Just One Look
By Valma
Part 4: We Should Have Danced All Night
Daphne's Diary

Dear Diary:

Joe left yesterday to go on a job in Bellingham for the next three weeks. I'll miss him but I understand that in his line of work it is often necessary to travel. Perhaps while he's gone I'll buy some sexy new lingerie --- Joe likes it when I wear something hot when we make love. Things are rolling along just fine between the two of us, although I wished we talked more. He's great in bed and a kind and thoughtful person to be around, but we don't have much to say to each other sometimes. Why just the other day when Dr. Crane went with me on a walk with Eddie, he said that communication was the cornerstone of a good relationship. He's very smart, so maybe that is something Joe and I can work on.

Tah-tah - got to run Diary!

* * * * * * *
Dear Diary:

I just found out that Dr. Crane is going to the East Coast for the next nine days to spend some time with his son. That should make things a bit easier for me. Not that Frasier is that horrible or anything like that, but he is the "boss" and sometimes his exacting standards about his precious African artifacts can be a bit much. With Joe gone that will make my life pretty quiet for the next little while - just Mr. Crane and me in the apartment for the week and no one to go out with either. Well, I am sure the other Dr. Crane will be about to visit. He usually pops in on a regular basis now, especially since he and his wife have separated. I hope he does - no one else seems to have the patience that he does to listen to my stories about my various family members. Mr. Crane just seems to get bored after about the first ten minutes and the other Dr. Crane just rolls his eyes the minute I start up. But Dr. Crane seems to really enjoy my tales. Sometimes he's the one that gets me going - asking me the latest family news from England. Well, I should get going to the shops, if we are going to have dinner tonight, so I got to run!

Tah-tah for now!

* * * * * * *
My Journey Through Life - Niles Crane
Agony and ecstasy.

Rhapsody and rejection.

That's all that's left of me, after tonight. And Daphne --- Daphne is the unwitting wellspring of both of these emotions.

That's the great paradox of my so-called life. She is the reason I feel alive at all really, that I cherish even one moment of my miserable mortal existence. At the same time, she is also the source of my worst felt anguish, the root of such unrequited cravings and feelings of inadequacy that I can barely stand to look at myself in the mirror some days.

But just one kind word of sympathy or smile out of her, can send my heart into a kind of delight that is almost breathtaking in its intensity. Just one look in my direction, one fortuitous glance from her, is enough to make me giddy for days on end. You might judge me to be of feeble character because of these admittances, but the true power of her intoxicating beauty, in spirit and in body, is impossible to register on this page in printed words. So, what was I to do, faced with the omnipotence of her affect on me and when, after suffering repeated humiliation at the hands of Maris, she offered to help me regain some semblance of self-respect and confidence? Of course I said yes to her invitation of kindness.

Besides it all started out innocently enough. All sorts of debacles often do.

I had come over to the apartment to keep Dad company while Frasier was away on vacation with Freddie, and yes, admittedly, to complain about the fact that Maris seemed to be flaunting her latest inamorato in the society pages of the daily paper every chance she got. That day it was Pierson Broadwater, but he was just one of many. It was like she was going out of her way to personally demonstrate to me in a very public way, that not only would our separation not put a crimp in her social calendar, but also that the sum total of my worth to her was negligible at best. With every new picture of her clinging to some paramour's beefy arm, or latest snippet of cruel gossip that landed conveniently at my doorstep, my melancholy greatened. Each time I encountered someone from the upper echelons of Seattle's aristocracy, they pointedly reminded me that Maris was "doing just fine and having the time of her life." Then they'd give me a forlorn, faux-compassionate look and ask how I was "managing". Poor Niles! Poor, lonely, devastated Niles, the Quasimodo of the Emerald City's social scene, discarded like an old Playbill program from last year's theater season.

Well, the cumulative effect of this campaign by Maris and her minions was that I eventually became buried in a wretched quagmire of despondency.

Funny enough, it was Dad who inspired me to "screw my courage to the sticking place" and ask a certain Marjorie Nash to accompany me to the next scheduled event of the season - the glamorous "Snow Ball" dance.

I know what you must be thinking --- why didn't I solicit Daphne as an escort, since she stirred such passions in me?

One word - Joe. Enough said.

At any rate, there I was, awash in a flood of self-congratulatory swaggering over my new found assertiveness, when Dad deflated my ego in an instant with a reminder that I didn't know the first thing about dancing. Since that seemed to be an absolute requirement of an event of this sort, I naturally was thrown into a state of panic with this realization.

Then, like an answer to my desperate worries, Daphne proposed that if I was lacking in the skills of rhythmic mobility, then she would willingly be my teacher to save my date with the notorious heiress.

