Dance him to the edge of love. (Or is it lust?) March 27, 2011 11:35
You danced. With him. Till 3 a.m. The rumba. The foxtrot. The tango. The cha cha. The bolero. The ballroom two-step. The waltz. He knew them all. And he excelled at each. It was amazing. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He was amazing. So very. Every move. Every gesture. Every word. He was handsome. He was sexy. You were beautiful. You, in your Vogue Special Design S-4942, circa 1949. In lilac silk chiffon lined with lilac silk crepe. You made it yourself, you meticulous seamstress you.
The evening was intense. So very. Your emotions gripped you, pushed you to dance at the very perimeter of wild. Your attitude overflowed. And yet. And yet, you don't want to see him again. Even though he was smart. Witty. Dashing. He could own you. Usurp you. Envelop you. Consume you. That is not what you want. It isn't. You want to be in control. You do.
Make this pattern yours. It's available at The Blue Gardenia, where the patterns are counted, the jewelry is sparkling, and domestic shipping is free. (We do ship abroad, happily. At cost. No handling charges. At all. Ever.) And we take American Express, Discover, Mastercard, Paypal and Visa. Let those fingers waltz over. Now. That's an order. It is. Albeit a gentle one.