It's kind of a long one, but I wanted to keep it all in one chapter. A little more MarOC than in the previous chapters. Hope you like!
Chapter 4: A Black Tie Affair
Mark stood in the cold air on the sidewalk in front of Type A. He looked at the faced surrounding his, in search of Nannette's. He felt like a fool dressed the way he was: a black suit and tie, over a white button-up shirt. But, he seemed to fit in with New Your City's finest.
He almost didn't come, for one reason or another, but Roger made him come. "If you make me go places, I'll make you go places," his best friend had told him. It was true; he had talked Roger into attending a few Life Support meetings. "It'll do you good," he had told his infected friend, who told him the same thing now.
Mark looked around once more, and looked at his watch. 8:12. I knew I shouldn't have come, he though. He turned to leave, and bumped into a woman.
"Oh, excuse me," he said, "I just—Nannette?"
Nannette stood before him in a floor-length red gown. Her hair was down, in perfect little ringlets, framing her face. She caught his stare and blushed.
"You look…." Mark didn't have a word to express how amazing she looked, "Wow!"
"You clean up nicely yourself," she said, flicking his tie.
"Well, Roger told me that a scarf would be inappropriate," he said, half-joking.
She smiled, and nodded towards the tall building. "Shall we go in?" she asked.
He offered her his arm and said, "We shall."
The inside of Type A was a large room, with a staircase in the center leading to a second and third floor. The walls were lined with paintings, and sculptures filled the rooms.
"Wow," he couldn't help but admire the art in the room, and the people looking at it.
"Lovely place, isn't it?" Nannette asked.
"Yes," he looked down at her (though with her heels, he didn't have to look down far), "Can we look at them?"
"The art? Of course! Have you never been to an opening before?" she laughed.
He looked down, feeling ashamed. "Just at the Scarsdale JCC," he said.
"Good," she replied, "Because I'm showing a Scarsdale-esq painting."
They walked around the room, looking at painting after painting. When they got to one specific painting, he was in awe.
Standing in front of him was a paining of a large room full of people. The people were in pairs and all in back. All, except for one couple in the center, where the woman was in red. They seemed to be in various stages of dancing the tango.
"Do you like it?" Nannette asked, seeing Mark's expression.
"It's…Oh my God," he turned to her excitedly, "You painted this?"
She nodded, loving his child-like enthusiasm.
"This is…amazing!"
"Thanks," she said sheepishly. She looked back up at him. "You're the one to thank, though. When we took out lessons, back at the Community Center, I knew that you hated it. But I was so grateful that you stuck with me, and was so serious about it. The way that you stared into my eyes as you concentrated on your dance," she blushed, and looked down, "you made me feel like a lady in red."
Her head still down, she looked up him, searching his face for a response.
"I wasn't only concentrated on the steps," he admitted. He placed is finger on her chin to life her head. His lips met hers, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. His tongue felt its way around the inside of her mouth, and she let her tongue meet his.
When the parted, the kept their foreheads together, staring into each other's eyes.
"Wow," Nanette whispered, as Mark stroked her cheek.
"Yeah," he agreed, "wow."
"This is a good one!" a voice said from behind them, reminding the two of where they were. They giggled as they moved out of the way, and looked at who the fan could be.
"Maureen?" Mark heard himself ask. Hid ex-girlfriend turned at him, and grinned.
"Mark!" she shouted with glee. "Pookie," she said to someone behind her, "look who it is!"
Joanne stepped forward, and greeted the two.
"Uh, Maureen, Joanne," Mark said, though he was still awestruck, "This is Nannette Himmlefarb. Nannette, this is Maureen and Joanne, some friends of mine."
Joanne looked at her with a furrowed brow, and looked back at Mark. Then from Mark to Nannette again. "The rabbi's daughter?" she asked.
Nannette's eyes went wide, and she said, "Yes, how did you know?" then she realized who she was talking to. She looked at mark, and said, "This is who you tangoed with?"
He grinned, and nodded.
"What's going on?" Maureen wanted to know, "Who tangoed?"
"Oh, Mark and I did the other day," her lover explained, "long story."
"Believe me," Nanette added, "it is!"
"So," Mark said, after a pause, "what are you doing here?"
"Oh," Joanne said, "I have a client who's showing tonight. What about you two?
"I'm showing, also," Nannette explained. She motioned to the painting, "This is mine."
"Very nice," Joanne admired, "We may just have to buy a piece of your for home."
"Well," Marks aid, cutting in, "It was nice to see you guys. But we have to go. Over here." He pulled Nannette away by the arm, weaving through the crowd.
"Where are we going?" she asked, over her own laughter.
"Away," he called.
They stopped in a small, empty room lined with painting of bicycles and umbrellas. A sculpture of a large tree stood in the center of the floor.
"That was awkward," Mark exasperated.
"Why?" Nannette asked.
"Because," he tried to explain, "it's Maureen. It's usually awkward."
"Ok," she agreed, not really knowing why. After a beat, she asked, "Now, where were we?"
He pulled her close to him, and leaned down. "Right here," he whispered, and kissed her again.