The affair commenced in public during a dance set to a Latin rhythm.
His stance was stoic. If not for the movements of his arms and legs you would think him still. She was fluid, flowing naturally in the direction of his lead. They fit perfectly and when her thighs wrapped his during steps, it was nothing less than a fiery intensity.
He danced by following the old ways and made sure to showcase her with every wave and placement of his hands as if a magician wielding magic she would retreat, spin , kick and return to a perfect fit. Every man would want her and he was no exception.
In her mind, her hands felt cold. She feared he would think her heart dead of want and passion. But between her thighs, a different story had begun to unravel. Perhaps, he felt that heat. Perhaps, he already knew.
All of her need pulsated with an unspeakable intensity. One only had to place their ears upon her savage heart; to place their palms over her unsteady chest to know her core hungered for him.
Beneath the lights; the steady flashing of the reds and blues on the dance floor; she would softly, begrudgingly lift her head off of his shoulders. Slowly, she would unhinge her long hair off his scented linen shirt, off his warmth when the tempo called for her body to be held apart from his. She was intoxicated by his strength, and how that made her feel strangely fulfilled without ever having languished on a bed with him hours…hours after.
In that darkness, she sought for the rapture in his eyes to speak to her. The stumbling eyes always confess what cannot be said so easily; what should not be said, and what we try to avoid.
A body can sway when dressed in silk, as her’s did that night; and spin, as freely as her’s did under his precise control…a heart can race for many reasons; but the mirrors of the soul will always reveal truth without language…of how desires quietly accumulate, brew, and overflow in the cauldron of each man’s heart.
She let him move her. She allowed him to lead, to pace her feet and arms, and to breathe for them when she could not. She would feel strong, free, and wanted in his embrace. The blaring music, and crowd around her faded. She had begun to drown, and no one else mattered. If he could only look towards her eyes; how the brown in them glint ruby and gold in the dark. He would know…
This dance was only the prelude.
I want to thank Wolfie/Desayunogratis for writing this beautiful piece with me.