As he lifted his glass, Olivia spotted the gold band on his finger. "That's new..." Elinor's eyes widened as she also noticed the new addition to his attire. Holding his hand up in front of his face, he examined his hand and watched the gold glint in the soft lights of the hall.

"Not exactly. It just confirms that I'm hers...Have been for a long time..." With a faraway look and wistful smile, he gazed in Ayla's direction, and blinking rapidly, looked like he might cry. Leaning back, he took a sip, and closed his eyes. The two ladies looked across at each other, nodded, came to some agreement, and copied him. (...They later said that they both had recognized a man deeply in love...) After a few moments, the three of them were watching the crowd and gossiping like old biddies.

As they were reaching the end of their second sat-out set, Ayla and Lisa approached them. Ayla addressed Olivia, "May I steal my boyfriend from you for a little while?" Lane glanced at Lisa and turned his beautiful smile on his love.

He addressed his two companions, "Will you excuse me, ma'ams? " He stood. "Duty calls." Ayla grinned and smacked his arm. He bowed to the two elder ladies and murmured formally, "Thank you for your good company. I'll never forget how good you've been to me." He took each lady's hand and kissed her fingers before turning on his heal and accompanying Ayla and Lisa to the edge of the dance floor. (Both elder ladies silently wished they were some many years younger.)

Addressing Lisa, he spoke with all sincerity, "Thank you for a most entertaining evening, Lisa. I've never been to such an, uh, exciting party. I appreciate you asking us to attend, and as much as I regret doing so, Ayla and I will be retiring after the next two sets." He beamed a smile at Ayla. "My trials are over, and I finally get to dance with my love." Ayla dropped her eyes and smiled hard as her face warmed.

Impulsively, he hugged Lisa close, and lifting her chin with his fingers, gazed into her eyes and kissed her warmly. (...and a little longer than Ayla thought necessary...) Ayla smiled indulgently and taking his hand, led him to the dance floor. He pulled his jacket off and threw it onto a chair as they stepped out onto the floor.

The opening notes of "Burn" started. Lane spun her away from his body, around, and around, with a firm hand and stopped her spins with a firm grip, holding her hand at both their arm's length. He released her hand and spun about ten consecutive turns himself, until he stopped himself by catching her hand and crossed his ankle with his boot as a toe stop.

"Just showing off, are we?" He grinned, and then assumed a fierce and passionate demeanor. Holding their arms in a very correct "in-hold" position, he dragged her against his chest and backed her across the floor with long strides, their legs slipping between each other's. He used the lyrics as choreography, dipping her on "...fire..." and swirling them in great round strides on "...burn..."

Caressing her skin as he slid his hand under her skirt, he exposed her shapely leg, encased in a silk stocking attached to a lacy garter belt, (...her lone concession to underwear...) and dragged her knee up to his hip. Holding it there in a classic Tango position, he swept her body back and forth, first slowly, then quickly, in a snapping motion. She had one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his forearm through his shirt sleeve, her body gracefully swaying as he swung her. He dropped to one knee, the other leg slightly akimbo, sliding her entire body between his legs, stopping her progress by catching both her hands in his and pulling her back to lie at his feet. He lifted her into his arms in a tight snuggle. While he swung her around one turn in a tight fetal position, she then arched her back, dropped her head until she was looking backwards. She spread her arms and legs straight out and back, with hands and feet in exaggerated "en pointe", as he swung her around in a great arc, her limbs and satin skirts trailing in the air.

He set her on her feet. During a series of jitterbug flicks, with a couple of complicated arm movements, she dropped to be spun a full circle on the floor, held by one hand. (...They were both worried about whether her dress would tolerate that move, but it made it through it without a wardrobe malfunction...) Pulling her up in a flying leap of sorts, he caught her against his chest. Setting her on her feet again, he swept her through huge arcs of waltz turns. Alternating between very fast turns and slow sweeps, he covered the entire floor.

Quick-stepping straight across the floor, they Latin-hustle-kicked in unison, took a few cha-cha promenade steps backwards and then forward, together, threw their heads back and high-kicked straight up. They ended the promenade run on a fast turn to face each other and posed dead still for a half-a-mo.' He then dropped to his knees and swirled her all around himself, holding her hand over his head.

