could I possibly forget that night?’
His newly dampened lips are parted in desire to reignite the electrifying spark shared that fine evening; two glasses of liquor unfinished on the side table; hands and limbs preoccupied elsewhere. Their lips taken off course, finding new places to explore without consuming any refreshments. Those glasses became discarded, unlike the memoirs of that fine evening.
‘It hasn't left my mind; for one day nor one second. A positive lingering within,’ Louis confesses.
Dom leans closer. Their fingers brush and dance in harmony. ‘A refreshment of an exceptional evening perhaps unnecessary?’
‘Necessary in satisfying the lingering desire to share a sweet taste of lemon; the need to share the same breath,’ Louis confesses softly.
‘Perhaps a spot with less commotion?’ Dom proposes, eying up a nearby vacant booth. Louis obliges, nestling beside his date, posture relaxing into the upholstery. ‘A summer's dream,’ he whispers, eyes slowly heightening to absorb Louis’ soft features.
‘Summer’s dream?’ Louis partially stammers, drawing circles over the back of Dom’s hand. Longing to feel the uneven, broken skin beneath his equally rough fingers fulfils one desire from a long list of wants. He smiles, a focused thumb gently rubbing over a dark mark, embedded between the pigments of Dom’s skin. ‘Lose a battle with the motor?’ He muses.
Dom chuckles, his fingertips finding Louis’ forearm. ‘Something like that.’ He traces over the dark patches. ‘Were the rail tracks coated with more oil than usual?’
‘Something like that,’ he teases gently. Their eyes meet. ‘Summer’s dream, you say?’
He hums. ‘You are the summer's dream in question.’
A longing of stares welcomingly forces their lips to gently curve upwards. Louis swirls the refreshment. It sloshes over the ice cubes, lightly sprinkling the rim. Dom silently drains half of his glass, the fingers on his free hand discreetly twirling and twisting around Louis’. Their linking of fingers falls from over his thigh, to the gap between their semi-parted thighs. The cool upholstery contrasts against the heat building between them.
‘A summer's dream is not complete without flowers in full bloom, colours adorned as far as the eye can see,’ Louis whispers.
His lips part, eyes darting over Dom’s features. The low lighting casts an unwelcoming shadow, hiding a portion of his face. He dampens his lips, a hint of hope lingering within. A wishful inhale settles the apprehension. Louis’ demeanour softens, fingers softly finding solace at Dom’s hips. Index fingers loop themselves into the vacant belt loops. Soft, newly dampened lips pleasantly connect with equally gentle presses. Their bodies fall into a non vocalised sync. Contented exhalations merge with their varied, newfound pressure.
‘Isla finding a passion for guitar has been a silver lining through all the darkened clouds,’ Louis confesses, politely straightening out Dom’s silk black tie.
Dom blinks in bewilderment. ‘Darkened clouds?’
‘Expenditure has been on the tighter side. Keeping it under wraps involves a probability of loopholes,’ Louis pauses, draining his glass; a dreg of refreshment remains, ‘Isla found acquaintance with the school’s monthly unclaimed lost property shoes.’ Thumbs gently massage his temples, ‘one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.’
‘The officials faltered in their predictions of coming back stronger,’ Dom discloses. His exhale borders on a whistle of discontent. ‘It played out exactly how the people presumed it would. The paupers and the breadline being the scroungers on the bottom of the pecking line of wealth and class.’
Louis hums in agreement. ‘The recovery period has been an unwanted extension. Interior belongings are superficial, a hiding of lowered income and unbalanced, heightened expenditure.’
‘Recession hit our pockets hard. Though, understandably harder for those with more mouths to feed, like yourself,’ Dom empathises.
He reverses the empathy, ‘secondary occupations required lower incomes. Presumably yourself, the standard rate being less than to accommodate those with less abilities to compensate for additional expenses and luxuries.’
Dom shrugs in agreement. ‘Yes. However, the income sustained from the additional occupation, couldn't amount to any length of wealth discovered, going forward from the day we became acquainted.’
