The Fisherman's Daughter.

Chapter 7

After class I raced home to change before meeting Layne. I dressed in a short, velvet dress with long sleeves and a high neckline. The dress has been dyed a deep, dark burgundy. I found it at a thrift store by the campus and loved it instantly. It was originally floor length but I shortened it to graze at the top of my thighs.

I kept my make-up minimal with a little mascara but left my lips bare. I brushed my hair and let it fall in loose waves.

I added thick, black tights to keep my legs warm, a pair of heeled boots, and a long leather jacket I had borrowed from my brother Erik's very chic girlfriend Jess.

After dressing, I looked in the mirror and my mother stared back at me. Even though I have my father's coloring, I saw my mother's eyes. A similar pain that has always lurked in the depths of her green eyes was staring back at me. A pain that comes from loving a man that will never truly be yours. My mother has always shared my father with the sea. And I have shared Layne with a similar dark mistress that calls him to the outer depths of turbulent waters.

I shake my head to clear these thoughts and rush from my apartment to grab a cab.

The little jazz club in Ballard is less than five miles from my apartment and I arrive fifteen minutes early.

"Fuck." I say aloud when I realize how early I am. I am so tired of waiting on men and for once I want to be late and make a sexy entrance.

I stand on the curb in front of the club debating whether or not I should go inside. Finally I decide that I will just go in, check out my appearance in the restroom, then wait for him at the bar. I make a mental note to be late next time.

I open the heavy wooden door and step inside the dark club. The sounds of a moody guitar and the smell of old wood fills the small club. I look around to see if by the off chance Layne has arrived before me. As I am scanning the room,  my eyes rest on a figure sitting in a dark, private booth in the very back of the club. Our booth.

My heart begins to pound and my mouth goes dry. Layne has been watching me since I entered the club. He rises from the booth and I feel the earth shift and a gravitational pull pushes me towards him. I guess I must have started walking toward him because suddenly I am standing in front of him and looking into his gray-blue eyes.

He smiles down at me. I smile back at him hesitantly. We haven't said a word to each other yet. He takes a step closer to me and my breath catches in my throat.

He reaches for me and pulls me to him. His hand is on the small of my back. He threads his other hand up into my hair at the nape of my neck then touches his lips softly to mine. I let out a sigh as he places a kiss at the corner of my mouth, and then on my jawline. My knees go weak and I am breathless as he nuzzles my neck. His hand is still on the small of my back, steadying me when he says huskily into my ear, "get in the fucking booth."

I let out a laugh and he smiles at me with that mischievous smile of his I have loved since I first met him. All of the heaviness, fear, and hopelessness I have felt throughout the day instantly dissipates. And as I look into his eyes, I realize that now is finally our time.

He helps me out of my long leather coat and whistles when he sees how short my dress is. I giggle when he takes my hand and twirls me to see my outfit. He shrugs out of his jacket as I slide into the booth first. He tosses our jackets on the seats across from us then sits next to me.

He smiles at me then puts his arm on the back of the booth and leans in to kiss me again. He kisses me softly but I push back greedily, wanting to taste him and feel his tongue. He responds eagerly and deepens the kiss as his hand inches up my thigh. He has me pinned up against the wall of the booth with his hands up my dress and his tongue in my mouth when the waitress approaches to take our drink order.