Other dancers got out of their way and finally just stood to watch. Whenever they performed some spectacular move, a smattering of applause followed. Finally, Lane backed himself in short quick steps, holding her by her waist, both her hands holding his upper arms, dragging her half-way across the room, the toes of her fabulous heels barely supporting her. He took a knee with his leg stretched behind him, Paso-like, holding one arm in a "strong" position behind himself. Supporting her head with his free hand, he lowered her onto his knee and draped her across his leg. Her arms lay limp by her sides on the floor. And then, on impulse, he bent and kissed her in a great show of delirious passion. Her arms drifted up to encircle his head, stroke his hair, and hold his lips to hers.

A great burst of applause awoke them to where they were. They lifted their heads, laughed, and disentangled themselves in order to stand. Lane nodded and smiled softly at the group. In an almost whisper, he murmured, "Thanks, guys." Ducking his face, he took Ayla's hand and slipped out onto the terrace, Ayla in tow. She ran back a few steps and grabbed his jacket. Scooting back out on the terrace, she helped him into his jacket, adjusting his collar and lariat while he apologized and explained, "Sweetheart, I didn't plan on being that 'forceful'. It's been, shall we say, a stimulating night, and I got carried away. I only have to survive one more song and then I can take you upstairs and love you 'til neither of us can think anymore."

Ayla caressed his face and kissed him gently until his uncomfortable mood was almost gone. She took him by the hand and led him back inside. He was his adorable, sweet self again, and took her in his arms to dance what would be for them, the last song of the evening. Hearing the first notes, he looked around confusedly and ended up gazing into her loving eyes, remembering that this was her song choice. He felt humbled and flattered and so much in love that it was painful.

Ayla had selected "Halo," telling him whose angel he was. (...He wondered for the hundredth time what he had done to deserve such love...) She moved gently in a hip swiveling Latin rhythm, swishing her skirts back and forth. Lane moved with her, hoping that her body would hide his physical response to her nearness. He pulled her a little closer, and holding her tight, spun them around a couple times. Taking single and then double sidesteps in the same Latin rhythm, he all the while stared into her eyes with genuine longing. She glanced up at him with a secret little smile, knowing what he was telling her. Gazing into each other's eyes, they both acknowledged the very sensual nature of this dance, and how much more sensual it was with each other.

The sweet notes and the beautiful words brought them both to such an emotional state that they lost themselves in each other. She leaned into him, one of her arms around his waist under his jacket, her face buried in his chest. He held her very tightly, and wrapping her other hand in his, tucked it against his heart. He laid his cheek against her brow. Barely swaying, they'd take one step fore and one step back. Lane closed his eyes, a lump welling in his throat. Ayla was just outright crying into his shirt. They slowed even more 'til they were barely swaying.

The beautiful song ended. After a few moments, they realized that they were barely moving at all and were more or less just standing there...in a very loud silence. Lane lifted his eyes and looked over her head. They were standing all alone...in the middle of the dance floor, a hush over the entire crowd. The DJ had even stopped the mix music that blends into the next selection.

Ayla raised her head, blinking her eyes to stem the tears, and looked around the room. She turned around in his arms, hugging his arms tight against her bosom and addressed the room, "...So I love him..." Squeezing her gently, he kissed the top of her head. She flipped her fingers at the DJ. "Carry on, sir..."

They started out of the room. Lane scooped her up and snuggled her against his chest, all but running up the stairs with her tucked in his arms.

They burst into the bedroom, Ayla still cuddled in his arms. Setting her on her stilted heels, he pulled her gown off over her head. She dragged his tuxedo jacket off his arms and began untying his lariat. After removing his own vest, he tried pulling off his boots, not very gracefully, and succeeded in falling to the floor. Laughing, she sat on the floor, placed her feet against his chest and leaned back. His boots popped off, leaving her sprawled on her bottom wearing only a garter belt and hose. He sucked in a noisy breath.