Louis smiles. His cheeks taint; concealed by the shadows casted from low lighting. ‘A feeling shared mutually.’
He mimics Louis’ expression. ‘Isla is thriving, coming on leaps and bounds; manners more fluent than King George.’
A shared chuckle accompanies the compliment.
‘It brings great pride to know her actions are well received,’ Louis shares gratefully. His finger outlines the rim of the empty glass. ‘Isla speaks highly of you, might I confess.’
‘Care to elaborate over a shared refreshment?’ Dom proposes, gathering the glasses between two fingers. With expressed gratitude for Louis’ shifted posture, Dom heightens the glasses. His movements are captured by Louis’ lustful eyes.
‘If my memory serves me correctly, I believe your order may possibly be engraved, from that primary mention going forth,’ Dom muses, letting the refreshment pass hands.
Louis sips immediately. ‘An order safely stored for future use?’
‘With great hope.’ Dom smiles brightly. Louis nestles beside him.
Their prior posture reforms.
‘On the note of hopefulness.’ Dom falters. Their eyes meet. ‘I'm in deep water, curiosity stricken, if you will.’ Louis chuckles. ‘In presumption of your love for melodies, through plucking a chord or two and tickling the ivories; how far into your veins does jazz run?’
He hums. ‘If melodies resembled oxygen; I'd breathe jazz.’ Louis blinks in curiosity. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I ponder whether you'd entertain an evening of jazz, free admission, music presented by yours truly,’ Dom confesses.
‘I would be most delighted,’ Louis confirms. He grins. ‘On which evening should I accompany?’
Dom smiles stupidly. ‘Jolly good. Third Saturday of the upcoming month at the dance hall; commencing at nineteen hundred hours on the dot.’
He nods in understanding. ‘Grand. I'll be sure to polish the brogues, fasten the trusty braces and flash the two left feet; front row,’ Louis muses.
‘The folk will be equally delighted as myself, for such exquisite company,’ Dom compliments. His fingers brush over Louis’. ‘In light of reason for these refreshments primarily, you ominously expressed Isla's choice of words-’
‘Ah yes,’ Louis interjects brightly. ‘Isla ritually praises your, quoted, ‘undeniable talent,’ pairing such high praise with,’ he pauses to tap a finger; reeling off the list of recited adjectives, ‘friendly, welcoming, hilarious and good-hearted.’
Dom chuckles. ‘It seems I've made a long-lasting imprint on Isla, at least.’
‘Perhaps not solely Isla,’ Louis teases. He smirks behind the rim of the glass, pre-taking a mindful sip. ‘Secondary imprints spike curiosity in the recipient.’
‘And, are you curious?’ Dom probes, leaning closer.
Louis hums purposefully. ‘Perhaps, one time or another more than presently. Acquainting with you currently, is welcoming.’ He drains half of the refreshment.
He smiles. ‘Again, a feeling mutually shared.’ Dom’s thumb brushes over Louis’ ring finger. His eyes fall onto the movement.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Louis queries. He bites his lip, a smile of hope wanting to break free. ‘Optimism lies within us both.’
Dom's eyes gloss over with unshed tears of sentiment. ‘Really?’ He mouths. Louis nods. ‘Folk would raise their brows in suspicion of tempting fate.’
‘Outsiders can judge, though only insiders have their hearts connected in contentment, despite a counting of prearranged meetings,’ Louis reassures, gently squeezing Dom's hand. ‘Tempting fate falls outside the category of admiration, when both hearts find adoration within.’ Their eyes meet. ‘The evening of shared passion only confirmed the concealed affection.’
Dom mutters a unified embracement of feelings, sealing it with an equally passionate kiss.
Faces a margin apart; eyes glistening with tears of sentiment, Dom makes a preposition Louis cannot refuse. Their glasses are drained, hands are entwined and Dom leads Louis to the mid-centre of the floor. Light laughter surrounds them. It tumbles from their own lips. A grand finale Charleston routine completes their spectacular evening.
