Free Dancing in the Dark by Maureen Lee Page A

“ ‘Dancing in the dark . . . ’ C’mon, Flo.” He grabbed her by the waist and twirled her around.
    Flo threw back her head and laughed. “ ‘Dancing in the dark,’ ‘ they sang together.
    They stopped when two men walked past and Flo shivered. “I forgot to bring a cardy.”
    Tommy put his arm around her shoulders. “You don’t feel cold.” He placed his hand on the back of her neck.
    “You feel hot. Your neck’s sweating.”
    She wasn’t sure if she was hot or cold. Her body felt as if it was on fire, yet she shivered again. Tommy’s hand pressed harder on her neck as he began to lead her towards a tree not far away. He pushed her against the broad trunk and took her in his arms. “I’ve been thinking of nothing else but this for days.”
    A train roared past on the furthest side of the park, the engine puffing eerie clouds of smoke. Flo thought about Dad, who’d been knocked down on that very same railway line, but not for long: Tommy’s lips were pressed against hers and she felt as if she was being sucked into a whirlpool. Her head spun and she seemed to be slipping down and down and down. She came to briefly and found herself lying on the damp grass with Tommy bent over her. He’d undone the front of her dress and his lips were seeking her breasts, his tongue tenderly touching her nipples. Flo arched her back and almost screamed because the sensation was so wonderful.
    She knew what was to come, she knew it was a bad thing, but she could no more have stopped him than she could have stopped the sun from rising the next morning.
    Tommy was pushing up her skirt, pulling away her underthings. There was the sound of her stockings tearing and she felt his callused hand between her legs. He was groaning, murmuring over and over, “I love you, Flo,” and she could hear other little breathless cries that she realised came from her own throat. All the while, she was running her fingers through his thick dark curls, kissing his ears, his neck . . .
    He felt so big when he entered her, and it hurt, but the hurt soon faded and turned into something else, something that no words had been invented to describe.
    It all ended in a wild, feverish explosion that left them shaken and exhausted, and with Flo convinced that the only reason she’d been born was to make love with Tommy O’Mara.
    “Jaysus, Flo!” he said hoarsely. “That was the best I’ve ever known.” After a while, he began to pull her clothes back on. “Get dressed, luv, else you’ll catch cold.”
    Flo touched his sensually curved lips with her finger, feeling the love flow from her heart right down her arm.
    “I love you, Tommy.”
    “I love you, girl.”
    There was the faint murmur of voices upstairs: Martha and Sally were awake. Flo leaped out of the chair to take them up a cup of tea. On the way to the back kitchen, she did a pirouette. She’d always been happy, but nowadays she was so happy she could bust—and it had all begun that night in the Mystery when she’d danced in the dark with Tommy.
    She and Sally had a wonderful day in New Brighton.
    They went on every single ride in the fairground, even the children’s ones. Sally complained afterwards she felt quite sick, though it was more likely caused by the fish and chips followed by a giant ice-cream cornet with strawberry topping. She recovered swiftly on the ferry back when they clicked with two sailors who invited them to the pictures. “Why did you turn them down?” she grumbled, on the tram home to Wavertree.
    “I didn’t fancy that Peter,” Flo replied. In fact, both sailors had been quite nice, but she was meeting Tommy at eight o’clock. Even if she wasn’t, she would have felt disloyal going out with another man.
    “I quite fancied Jock.” Her sister sighed. Sally was neither plain nor pretty, a bit like Dad with her neat brown hair and hazel eyes. She hadn’t had a date since the one with Brian Maloney, almost two months ago.
    Flo felt bad about the