I was in a pure state of rapture for the next few hours. There I was, actually holding Daphne in my arms, feeling the weight of her body pressed up against mine, as I was enveloped by her fragrant aura. Never before had I been so physically close to her for such a sustained amount of time! Of course, she exuded all sorts of warm affability, but never once stepped over the bounds of friendship into impropriety. And neither did I really - except within the confines of my own mind.

That was all right. It was a harmless fantasy. I knew that she and I were not fated to anything more than camaraderie that night. But I reveled in it all the same. It was just that --- well to be truthful, save Daphne, whom else did I have in my life to stimulate my libido during these dark days of abandonment? Maris, the only woman I have ever been remotely intimate with, was certainly not available. She was too busy wagging a vengeful war on me, since I had the audacity to stand up to her. I know it sounds pitiful, almost ludicrous, that I would have to resort to flights of romantic fancy with Daphne, a woman who would never return my affections, to satisfy my carnal urges. But such was the condition of my life. I told you it was miserable.

And about to get worse.

When my date suddenly cancelled, I knew I should have informed Daphne that the dance lessons were over and just gone off and had a cold shower, but I couldn't. I kept living in my illusion --- Daphne and I were so good together. I felt so relaxed with her. She seemed so tolerant of me. We danced and talked and laughed. She was patient and attentive and sooooo enchanting. I --- I was mesmerized by all her charms. We gave each other little pet names and shared in-jokes that just the two of us understood. Plain and simple - I just didn't want it to end. It was the only gratification I had in the dull numbness that was my reality.

Dad was disgusted when he accidentally found out last Friday at Nervosa what was going on. He gave me the standard lecture about how this could get away on me and I might injure the possibility of a genuine friendship developing between the two of us. At first I put up a shallow attempt to discourage her from continuing, but when she insisted on going with me to the dance in Marjorie's place, I simply shunted aside any apprehensions and let my erogenous reveries overrule my powers of rationalism.

To her it was just a chance to dress up and go out to a fancy ball with a friend to restore his sagging spirits. To me it was the impossible dream come true. As I drove to pick her up on Saturday, I convinced myself that I could keep a lid on my feelings and then neither one of us would get hurt. But I couldn't possibly let this opportunity slip away - I was going out on a date with Daphne! In the back of my head I could hear tiny voices questioning as to whether this was the wisest coarse of action, but the minute I saw her, I pushed those whispers of hesitation into a mental strongbox and threw away the key. There she was, in a brilliant scarlet dress, her long flowing mane of hair falling over her bare, pearly white shoulders and a sparkle in her eyes that telegraphed her unbridled enthusiasm for whatever adventures the night would bring.

It's strange how the luxury of reflection allows someone to look back and compartmentalize the events that followed.

Agony and ecstasy, rhapsody and rejection - two separate and distinct worlds that I lived through that night.

First, let me rhapsodize about the ecstasy ---

Daphne was everything I imagined - vivacious, stunningly beautiful, gracious and unselfish in her attention to me, someone that was simply delighted to be included in this grand soiree. She allowed me to parade her shamelessly around the ballroom, smugly showing her off like a prized possession. And what a resplendent display she made! She cavorted and whirled on the dance floor with me by her side, in a blaze of sanguine silk. She wantonly flirted with me, until the mouths of my detractors were suitably left gaping in astonishment. My beatitude seemed boundless.

But that's where the agony comes in. That's when things began to fall apart. I certainly didn't restrain myself, or keep my feelings "corked", as Dad would have said. In a scene that I will live over and over in my mind's eye, at the climax of a blood-pounding tango, I ceded to my passions and blurted out her that I adored her. It is a particularly cruel irony that she mistook my earnest divulgence as part of our little counterfeit coquetry and decided to play along with the supposed charade. We ended the dance with a long, deep kiss and I knew I would never be the same again. I felt as if I had experienced something divine - a true epiphany.

Of course I thought her ardent response was genuine and for one ephemeral moment I believed that I had truly been reborn with the touch of her lips against mine. My life suddenly had meaning. I felt such a rush of ebullience, that all the misery and degradation that Maris had inflicted on me, all my insecurities and fears, all the loneliness that I had endured over the years, just melted away in that brief and shining moment. And that's what makes the pain that I now endure all the more crushing. The dizzying loftiness, to which my euphoria carried me, essentially guaranteed that when reality struck, and her imminent rejection of me as a possible suitor came, the descent would be grievously hard and fast.

And it was.

"We fooled everyone, didn't we?"

Those words corkscrewed into my heart and pulled out my very soul.

We certainly did - especially me. But I know that was because I wanted to be tricked - I let myself hear her words and willingly put my own spin on their meaning.

