an attempt to get some actual writing on here

Some background here first: this originally appeared in an email last summer to a friend who failed to be online when I was bored one afternoon. It's most emphatically not based on anything. It originally began "You're not here... you're probably off doing something fun..." but I couldn't figure how to make that into a proper beginning taken completely out of context, which this is (hence the cut-off beginning). It's one of the few things I've ever written without an idea when I started where it would go, and I was consciously trying to use short descriptive phrases and avoid verbs wherever possible, and to avoid a narrative arc altogether (no ending. that is not an ending.)... it's pretty different than the way I usually write, and to date one of the only cheesy romance scenes I've ever written, although I'd like to say it's better than some.

.................................................probably some bouncy light jazz in the background... the clink of cocktails... light, flirty laughter and the murmur of conversation... the soft glow of lights in the evening... a cool breeze on the veranda when you step out to look at the stars... a ruggedly handsome dark stranger offers you a light, his voice naturally rough but he speaks softly, so as not to frighten you off... you demur, but let your eyes linger on his chiseled features a little longer than necessary... the lights on the river sparkle and sway as a paddleboat passes in the dark, its splashing wheel all but covering the sound of a raucous swing band inside and the playful shouts of the dancing partygoers... it's a flashy world, in there, full of color and light and sound, but in the end it passes out of hearing, passes into the dark folds of the satin night... a soft breath comes from the other end of the railing, where the dark stranger has lit up a cigarette and now blows a thin stream of silvery smoke out towards the river... the moon is nearly full now, and ringed with a hazy golden crown seen through the thin veil of clouds... the sliding door behind you opens with a 'shunt' and awakens you from your reverie as two giggling lovers spill out onto the veranda, alternately squealing and shushing each other as they settle in to one of the Adirondack chairs and begin making noisy, if not passionate, love... you roll your eyes with distaste and as you turn away you notice the dark stranger looking your way, a slight smile playing on his face... any other night you would give him a cold stare for his effrontery, but tonight you allow yourself to gaze back at him in the same unabashed fashion,wondering what such a character would be doing at this yuppie party anyway... something in his eyes speaks of loneliness, of something deeper than the snappy comebacks and pop culture being tossed around in the lounge... he gives another sort of smile as he looks back out to the lights on the river... after a moment he glances scornfully back at the lovers still smothering each other on the deck furniture, then turns away and steps off the deck towards the dark garden path below... something must betray your regret at his departure, because he pauses and looks back, his face briefly illuminated in the lights from indoors... he beckons you with a tilt of his head, his face confident but his eyes showing guarded hope, then just as quickly turns back, puts his hands in his pockets, and descends the rest of the steps towards the garden... whether the wine, or the night breeze, or just the hope of escaping the squirms and gasps of the couple behind you, you follow, catching the gauzy folds of your dress in your hand as you make your way down the path... he says nothing, but stops to let you catch up... the path is cobblestone, leading into the shadows of the neighboring orchard, where the air smells strongly of invigorating citrus... both of you are silent; there is no need to speak here, in the quiet shadows of the fruit trees... you look surreptitiously up at his face, and are surprised to see lines of sadness across it as he stares out to the riverbank... now all the common sense telling you to return to the brightness and safety of the lounge is quieted by an intense curiosity and compassion... he walks further down the path, where the ground turns sandy and soft, and your trendy heels sink into the soil... hastily you pull them off and carry them in one hand, running a little to catch up with him... in your rush, you trip over a dead shrub, invisible in the darkness, and lose your balance, falling forward onto one hand... you start to pull yourself together and suddenly he is there, concerned at first then smiling at your embarrassed look as he steadies you... his hands are rough, but his touch is gentle... he is giving you that look again, that look of unashamed admiration... you look out to the river again,which is quite close now, washing by in little eddies through the reeds near the beach... its sound is constant, comforting, lulling you to calm, quieting any nagging worries left in your mind...