Fresh Fiction for Friday - Fantastic Fourth Fragment

“Are you surprised?” she asked.

They had arrived at a ballroom this evening as opposed to the normal dance club. “A little,” he admitted.

“Are you pleased?” she checked.

This made him pause. The question did not make sense to him. What difference would his being pleased or not make? Eventually he responded “I am not displeased.”

A smile lay claim to her face. She calculated the double negative to be a positive. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

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Gentle music washed over them as they were directed to their table. There was the occasional look or rushed whisper as they walked. Janie understood all of it without hearing them. ‘Is that?’ ‘It can’t be.’ ‘What is she doing here?’ She didn’t care. Let them wonder. Let them gawk and stare. Tonight was not about them.

Upon reaching the table, Psmith pulled her chair out for her. She smiled at him and accepted this offer. This was good. It all felt so right, so … ladylike.

Psmith stood at her right side, his hands clasped behind his back. After a moment of observing the scene before them, he spoke. “Well now, this is a distinct variation from our normal night out. It is still dancing, just a different sort of dancing.” He stopped speaking. Janie looked up at him with a gentle smile on her face. She did not speak. After a prolonged pause he coughed gently and continued. “I must admit that I am unclear as to how the process functions in this establishment. There may be a dance card required. It may well be that all a gentleman will need to do is approach and ask in order to dance with you. Alternatively, I may need to act as an intermediary. If that is the case, do you see anyone you would like to have approach? The gentleman standing by that pillar on the other side of the room looks nice. Shall I approach him?”

Janie continued to observe him despite the uncomfortable position in which she need to place herself in order to do so. “No thank you,” she stated.

“Does that mean you have someone in mind?”

“Yes.”

“Whom would that be?”

She smiled. “You of course.”

This comment generated a pause in the conversation. Psmith terminated the pause with “Me?” She nodded. “You wish to dance with me?”

“That’s the reason I wanted to come here,” she noted. A thought occurred to her and she quickly added “You can dance, can’t you?”

“I am versed in the terpsichorean arts,” he stated, straightening his stance even further. “It is not a skill I am often called upon to utilize. I am quite out of practice.”

This statement did nothing to perturb her. “That’s okay. I’ve no idea what I’m doing at all so you’re still ahead of me.” She offered her hand. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

He visibly pondered these statements. After this consideration he took her hand. “Perhaps it will be fun at that.” She beamed with joy.

Did some math. Was surprised.

I took a look at the computer mouse that 'Flipper Sr.' displayed to me. It was round, semi-clear, semi-silver and appeared to have eyes imbeded in it. "Looks like a Cybermat," I noted before turning to walk away.

This statement caused him to examine it further. Having apparently come to a mental conclusion about my statement, he chuckled. "I suppose it does." He then extended the chuckle to me. "You're very focused."

We had conversed enough about Doctor Who in the past that I guessed he would get the reference and obviously had. By now I was back in my office, thinking about sitting down. "Yeah, well, I've been swimming in that sea for..." Quickly I did math. I first started watching Doctor Who when I was 8 and now I'm 33 so that makes...

I didn't sit down. "25 years now." Good grief! I have friends younger than that!

This is my silver anniversary with Doctor Who. I'd say I deserve a present but the show's been back on TV for 3 years now and, really, I'll take that. More episodes please! At least another 25 years worth...