**
Dom's hands loosely perch at Louis’ hips. Their eyes meet, lips curling upwards in contentment. A bead of sweat is glistening above their brows and a pink hue taints their cheeks. Louis’ feet pleasantly hum from gliding across the floor; body naturally falling into the rhythmic flow.
‘That was spectacular,’ he enthuses. Dom's eyes sparkle with gratitude. ‘Folk were jiving.’
‘And the only focal point for me, despite all of the appreciation, was the one who captured my heart many moons ago,’ Dom confesses.
Louis smiles, loosely linking their fingers together. His thumbs brush over the flesh between Dom's thumb and forefinger. ‘Care for a refreshment?’
‘I'd love one.’ Dom leans closer. He licks his lips, the curve transforming into a smirk. ‘Fancy breaking free from the watchful eyes and escaping to somewhere calmer for said refreshment?’
‘What did you have in mind?’ Louis probes, welcoming the suggestion with open arms.
Dom smiles. ‘Your place or mine?’ Their eyes meet. ‘The office is closed for business, but I'm sure I could make an exception for an emergency booking,’ he muses.
Louis chuckles. ‘The consumption there was a high selection to say the least,’ he confesses, choosing to lay a palm over Dom's waistcoat pocket. The temperature difference is noticeable; warm fingers tracing over the craftsmanship of the ice-cold pocket watch. He hums. ‘That and the unexpected, complimentary kiss.’
‘Away from the prying eyes of those dissatisfied with homosexuality,’ Dom mumbles.
‘Away from the prying eyes of those dissatisfied with a natural concept; love ,’ Louis corrects gently.
Dom hums in agreement. ‘Aye, that is true.’ He offers a hand for Louis to loosely hold, escorting him through the bustling premises to the elements of the outside world.
The sky is dotted with faint stars, the outlines of dusky grey clouds notify the pair of the late hour. A walk filled with laughter, echoing for streets around aids in the passing of time; their shared company blinding them to the length of the journey.
‘Time flies when you're having fun, as they say,’ Dom confesses, in regard to Louis’ query about the walk seemingly shorter than anticipated. An exchange of smiles accompanies their discarding of outdoor clothing once stepping over the threshold.
‘Care for a drop of brandy in your tea; ward off those evening chills?’ He suggests, gathering up their disregarded shoes. They're neatly placed beneath the free standing coat rack.
‘Aye. That would be grand, thank you,’ Louis accepts. He politely follows Dom into the quaint kitchen area. Tanned coloured walls open up the space; the room struggles for airiness from displayed kitchenware. Labelled jars occupy shelving units, unfavourably spilling onto the top of cabinets. He has utilised the space accordingly, leaving marginal manoeuvring room between the table towards floor based cabinets and appliances. If Louis extends his arms, however, to check for personal space like they often taught him during physical education lessons in preparation for less accidents, he would fail to find ample room. Offset in the centre of a crafted wooden table lies an assortment of freshly baked bread; hidden and preserved by a tea-towel.
‘We could reside beside the kettle and freshly baked goods, or surround ourselves in higher end upholstery; succumbing our ears to a selection of records?’ Dom proposes, settling the kettle onto the stove.
Louis falters. ‘Some musical ambience would be most welcomed.’ He drums his fingers along the wooden backrest of a kitchen chair. ‘I didn't realise there was a fully equipped kitchen area fitted with the studio?’
Dom unfastens the button on his waistcoat. He smiles. ‘I'd say it's not a secret that I live on the premises, the studio a mere extension of my lifestyle, but it is in fact hush-hush.’
‘My lips are firmly sealed, forbidden to speak out of turn on such arrangement,’ Louis muses.
He smirks, closing the gap between them. Their eyes sparkle. ‘I sincerely hope those lips are not too reserved for a peck or two.’
Louis chuckles softly. ‘I'm sure I could waver from the confidentiality with a sweet peck or two.’
Dom chooses to seize the moment. An ear piercing shrill from the kettle forces their moment to end; lips parting in response.
