Ella Fitzgerald was singing, ’Every time we say goodbye.’

From the door, Carrie put down the case and looked at him.

“Why that one?”

Paul shrugged, “Alexa’s choice. But so true.” His eyes roamed longingly over her clinging blue dress, fabulous breasts, thighs V-ed.

“You’ll quickly forget me.”

“Forget our searching, exploring mouths. Yours so warm and welcoming. Smoothness of those breasts. Entering you. The places we’ve been. Making love in four capital cities. No forgetting.”

Ella’s song dug deeper under his skin

He took a step towards her.

“Don’t try, Paul.” Holding up a restricting hand, she said, “The passion was good. But, we’ve lost something. You’re seldom here.” There was a sorrowful look in her blue eyes.

“I’ve told you, “ he said plaintively. “Work has been hectic. But we’re through that now. Don’t go.”

“It’s best for both of us,” Carrie told him. Paul was sure he could detect the doubt behind her hard expression.

“Is there someone else?”

Carrie was opening the door as she vehemently responded, “Definitely no to that. It would take someone special.”

“Then why do you have to go?”

Holding the door open Carrie looked despairingly around the hall before she said, “I don’t know. Things aren’t the same.”

“I think I know what we’ve both lost.”

Carrie frowned as she asked, “What?”

Paul was not trying to be clever when he said, “I think you’ll only find out when you’ve gone.”

‘Peter Sarstedt’s voice replaced Ella’s as he sang, ‘Where do you go to, my lovely.’

Paul shook his head. Ironic that Alexa chose that song. He could see where it might lead them. But Carrie had picked up her small case and opened the door, “I’ll get the rest of my things later. Goodbye, Paul.”

Sarstedt hit the line in which he mentioned his lady dancing like Zizi Jeanmaire. A real oldie, that one.

“Yes, that was just like you,” Paul put in quickly. “Your dancing, so lithe, so lissom.”

Halfway out of the door she looked back, half smiled and said, “You were hopeless. One dance a night, with two left feet.”

“What about last year on that Lake Tahoe ferry dinner?”

Carrie looked like she was thinking about it. Then her head nodded, “Oh, yes it was your third malt whiskey before you found any rhythm.”

“And then?

She briefly closed her eyes recalling that time. “We danced until closing, pressed close. Your hardness rubbing my belly and thigh.”

“And that rhythm?”

“Went to bed with us and went on and on. You filled me so. I never wanted it to end.” She was blinking tears away, “Such a good rhythm.”

Her slight smile was a sun shining through her tears, as he moved in close to her.

“I’ve been stupid haven’t I?” she asked

“No, you’ve been worried. About me and my loss of impulse. I think you have helped me find it.” Carrie lifted one leg around him, hooking him closer, letting her skirt ride up. His hardness pressed into her.

An unknown singer began singing, ‘I could have danced all night.’

“Should we go upstairs and change just one word in that song?”

They kissed, and arms wrapped around each other, moved towards the stairs.

“I may just beg for more,” Carrie sang gently.