Standing up, to loosen her hair, she reached up and ran her fingers through it to release the curls and such. All Lane noticed were her lifted breasts, quivering with her movement. He stood up, scooped her off the floor and, having stretched his tuxedo pants wa-ay out of shape, threw himself onto the bed, supporting her in his arms to prevent another tumble to the floor.

He lay next to her in only his tuxedo pants. She noticed his sartorial difficulty and reached for his belt and began tugging it out of its loops.

He chuckled, "Déjà vu one more time. When are you going to learn that you can't do it with those little bitty hands?" He helped her until she was able to drag his pants from his hips. She dropped them onto the floor and smiled at his erect manhood.

"Did I cause that?"

"Yes, ma'am.

She reached over and "petted" it, brushing her thumb over the tip. He inhaled sharply. "Uh, he likes that...a little too much." She cocked her head and lifted her brows. She ran her hand down the length of him and wrapped her fingers around him...Another sharp intake of breath... She leaned over him and was about to taste him..."No, Sweetheart...Not that I don't like that, but as you've said to me, 'I need you'...under me, holding me, kissing me..." He was reaching for her hips as he turned on his side to face her. "Let me love you..."

She rolled toward him. Half-closing her eyes, she gazed at his beautiful face through her lashes. Placing her lips on his mouth, she licked at his lips until he opened his mouth and thrust his tongue between her soft lips. Moving slightly over her, he pushed his well-petted shaft into her warm body and drove himself slowly to her depths. She moved against him, trying to match his rhythm as a sweet urgency began growing. He lifted his lips to watch her face as she sought her release, always the most beautiful site he could imagine.

He brushed his lips across hers, his own pleasure/excitement building. She was moving a little more erratically, dragging her fingers through his hair. "Lane," she breathed. "You're so wonderful...It's...I'm..." Her voice tapered off into a breathy sigh, as her bliss rippled through her. He crushed his lips to hers and held himself as still as he could, deep inside her. Exquisite release shook her whole body. Drawing a couple of panted breaths, he dragged her up against his chest, holding her tight, and plunged his tongue into her mouth and held his body hard against her, barely moving, until he felt the pulses of her pleasure wane.

"My beautiful darling..." He kissed her tenderly. A single tear tracked down the side of her face into her hair. (Oh, God, not tears, sweetheart...) He flicked it away with a thumb. He began a gentle series of thrusts just for himself, but felt so guilty that he stopped completely. She looked puzzled and caressed his handsome face. "What is it, darling?"

"I was being selfish."

"Be selfish. Use me. Let me give you something back for being so wonderful to me...I love you. As you asked, 'Love me...'"

"God, Ayla, what did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?...Love you so much..." His need began pulling at him, urging him on. "Please kiss me..." She brushed her lips to his, then more firmly, crushed his lips and teased his mouth open. As her mouth covered his parted lips, he rolled her onto her back and plunged himself deeply into her, and gentling himself, moved carefully a few times until he could no longer hold back. Pleasure burst within him pushing him over the edge. He struggled to continue moving during the aching ecstasy, but it was too much for him to do. Still throbbing, trying to support his weight on his elbows, he crumpled onto her. "Ayla..." After a couple moments to recover himself, he raised up on one elbow and gazed at her amazing face.

She was breathing unevenly, her eyes pleading with him. Totally surprised, he crushed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply and tenderly, pushing his hips against her again, moving into her. Her familiar fluttery tugging pushed at him. Crescindoed fire exploded within her again, and waves of joy and heat rushed through her body. She buried her fingers in his hair, holding his lips against hers, her tongue stroking his. Lane, closing his eyes, held himself still until she shuddered to fulfillment. ("God, she still amazes me...") "Sweetheart..."

He gazed searchingly at her face, as she stroked his hair, his shoulders. "Lane", she breathed as she wound her arms around him and held him as tight as she could. Her small hands caressing him, she kissed him quickly. "How did I survive all these years without you?"

They rolled onto their sides. He pulled her against his chest again and kissed her softly but thoroughly. Holding each other tight, they each fell into dreams, exhausted and sated.