‘Care for a visiting order to witness old haunts or pulling up a pew in the adjoining room of comfort?’ Dom suggests, capturing sight of Louis’ longful stares towards the four walls that sparked the simmering flame of their relationship. ‘Either option is more than accepted on my part.’
‘Creating new memories leaves the heart yearning for more,’ Louis confesses. He follows the gentleman into the sitting room. His hands wrap around the tin teacup; fingers tingling at the newfound warmth.
Dom crosses his feet at the ankles. The trouser leg rides up, revealing bare ankles. His elbows press into the hardened upholstery, body encased by the widespread singular chair. Louis’ stature is almost identical. His head rests midway, against the backrest of the chair; the upholstery manufactured unaccordingly. Regardless, the pair embrace the surroundings. Obtaining a portion of Louis’ eyeline is an evenly stacked bookcase; preserved by a sheet of glass. It's obscured by the littering of fingerprints and smears; drawing a potential conclusion within that Dom is an avid reader. Hand painted masterpieces cover various sections of the walls, providing the room with a sense of homeliness. He finds comfort in the minor details and final touches of a home.
‘That one was gained from an auction,’ Dom explains, finger directing towards the art piece in question. ‘He was thought to be passionate in both art and love.’
‘Thought?’ Louis reiterates. Dom nods. ‘That alters the perception of the piece for sure.’ He sips the consumption cautiously.
Dom chuckles. ‘Is that a polite comment, illustrating you perhaps weren't fond of the piece?’
Louis’ eyes are wide. ‘Oh gosh, no.’ He titters. ‘I were implying that the detail and precision placed in the masterpiece were not solely based upon a desire for income, but rather through a love of painting.’
‘Only one could aspire to harbour such talent,’ Dom enthuses. He politely rises to his feet. A small sip of tea forces a pause in speech. ‘Care for a little ambience?’
‘A personal serenade?’ Louis queries, taken aback.
He watches Dom wordlessly confirm his suspicion; tugging at the edges of his waistcoat once seated in front of the instrument. The teacup balances on the far corner; the liquid mostly drained. Fingers poise above the keys and a breath of composure is released. His eyes flutter closed all while his fingertips tickle the ivories. It's a calming melody, the pitching of tones complimenting the next.
Their eyes meet, though the flow in ambience remains. Louis is astounded by the natural ability. His complimentary applause and whistles on the final note cause Dom's cheeks to faintly taint.
‘A kiss would have sufficed, though the award-winning applause, mimicking a whole room of people exceeded any expectations I could have ever imagined,’ Dom compliments, residing his hands at Louis’ hips once heightened in posture.
Sealing the approval, Louis unexpectedly plants a delicate kiss to Dom's lips. A small synchronicity is orchestrated.
‘It seems the decision to create new, lasting memories was a conclusion well made,’ Louis confesses softly. He thumbs over the inside seam of the waistcoat; a centimetre below the collarbone. ‘Tailored?’
Dom smiles. ‘Pre-loved, though evidently hand sewn and bespoke.’
‘Fits like a glove,’ he observes.
‘Fate.’ Dom's eyes flicker across Louis’ content expression. ‘Just like something else I know.’
Louis blinks. His curiosity peaks, fingers heightening to caress the four day old stubble on Dom's jaw. ‘What might that be?’
He steps a little closer. His voice lowers to a gentle whisper of certainty, ‘Isla attending my classes. More to the point,’ Dom's opened palm cups Louis’ flushed cheek, ‘you,’ he finishes; the vowels partially inaudible.
‘How so?’ Louis queries.
‘Isla could have begun learning to strum from someone other than myself. Though, she did not; her choice was influenced by no other than chance,’ Dom begins. His thumb caresses the soft skin above Louis’ lips. ‘And that fateful decision, pun intended, led me to the gentleman before me, who, in supposition, captures my heart with little to no regret.’
Louis chuckles. ‘And what draws such a conclusion of unapologetic nature?’ Dom smiles stupidly. ‘Reciprocating emotions are present, might I add.’
