SFAT The woman

Monday to THursday this week the stories are based on the sketches of like first outlined in Scenes from a Tram Stop
The woman with the ice cream watched the young loved-up couple getting on the tram,  her eyes misting over, thinking of when she was in their place? Would she ever feel like that again? She’d decided to treat herself to one last ice cream of the summer. Since the divorce that was her outlook, she did things because she wanted, not because it was expected. The tattoo, the anklet, the skirt maybe a bit too short for a woman of her age, she didn’t care, it made her feel sexy, she got admiring glances from lads half her age and after the way he’d tried to destroy her she wanted to feel good about herself.

She enjoyed the sun of her face and the taste of chocolate on her lips but neither could settle the butterflies that were flittering around her stomach. Because she wasn’t here waiting for a tram, today she was waiting for what was getting off the tram. She was early, she was hoping he wasn’t early too, she didn’t really want him to see her eating an ice cream. She fiddled with her skirt one last time and threw the end of the cone in the bin. Just in time, a number 22 was pulling in and David was getting off. God he looked young, was she really doing this? He smiled at her, she felt a little weak at the knees seeing that dimple. Yes she was doing this.

She’d met David at her Salsa class, Salsa class at her age? Was she mad? She’d been paired with David as the only two without partners. She’d blushed when she first danced with him and when he’d put his hand on her hip she’d felt a shiver of excitement. No man apart from her ex had touched her like that for at least 17 years and she couldn’t remember the last time her ex had touched her like that either. She liked David, and they got on well but she was sure that he had his eyes on some of the other women in the class.  So when after lesson 3 David had asked if she’d like to meet for a coffee it was a complete surprise. Nevertheless she’d said yes before he’d finished his question. He’d laughed, she’d blushed, they’d arranged a time and a place and that time and place had arrived.

‘Shall we go in here?’ David pointed to the coffee shop next to the tram stop.

Bara’s heart sunk a little, it really was a coffee, she could do with some Dutch courage right now, a swift G and T or at the very least half a litre of wine. But she had to behave so nodded and let David open the door for her.

David was lovely, he was a listener, he asked questions and then let her speak, nodding, and uhuhing, at all the right times. She tried not to give away too much of the pain as she told her story. When he spoke he was modest, witty, interesting and charming.

‘Well I don’t know about you, but I fancy a glass of wine.’ He smiled a naughty little smile like they were fifteen and having a craft underage drink.

‘Oh finally’ she said, her face breaking into a laugh.

‘Let’s go’ David helped her into her coat and then linked arms with her as they headed for the pub.

As she walked she thought of that teenage couple getting on the tram, the hope and expectation, a journey into the unknown. Amazingly she knew exactly how they felt. In the pub they ordered the wine and sat next to each other. After only about 4 sips he turned to look at her; he brushed hair gently from her face, his eyes held hers, words unspoken swam between them. Their faces were as close as possible without actually touching. Her body ached in anticipation.

Their lips touched, gently at first, a warmth sread from her lips through her body like melted chocolate, then she felt his fingers on her cheek and his tongue touch hers and it felt like it was her who was melting.