Home > life, writing > A Time To Fly (10)

A Time To Fly (10)

“What’s this?  Is this how we’re traveling?” she said.  He gestured to the small back seat.  “But I’m wearing a dress!  And I’m forty.”  Vince took Belinda gently by the shoulders, turned her back to the scooter, and pushed her gently onto the seat.  She sat sidesaddle and gathered her skirt around her legs and put her long purse-strap over her head to wear the purse on her hip, pouch-like. Vince slid onto the seat, started the small motor, and drove down the alley while a trail of blue exhaust smoke followed them along the cobblestones.

 Belinda slipped her arms around Vince’s waist and held onto him tightly. When her nose was almost touching his neck, she noticed his fragrance; it was masculine and subtle.  Almost immediately, she began to enjoy the free feeling, the wind in her hair, her skirt flowing back to reveal her long, wonderful legs that drew many hoots and whistles from the young men along the street.  The heat of Vince’s body when she pressed her breasts to his back caused a surge of excitement to course through her.  She tilted her head down and pressed her cheek to his shoulder and just clung to him, feeling his youth and his strength pass from his spirit to hers.  She decided she was going to follow her passions, no matter where they led.

        “Here we are,” Vince said as he drew to a stop in front of the small club.  It was at the end of a blind alley, half a level below the street.  A small neon sign glowed red that reflected on the walls around the narrow alley.  ‘Club Marcello’ it said.  Belinda stopped on the sidewalk to look down through the large front window.  The room was long and narrow.  Young couples occupied many tables and Belinda felt like she was about to be a damper on their evening, like a housemother keeping an eye on the young people.  While they stood there, a group of young people bustled down the shallow stairwell into the club, babbling happily.  “Shall we go in?” Vince said.

 They descended the few steps and entered the club.  The maitre d’ led them to a front table at the foot of the small stage and pulled out a chair for Belinda.  She sat facing the stage and Vince sat beside her.  A ripple of applause went through the room as three musicians entered the stage from the wings.  A young black woman in jeans and T-shirt sat at the electric piano, an older white man picked up the electric guitar and a young white man with a shaved head sat at the drum set.  Clusters of young people entered the club and were quickly shown to their seats.

        “It looks like we’re just in time for the first show,” Vince said.  “Please excuse me for a moment.” He took Belinda’s hand and kissed it gently, which prompted a ripple of applause through the room.  Belinda looked around the room and noticed that people were not staring, but merely looking, with expressions of mild appreciation.  Vincenzo Taglioni went toward a hallway with a washrooms sign on it.  Moments later, the maitre d’ stepped onto the stage and spoke into the microphone that stood on its stand at centre stage.  Belinda was surprised that he spoke English in his introduction.

        “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said.  “Welcome to Club Marcello.  We are pleased once again to present the fine vocal talents of Vincenzo Taglioni.”Belinda was stunned to see Vince walk out on stage as the small club exploded with applause, whistles, and shouts of appreciation.  She sat back, too shocked to think, and just let her eyes drink in his wonderful face with its bright smile.  His broad chest was exposed where he had opened most of the buttons on his white shirt after he left Belinda.  He stood tall and handsome, glowing like a knight in the bright spotlight, and looked down at Belinda who could do nothing but look back up at him.  The feelings of excitement and anticipation coursed through her.  She surprised herself by hoping she would be invited to spend the night with him.  The musicians began to play while Vincenzo stood in the light looking down into Belinda’s eyes.  Then he began to sing.

There comes a time in every life

A time when it’s time to fly.

There comes a lover to fly with

A lover to not pass by.

 Belinda could do little more than sit and look up at Vince while his golden voice caressed her ears with slow, mellow tones.  He looked into the dark around the room, and always his eyes would return to Belinda, seated at his feet.

 The willing heart is filled with love

The willing lover wins love.

Love gives lovers a time to fly

The time to fly should not pass by.

 

Vincenzo took the microphone from its stand and descended the few steps down from the stage.  He took Belinda’s hand while he sang to her, looking deeply into her eyes.  She pulled her eyes away and looked hastily around the room, uncomfortable as the centre of attention.  She imagined that everyone in the room was whispering indignantly about her age and her race, while in fact, every woman in the room envied her and every man envied Vincenzo Taglioni.

 

When life brings you a time to fly

Life brings you a reason why.

More than just a kiss and sigh

Warm love brings a time to fly.

 

Passion makes a time to fly…

 

Passion is the time to fly.

 

Vince signaled the band to continue playing.  He put the microphone down on Belinda’s table and pulled her to her feet.  He took her in his arms and they danced, pressed together, circling in the small space beside their table.  The band concluded the piece, and Vince stepped back to bow graciously to Belinda, who curtsied in return.  The room exploded with applause and cheers.  Vince turned Belinda to face the crowd and he gestured to her.  The cries of admiration increased, and Belinda bowed her head while Vince held her hand and bowed with her.

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