Page 11 of Night Fever
I don’t have the correct shoes, and we certainly don’t have the right music, but I know that on some deep, primal level, I can do this for a couple of hours without any long-term deleteriouseffects.
“Alright, alright,” he says, jogging over to me and rubbing his hands together. He has a soft, jazzy waltz being pumped into the studio, with its three-three timing less familiar to me than other kinds of music, but the rest of the scene issoveryfamiliar.
I continue my warmup routine at the barre and smile over at him as he gives me an incredulouslook.
“Your dad told me you had some background in dance, but I wasn’t expectingthis.”
“Oh?” I say, feeling my smile melt a bit. “Yeah, I guess you could say I have a background in dance. I don’t know what you were expecting, though. I’m not very good. I guess I used tobe.”
“Well,” he says, coming up behind me and putting his hands on my waist, “you look really good doingit.”
I feel my face flush and my body heat where he’s touching me on my waist. His fingers dig in just a little and I’m instantly transported back to last night when he bent me over that sink in that little dive bar, pushed my legs apart and gave me my very firstexperience.
“Thanks,” I breathe softly, looking over my shoulder athim.
Up close, he is so much more gorgeous than he was from far away. From far away he gives off a confident impression of someone who is silent and a little distant, who takes what he wants and doesn’t give a damn about the consequences. He showed me that much last night at the bar, but up close I can see the soft lines in his face and the jaw that’s made out of stone, and the beard that’s just a shade more silver than his hair is, and those cold, stormy blue eyes I could get lostin.
And I just want him to touch me all over. I don’t care about anything else in this moment. I just want him to move his hands lower and push my yoga pants down and crush his lips to mine like he did last night. And when he takes his hands off the curve of my waist, I feel their absence on me and an erotic flip inside my belly, and a dull, full ache between mylegs.
I feel him all around me as I close my eyes and straighten my legs, relaxing my turned-out toes and putting both hands on thebarre.
“What did you tell your father?” heasks.
What a fantasticquestion.
“I told him the truth,” I shrug. “I told him I felt overwhelmed with emotion and had to take a minute formyself.”
“Okay,” he replies, taking both of my hands and placing them in his. He stretches one out to the side and I instinctively frame my arms in the standard ballroom positioning, looking up at him forapproval.
“Okay,” I repeat his simple word with a small smile. “So are you going to teach me a thing or two, orwhat?”
“Yes,” he replies, “but I think from the way you move, you should be teachingme.”
“Oh?” I say. “How do youmean?”
“You’re clearly a very gifted dancer. The lines your body makes, the way you keep your shoulders down and your chin up. I don’t even have to see you do anything else. I love the way youmove.”
He begins to move me softly to the music, and I respond by matching his movements, allowing him to leadme.
“You’re doing a waltz right now, and you haven’t even had a lesson yet. So you’re already familiar with ballroom, am Iright?”
“Yes,” I say, swallowing thickly, “but my love wasballet.”
“Was?”
I break away from him and pace over to the corner of the room where I have my purse thrown on the floor, and take my water bottleout.
“Hey,” he says, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror as I stand up, “am I going to have to keep running after you for the rest of mylife?”
I feel my body shudder in the most delicious, forbidden way as my pussy clenches up. The air around me gets hot and heavy, and goosebumps spring up on my arms. I suddenly feel cold - so cold, even though my warmup routine always leaves me panting and sweating. Instead, now, as I watch him come up behind me in the mirror, his eyes never leaving mine, I feel so close to him and yet a million miles away at the sametime.
We are locked eye-to-eye, but it’s through the mirror. I feel the distance between us, acutely aware that all I have to do to get out of here is close my eyes and do my breathing exercise, and he’ll just disappear like a gust of steam from a screamingteapot.
Electricity zips up and down my spine as I watch him behind me, grabbing my wrist and spinning mearound,
“I asked you something, baby,” he says, his eyes peering down into mine and then searching my face for a silentanswer.
I am frozen yet again, and I feel my lungs fill with hot, delicious air, and for the first time in a long time, I feel strangely, suddenlyalive.
