Pas de Deux
It started very innocently, accidentally.
She made tea. When she brought his mug over to his desk and sat it down, the smallest finger of her hand grazed the back of his hand. A small tingle, almost like an electrical spark, passed between them. It was so brief that she did not even have time to react before it was over. Odd, she thought.
He stood up from his desk, picked up the pile of student PADDs that he wished her to grade next, and carried them over to set them on her desk. As he was straightening up, the back of his hand brushed against her arm.
****
It slowly developed into something not quite accidental, not quite innocent.
They had finished their suus mahna session and were standing facing one another, perhaps a bit too close. When they made their low bows to each other, their foreheads barely grazed, only for a brief second. They did not acknowledge it, nor the tingling which passed between them.
It was his turn to make the tea. When he set her mug upon her desk, he leaned over just a fraction too much, and his chest grazed her back, only for a brief moment.
They were meditating. As she unfolded herself from the floor at the end, her knee gently tapped against his. Only for a second.
***
Somehow it became something more, something to be anticipated, more than accidental, definitely no longer innocent.
She finished her last lap, lifting her head from the water, she placed her hands on the lip of the pool. She felt them clasped in two much warmer hands that easily lifted her from the water to stand on the edge of pool, facing him. Knowing that he would not do such a thing if there were anyone else at all in the pool room, she brought his hands towards her face and brushed her lips lightly across his knuckles, only for the briefest of seconds. Then she dropped his hands and went to dry off. He stood there, gazing at his hands for longer than seemed acceptable.
He came into the office, wet from the soft rain falling outside. He seated himself at his desk, out of sorts from the damp. She came up behind him and began to rub his hair with the small towel she kept to dry the cups after she washed them. He held his breath in astonishment, but did not berate her. The tips of her fingers brushed against the edges of his ears, causing shivers of something to run down his spine.
***
Eventually it became almost a game that they played, expected and relished.
She came into the office at a run once again, obviously without her breakfast. She sat down quickly and began to work on the stack of PADDs on her desk. He crossed to the mini-replicator and dialed her a carton of yoghurt. He retrieved the spoon from the drawer beneath and carried both over to her. As he straightened up from setting them beside her, his hand brushed her arm from wrist to shoulder. She shivered, not she did not say anything.
He was chopping vegetables in the kitchen when she came in. She crossed the room. She had a small bag with her. "Ice cream" she said as she leaned against him to open the fridge. He felt her slender body pressed against him and his whole body tingled from the contact, but he did not acknowledge it.
***
There came a time when they could no longer evade the issue. When both could stand it no longer. When the touching became deliberate. It was quite wonderful.