He is waiting there for you, you in the sleek '40s gown you made. July 9, 2012 01:44 1 Comment

You lean against the stucco balcony rail. The Pacific breeze nips your shoulders. Dancers glide across the floor as Diana Krall coos:

Everything is made from dreams,

Time is made from honey slow and sweet,

Only the fools know what it means.

You saw him across the dance floor earlier. Alone. You have not seen him. In years. Not since you realized the power he held over you. You ran. To another city. In another country. It was the only way to regain your will.

You want to stare at him. To let your fingers stray across his cheek, his lips, his arms. No. You must stop. You cannot go there. He must not see you. He musn't. You will make yourself small. You will make yourself disappear — but not in his gaze, not in his bed. 

You will focus on the ocean. On the stars. He will not see you. He won't. You will be safe. Focus. Imagine yourself invisible. Ocean. Stars. Breeze caressing — stop. That is not the word . . .

A hand strokes your arm from your silk velvet shoulder strap down to your wrist. Captures your hand.

Diana purrs:

My will has disappeared.

Now my confusions oh so clear.

Temptation, temptation, temptation

I can't resist.

Your fingers reach to draw his lips close. His arms enclose you, only the velvet of your Vogue Special Design S-4265 lies between his hand, your waist, your skin.  You yearn. For him. No one else. You cannot resist.

Doris Day's voice envelops you, cloaks the evening in seduction:

Be mine, be mine tonight

Whisper love words oh so tender

Give your kisses in sweet surrender

Darn. You should have run a million miles. You should have. But. It wouldn't have been far enough.

And, of course, this beautiful and rare pattern can be found at The  Blue Gardenia, where the patterns are counted, the jewelry is sparkling, and domestic shipping is free. (And, yes, we do ship abroad, but there is a fee. There is. But just what it costs us. No handling charges. Ever.)