Preparations

She sits.

Staring into the mirror she thinks about the day. All morning and afternoon was filled with anticipation and the gala that night was enchanting. She's sure that the memory of this evening will grow sweeter with time.

Even now, in her mind she can see her reflection. Her hair carefully arranged atop her head. The beautiful earrings gently decorating her image. The creamy color placed so gently on her eyes and the full red of her lips. He hadn't exaggerated when he told her that she was stunning, the eyes of all those present seemed to linger a bit longer as she passed. Even the hostess seemed jealous at how much her presence radiated at the event.

If the wishes of young hearts come true, this certainly was hers. And now, at the end of it all here she sits. Staring and remembering. A heavy sigh leaves her mouth.

Slowly she reaches for her brush.

She places the soft bristles into her hair and begins to comb out her tresses. With each pass, she thinks about how nice it felt to be in his arms. If only he could be here now. Would that the brush were his fingers, making gentle waves through each strand. Her silken threads flowing past the smooth strength that was there in his hands as they danced.

Even now, she could remember as he leaned in close during the waltz and told her once more how lovely she looked. If he were here, between passes, he might lean in once more. His warm breath lightly tickling the stray hairs about her ears as he whispers his passion for her.

As she looks up from combing out her hair, she sees her hands. Her delicate fingers still tingling with the electricity caused by his touch. Even more romantic had been the way that he brought the back of her hand to his lips and lightly brushed them there in greeting. Had it been anyone else, that old fashioned greeting might have seemed out of place, but tonight, perfectly charming.

And to think, those same hands had guided her about the dance floor. His hands and arms became extensions of his will, indicating the direction and step she needed to take. There seemed to be no fear to be had there with him leading. 

Was she under his power there on the floor?

No. She remembered how with the merest glance, he had known when she wished to leave the ballroom floor. It was if he was reading her mind, because every moment she seemed about ready to make a suggestion, he was already performing the needed task. It truly was her evening.

Catching her mind wandering as she brushes her hair, she snaps back to her preparations. She has already cleared away the pigments from her face and eyes. Her dress has been carefully arrange back into the closet. Will she ever have the chance to wear it again? She certainly hopes this to be the case.

Her eyes have grown heavy now. With great care, she removes the first of the soft lenses from her pupils. If only those contacts could have captured the imagery from this evening. The soft candle glow at the table, the gay colors that adorned the room. It was all so perfect, it would be a tragedy for time to soften the memory.

Looking at the mirror with the other eye, she notices the color of her eyes and reflects on how dreamily his eyes stared into her own. Once more, she longs to have him here. She could lose herself in his eyes. They were smiling all night long and on more than one occasion, she was certain they flashed with passion and desire.

Placing the last of her evening routine into order, she rises from her seat in front of the mirror. She smiles one last time at the beautiful woman reflected there and slowly turns. One last time, her imagination takes flight and she imagines turning into his arms as he sweeps her off her feet. Placing her gently into bed with a kiss.