She was just acting - I wasn't. But I had to feign as if I was, once I realised the truth of her feelings. It was my only recourse. If I had persisted and reaffirmed my adulation of her, she still would have declined my overtures. And then we would have been left with nothing except that awkwardness that Dad had warned me about earlier. In a cold, sobering instant, I knew that for sure. Never once had she ever indicated that I was the type of man she would be interested in as a lover. I was merely a male version of a "girlfriend" in her eyes. All the beaus she talked about - past, present and hoped for in the future, were virile, burly types, rugged monuments to brawn and bravado. Joe was obviously the archetype of her ideal man - long on masculinity and pulchritude, short on erudition and sophistication. I often heard a tone of incredulousness in her voice, when anyone suggested that maybe she should go for someone more refined and cultured for a change. What chance did I ever have?

None apparently.

And so I have decided to redouble my efforts to mend my marriage with Maris.

When I reflect on it honestly, if I would have made more of an exertion to seek a solution over the past few months, rather than wasting so much energy on whining about my problems with Maris, there might have been some progress with our troubles. Upon reflection I can see my culpability in this stalemate that we currently find ourselves in.

Perhaps I can convince her to come with me and get some outside counseling.

There must be some part of her that still cares for me. Maybe some skilled therapist can tap into those feelings and help us renew the commitment we once had for each other. It's worth a try at least.

I've come to understand after what transpired on the dance floor tonight, that even a defective "real" relationship is better than a one-sided illusory one. It's all I have left - except, luckily, my friendship with Daphne. That is real. If I ever lost that --- I don't know what I would do. But, right now I need something more. I just want to feel loved, honestly loved, by someone - that's all.

Adieu.

* * * * * * * * *
Daphne's Diary
Dear Diary:

What a week it turned out to be! Not quiet at all really. First - the younger Dr. Crane - Niles, needed someone to teach him how to dance so he could go to a fancy reception and of course I said yes. What's the use of having a brother who was a ballroom dancer if I couldn't put all those hours of being tutored by him to good use to help out a dear, sweet friend? We had great fun all week prancing up a storm to all sorts of tunes. It turns out all he needed were a few lessons and before long he was hoofing it with the best of them!

But that was just the beginning!

When his date cancelled I talked him into letting me come along to the ball in her place. I know it was a bit forward of me and I guess it might be looked upon as taking advantage of his situation, but Joe would never been able to take me to something like that and I was just curious as to what it would be like. Dr. Crane has always been a perfect gentleman with me, so I wasn't worried about anything improper happening. He knew it wasn't a real date or anything like that - just two friends getting together really.

Besides, there's another reason that I felt like I should go with him. It's a bit complicated but I'll try to explain. It has to do with him splitting from his wife. He doesn't seem to be handling it too well. She seems to me to be hell-bent on making him as miserable as possible and is succeeding quite nicely, thank you! I had always suspected right from the beginning, when I first met her, that she was a very difficult sort, but now I think she is --- well, quite wicked, truth be told. It's like she cast a spell on Dr. Crane to get him to love her all those many years ago and he can't yet fully break the hex she has on him, even though they are officially separated. She knows the right buttons to press to send him into a tailspin of gloomy despair and she has been pushing all of them ever since he left her. But I also just found out that she's been like that right from day one with him. Over the past few months, after noticing that every time he came over he just moped about in a black depression, I cautiously broached the subject with Mr. Crane. Well, he told me stories about her past behavior that would curl your hair! I always knew that Mr. Crane couldn't stand her, but after hearing about the way she has treated poor Dr. Crane and the rest of the family and seeing her in action, I actually started to resent every time her name was mentioned.

Mr. Crane told me that when he was shot, Mrs. Crane refused to call on him in the hospital and even tried to get Dr. Crane to cut back on his visits. He could never prove anything, but Mr. Crane said that it was sure bet that every time Dr. Crane came to see him, she would phone him with some trumped up emergency, demanding that he return home. Of course this put Dr. Crane in a very difficult position, having to chose between his wife and his injured father. If he delayed leaving, even for a few minutes, she would contact him again, and resort to hysterics to get what she wanted. Now, I know the brothers haven't always been on the best of terms with their father, and it isn't really my place to pass judgement on anyone, but I can only imagine how antics like this would drive an even larger wedge between Mr. Crane and his son. It's such a shame.