‘A declaration offers relief-’
‘Though a simple kiss would have sufficed,’ Louis completes, pressing his lips against Dom's. He smiles into the appreciative hum the gentleman is airing.
‘Care for a refilled refreshment?’ Dom proposes. His thumb brushes over the crease between Louis’ thumb and forefinger. Their eyes meet in a shared loving and longing stare.
Louis smiles appreciatively. ‘That would be grand. Pleasant distractions allowed the warmed refreshment to become a touch cooler. And on the contrary, borderline unpleasant.’
His smile broadens, complimenting his soft chuckle. ‘A desire for a welcomed company to prolong such a stay is subtly offered with a more appealing refreshment.’ Dom winks, receiving a palm gently placed across his heart. In favour of the sentiment, he overlaps his fingers, securing the hold Louis has against his chest.
Smiling, Louis presses a gentle kiss to Dom's lips. ‘You mention subtlety, though, perhaps, wishful thinking of being offered an extended stay swayed all odds from those above.’ He brushes a spec of lint from Dom's shoulder blade. ‘A suppose that suggested beverage could be complimented by comforts and enclosed embraces,’ he proposes.
‘That would be delightful.’
A trio of parting kisses seal the offer for Louis to take the weight off his feet while Dom refreshes their beverages. Two steaming tea cups later, accompanied by a small selection of ginger nuts.
Louis pleasantly hums. A curved finger is pressed against his lips in hope of capturing any crumbs. His taste buds are awakened by the complimentary snack. ‘Mm.’ He swallows down the oversized portion. ‘These are delicious. I haven't tasted one since-’
‘The rationings?’ Dom supposes. Louis nods. ‘Me neither. The first one I devoured was these, given to me several days ago by a client.’ He taps the ginger nut against the decorative edging of the plate. Securing any further rogue crumbs from falling, Dom cups a palm beneath his lips. ‘I didn't think I was going to see another ginger nut for many, many moons to come.’
Louis agrees humorously. ‘I guess witnessing luxuries first hand, beit a gift, assures us with hope that all devastation and upheaval is fading; transpiring into a fateful and disastrous memoir, rather than a continuing reality.’ His lips twist in solemn. ‘A longstanding one with scars in many formations, might I add.’
Dom mumbles his agreement. ‘So much has been lost in translation, through sheer misfortune and hatred.’ He breaks the final biscuit in two, offering the divided portion to Louis. A grateful smile accompanies a verbalised appreciation. ‘I found hope that civilisation could be restored, perhaps not to a full potential as of yet, but somewhat, a sense of rebuilding, the days following our acquaintance.’
‘How so?’ Louis queries, breaking the moon shaped biscuit in half. Popping a chunk into his mouth, he awaits a response; eyes focusing solely on Dom's.
There's a comfortable silence shared.
‘Finding the appropriate words of expression in emphasising the importance of your presence proves difficult,’ Dom confesses. ‘It's more-’ his hands heighten, palms overturned; a rolling of wrists subconsciously aids in capturing the desired vocabulary, ‘the internal feelings of serenity, a sense of balancing the upended scales while offering harmonious jubilance.’
Louis’ lips partially curl upwards. It's music to his ears, hearing the feelings reciprocated. ‘Flowers blooming after the storm that battered their tender petals, repairing the torn edges of their fragile outering that protects the most vulnerable and precious pollen. The stalk which holds the nutrients, a resemblance to a human heart that thrives on contentment, love and oxygen; an essential concoction to survive and flourish.’ He licks his fingers, evaporating the excess crumbs.
Dom mutters in agreement. ‘A comparison, accurate to the finest of details.’ He smiles. ‘Once the flowers fall succumb to the changing of seasons, wilting at the discontentment, personal hope tingles, a ponder as to whether our shared passion too, will perhaps deplete.’
‘I withhold belief that our love can withstand the strongest of storms, yet to fall within our path,’ Louis assures.