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"Shall we dance my dear?" he asked with a smile, his hand held out in invitation.Eleanor wanted to speak, but her lips stubbornly refused to obey her. She moved her mouth, but nothing came out. Instead she stared up into the dark eyes and handsome face of her companion. He waited patiently for her response, his mouth curled in amusement.Helplessly Eleanor took his proffered hand and stood shakily. Glancing down at herself she realised in wonderment she was wearing the elegant crimson silk dress she had worn for their famous Valentine's Ball in 1933. Her hand was smooth; the skin milky white and no longer stained with the brown discolouration of age. She reached upwards and touched her face. The wrinkles and lines were gone; her cheeks satin smooth.With a shocked cry she dashed over to the huge gilt mirror hanging above the fire place. Her own reflection stared back at her, the face of a young and vibrant woman again. Her ebony hair hung in glossy waves over her shoulders. The young. ‘I did not lie to you. I told you that I never would. You didn’t ask me if I could see you. I actually tried to tell you that I could see you, but you shushed me and told me to shut up before I could get it out. After that, you were having so much fun that I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. Now, about my last request, temporarily, and only for less that ten seconds, trust me.’ Josh moved his right hand up and repositioned her grip on his throat. He slowly took her fist, and opened her first two fingers, to reposition the thumb. ‘Who taught you this crap?’ he asked. ‘Put your thumb on the outside like this. Now you won’t break it when you hit me, and another thing…’ He gently pulled her fist toward his face, and moistly kissed it before pushing it back into position. ‘Ok. I’m good. You can hit me now.’ Josh said. ‘Kayla, what was that you were saying about love and trust a few minutes ago?’ Rose asked sweetly through the window, ‘It sounded so nice, I thought maybe you could.
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