But it wasn't just Mr. Crane's stories that had me convinced that she was someone quite nasty. I also knew this from first hand experience from whenever she made a rare guest appearance to the apartment. She'd sit throughout dinner, silently eyeing up everyone, waiting like a hawk to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. When she did finally speak her conversations were filled of unkind, frosty remarks, mostly directed towards people whom she considered beneath her social standing. Included in this rather large group, surprisingly enough was her own husband, Dr. Crane. Every so often she would pointedly remind him that if it weren't for her money he'd still be in "some grubby little hospital, more in likely cleaning bedpans". It must have been so embarrassing for him to hear this dribble. He should have just told her off, but true to his gentle nature, he never returned her volley and would just sit there, absorbing her cruelties like one of those beat up punching bags in a gym.

The only time I saw him mutiny at all was when a particularly barbed comment was aimed at me once. Usually she just ignored me, like I was part of the furniture, but that night she was in an exceptionally foul mood. She started to fuss about the way I was serving the tea, saying that since I was English it might be expected that I could at least be civilized enough to know how to pour a decent cup. Well, that seemed to send Dr. Crane into a right tizzy! I suspect his innate sense of fairplay kicked in and it just upset him that she would attack someone who was only a powerless employee. Mr. Crane had told me later that Dr. Crane often interceded on behalf of his own house staff when there were problems with Mrs. Crane. Of course, he didn't dare chastise "Her Majesty" openly, but I could tell he was just beside himself. His eye grew wide and he started to huff and puff like he had running a twelve-mile race. He began to fidget so bad that I thought his trousers were on fire! Knowing my place, I didn't say a word, but managed to flounce off to the kitchen with enough aplomb, that I think she knew that I was miffed. She insisted on leaving shortly after that, but before they went, Dr. Crane made some feeble excuse to come into the kitchen and apologize to me for her behavior. He actually had tears in his eyes. I told him not to worry and that we all had our bad days, so Mrs. Crane was allowed one as well. That was said entirely for his benefit - not hers! If I had appeared upset at what she had said, it would have troubled him even more and I didn't want him suffering for her wrong. So I just let him think that I wasn't hurt by what she had done. He still insisted on making it up to me somehow. As he spoke, he reached out and clasped my hand to make his point. I couldn't help but notice that his hands were trembling! I assured him that wasn't necessary, but the next day he sent a lovely bouquet of flowers to me anyway.

That was only two weeks before he left her.

And now here he was, in dire need of someone to help him show the world that he wasn't just a spineless sap waiting for her to take him back. He was always so supportive of me when I was feeling the least bit blue, now it was my turn to step up and be there for him! That's what being a friend is all about, isn't it? If I hadn't insisted on him taking me to the "Snow Ball" I know he would have called the whole thing off and spent the night alone, just like Mrs. Crane would have wanted him to. And he would have opened himself up to more idle gossip about how much of a sadsack he was, which naturally would have made its way back to Mrs. Crane and proven her point. I just couldn't let that happen to him!

So I convinced him that I would love a night out and it was a good thing I did. We weren't at the dance a good ten minutes and I overheard a couple hoity-toits giving Dr. Crane the gears about how his wife was enjoying herself so. He put up a brave front, but I could tell he was really smarting from their comments. I decided right then and there, that I should put on a show for all of those snooty so-called friends of his. I would be his adoring female companion for the evening and make him the envy of man there! Let them take that back to his witch of a wife!

What a time we had! He was so gallant! We danced like two people possessed. The orchestra played, the champagne flowed - I felt like I was Cinderella! And Dr. Crane performed like the perfect Prince Charming that night. I was so proud of him! You should have seen the mouths of the gossipy onlookers as we twirled around the floor. It was glorious! The crowning touch was when we danced the tango. The rest of the revelers just melted away to the sidelines, leaving the two of us in the spotlight. All eyes were on Niles and me as we whirled and spun through the passionate steps of the dance. I have to admit that I let myself get a bit carried away, but it was so easy - the throbbing music, the closeness of such a graceful companion, the excitement of being looked at by so many eyes and knowing that I was in a knock-out of a dress. I played the part of the alluring love goddess to the hilt. He was delightfully responsive to our little fake flirtation. I was sure I heard a collective gasp from the crowd, when we ended our dance in a sexy kiss and glided off the floor in each other's arms. That showed them!

I'm so glad we went to the ball together! Dr. Crane needed a boost to his self- confidence; I had the time of my life! It all worked out perfectly!

You want to know a secret? I really enjoyed Dr. Crane's kiss. He doesn't look like the type to be a great smacker, but surprisingly he is. His lips are really soft and he smells wonderfully yummy when you are in close like that, as well. He left me quite breathless, actually. Of course, it was all for show and didn't mean anything really, so I'll just file that bit of information in my mind's "odds'n ends" box.

Got to get some sleep!

Tah-tah for now Diary!

Stay tuned for Part 5 (to be continued)