The Dance (Original Series Part 2)

Your Shining Autumn Ocean Crashing

*So here's the thing...we know how this story ends, sadly. We are getting to the end of the long, sordid tale, but before we reach the conclusion of this rock-and-roll version of a Greek tragedy, let's watch Stevie and Lindsey have some fun and enjoy being in love...

********************

Stevie couldn't believe how different Haight Street looked thirty years later.

Once upon a time, the corner of Haight and Ashbury had been teeming with young people like herself, converging on the street by the hundreds because earlier that year, Scott McKenzie had sung, in a song written by John Phillips of The Mamas & The Papas, that they should come to San Francisco and wear some flowers in their hair. Stevie and Lindsey had taken a break from the Fleetwood Mac bubble and taken a ride through San Francisco to some of the places they used to go to when they were young and in Fritz and denying the feelings they had for each other. Stevie had grimaced at how commercial and trendy The Haight had become, and she'd talked about it for the entire car ride back to their hotel...when they weren't making out in the back of the limo, the partition between them and the driver raised. As Stevie closed her eyes and moaned at the touch of Lindsey's mouth on her neck and his hand cupping her breast, she remembered the limo ride back to her house the night they'd filmed The Dance, and how they had done pretty much everything but actually have sex in the backseat. That seemed like a million years ago now.

"I am going to take you back to the hotel and take off everything you're wearing and touch every inch of your body until you're begging me to be inside you." Lindsey's words were whispered into her cleavage before he began to kiss his way upwards until he returned to her mouth. His hand had crept down between her legs and she whimpered into his mouth, their tongues engaged in battle almost as if they were trying to swallow each other whole. He could feel her getting wetter and wetter against his hand as he moved his fingers just the way he knew she liked it, and when she gave a small cry, he said, "Mmmm I see my dirty girl is back...I missed my dirty girl." He increased the pressure and pace of his fingers then, and he had to use his free hand to cover her mouth when he sensed she was about to cry out. "Oh, so you want the driver to know what we're doing back here, dirty girl?" She shook her head in response, instantly playing their usual game. "Well you can't be making noises like that, baby, if you don't want us to get in trouble back here...Do you want me to stop?" She shook her head again. "You want me to make you come like this?" She nodded, so close to coming now that she was straining not to cry out again against his palm, raising her hips upward to meet his fingers as they moved. He said, "Okay, then, my dirty girl...but no screaming." It was only a few seconds before he felt her come, her desperate whimpers stifled by this hand as she writhed beneath him, and he was reminded of their first-class lounge bathroom incident in 1975, the one they'd laughed about a few weeks ago the night they'd officially decided to be together again. He waited until she lay back in her seat to remove his hand, and he kissed her cheek then and whispered, "That's my sweet girl."

They had not been able to keep their hands off of each other since Uniondale. They had been through many shows since then and had spent each show shooting each other looks onstage that said without words what they intended to do to each other when they got back to the hotel, and when they had been in Cincinnati on October 3 for Lindsey's forty-eighth birthday, Stevie had bet him that she couldn't figure out a way to sneak him forty-eight kisses throughout the show without anyone catching on. Their embraces after "Landslide" were long and filled with obvious passion, and in Portland, Oregon they had been making out so vigorously backstage while Christine played "Songbird" that they'd nearly missed coming back onstage for their bows.

Much later that night, after their show at the Shoreline Amphitheater, they lay together in Stevie's bed at the hotel, Lindsey playing with her hair and Stevie holding his hand to play with his fingers. CNN was playing on the television in the distance on mute but they were not looking at the screen, and it looked as if the segment that was on was about media involvement in the death of Princess Diana two months earlier. Neither of them had said anything in awhile, and Lindsey figured now was as good a time as any to tell Stevie what he had been holding in since their concert in Irvine a few days before.