~x~
"Everyone ready to eat?" Nick asked.
They all nodded and after calling over a waiter, proceeded to listen as he read them their options.
An hour or so later the dishes had been cleared, and they were sitting back contentedly in their chairs waiting for the next part of the evening to begin. Gil's tongue had come unstuck somewhere between the smoked barramundi and his fourth or fifth glass of wine, but now his stomach jumped and lurched uncomfortably at the thought of having to get up and dance with the woman who officially owned him for the night. He knew how to dance - that wasn't the problem. The problem was that little black dress Catherine was almost wearing. It did cover everything, but it also accentuated the fact that all her curves and bits and pieces were most definitely in the right place. He swallowed heavily as the emcee's oration drew to a close and the band started playing. Couples were flocking to the dance floor, but he was stuck in his chair staring at the tablecloth and unable to move.
Sara was the first to make a move. "I believe this dance is mine," she smiled as the music started up.
"I believe this ass is yours," Nick grinned back and stood to hold her chair out for her. "At least for tonight, anyway."
Warrick and Fiona also walked out to the dance floor, leaving Gil and Catherine alone at the table.
"So..." she ventured, "It looks like fun out there."
He finally dragged his eyes from the tablecloth and followed her glance. "If that's your thing, I suppose so."
"You don't have to if you don't want to, Gil," she said with a wan smile. "We can just sit here and talk."
"Talk?"
"Yeah, you know - that thing people do with their mouths."
"Oh?" He smirked and waggled his brow suggestively.
"That other thing people do with their mouths," Catherine laughed.
His laughter mingled with hers and he was pleased that he'd finally found his voice. "Oh, *talk*. Okay, gotcha now."
"I think you need to get your mind out of the gutter," she berated him.
"But I like it down here," he winked at her. "Sure you don't want to join me?"
Catherine raised her glass and took a sip of wine. She was feeling very bold and empowered in her little black dress, and was contemplating doing something that had been in her mind for a long time. "I just might, Gil," she muttered into the glass.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Catherine –"
"What?" she asked innocently.
Gil rolled his eyes. "It's going to be a long night."
"Only as long as you want it to be," she murmured.
Before he could puzzle out the meaning of her words she asked, "So, tell me why dancing isn't your thing."
"I never said it wasn't my thing."
"But you're uncomfortable doing it?"
His eyes flickered to the dancing couples again. "No. Not really."
"Then it's not that you don't want to dance, it's that you don't want to dance with me," Catherine tried to keep the hurt out of her voice, but she didn't really succeed.
"No, Cath, that's not it at all."
"Whatever," she shrugged, and racked her brain to think of any other topic of conversation. "How much did I end up paying for you?"
"Catherine –"
"That much, huh?"
"No...Well, yes, but listen - I don't *not* want to dance with you."
"But you don't exactly want to, either."
"It's not that I - oh for crying out loud." He stood up and held out his hand. "Let's get this settled now, before it goes any further. If my lady will permit…?"
She looked at him standing there impatiently with his arm held out for her and rested her hand gently in his. "You just watch out for my toes," she joked.
He led her to the dance floor and twirled her around before pulling her close and encircling his arm around her waist. "I'll have you know that I'm very light on my feet."
"Okay then, Twinkle Toes, strut your stuff."
TBC
"Everyone ready to eat?" Nick asked.
They all nodded and after calling over a waiter, proceeded to listen as he read them their options.
An hour or so later the dishes had been cleared, and they were sitting back contentedly in their chairs waiting for the next part of the evening to begin. Gil's tongue had come unstuck somewhere between the smoked barramundi and his fourth or fifth glass of wine, but now his stomach jumped and lurched uncomfortably at the thought of having to get up and dance with the woman who officially owned him for the night. He knew how to dance - that wasn't the problem. The problem was that little black dress Catherine was almost wearing. It did cover everything, but it also accentuated the fact that all her curves and bits and pieces were most definitely in the right place. He swallowed heavily as the emcee's oration drew to a close and the band started playing. Couples were flocking to the dance floor, but he was stuck in his chair staring at the tablecloth and unable to move.
Sara was the first to make a move. "I believe this dance is mine," she smiled as the music started up.
"I believe this ass is yours," Nick grinned back and stood to hold her chair out for her. "At least for tonight, anyway."
Warrick and Fiona also walked out to the dance floor, leaving Gil and Catherine alone at the table.
"So..." she ventured, "It looks like fun out there."
He finally dragged his eyes from the tablecloth and followed her glance. "If that's your thing, I suppose so."
"You don't have to if you don't want to, Gil," she said with a wan smile. "We can just sit here and talk."
"Talk?"
"Yeah, you know - that thing people do with their mouths."
"Oh?" He smirked and waggled his brow suggestively.
"That other thing people do with their mouths," Catherine laughed.
His laughter mingled with hers and he was pleased that he'd finally found his voice. "Oh, *talk*. Okay, gotcha now."
"I think you need to get your mind out of the gutter," she berated him.
"But I like it down here," he winked at her. "Sure you don't want to join me?"
Catherine raised her glass and took a sip of wine. She was feeling very bold and empowered in her little black dress, and was contemplating doing something that had been in her mind for a long time. "I just might, Gil," she muttered into the glass.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Catherine –"
"What?" she asked innocently.
Gil rolled his eyes. "It's going to be a long night."
"Only as long as you want it to be," she murmured.
Before he could puzzle out the meaning of her words she asked, "So, tell me why dancing isn't your thing."
"I never said it wasn't my thing."
"But you're uncomfortable doing it?"
His eyes flickered to the dancing couples again. "No. Not really."
"Then it's not that you don't want to dance, it's that you don't want to dance with me," Catherine tried to keep the hurt out of her voice, but she didn't really succeed.
"No, Cath, that's not it at all."
"Whatever," she shrugged, and racked her brain to think of any other topic of conversation. "How much did I end up paying for you?"
"Catherine –"
"That much, huh?"
"No...Well, yes, but listen - I don't *not* want to dance with you."
"But you don't exactly want to, either."
"It's not that I - oh for crying out loud." He stood up and held out his hand. "Let's get this settled now, before it goes any further. If my lady will permit…?"
She looked at him standing there impatiently with his arm held out for her and rested her hand gently in his. "You just watch out for my toes," she joked.
He led her to the dance floor and twirled her around before pulling her close and encircling his arm around her waist. "I'll have you know that I'm very light on my feet."
"Okay then, Twinkle Toes, strut your stuff."
TBC