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The bright lights of the club wash me in a swirl of warm colors that match the uneven twist in my stomach. I rattle ice cubes in my glass.
The dance floor is full and the nearly tables are surrounded. I stand to the side of the dancing groups, deciding where my ambitions lie. It's hard to work up the courage.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Your breath is warm and sweet on my earlobe. The rough tips of your fingers track my elbow. You're in a dark suit and your hair curls to just beneath your collarbones.
My breath hurls into my throat, "Jimmy. I've missed you." You're all aglow with primary colors.
"I've missed you too, but we've only been apart for a day."
I'm whining. "I know, but . . ."
You kiss me to shut my fears away, entwined in a hug of velvet and citrus. Parting, you search me. "You want to leave?"
I bite my lip in anticipation of your next words. "Yeah," I say in a small voice.
"Alright. Let's go."
"But Roy?" You're already helping me through the crowd, your arm linked with mine.
"He can handle himself alright."
I cling closer as we move outside. A deep breath fills my lungs: there's no sting of body odor or masking perfume. Just the greasy burn from the burger joint across the street. I want to shed this pretty coral dress right now, but by the rise of your lips, I can tell you have something else planned.
"I saw this place on our way here. Reminded me of the dance halls from my parents' time," you tell me as you raise your hand to hail an oncoming taxi. Bending down to greet the driver, your hand in mine, you tell him the address and help me into the backseat. I lounge against you in the dark space. Your face is illuminated every few blocks with a halo of gold lamplight.
"You know I like those kinda spots . . ." I remind you with clouded thoughts, dipping my hand into your jacket pocket to toy with the inside stitching.
"Of course. You've those ideas of bygone days."
I'm content to lounge against you, my leg thrown over yours and my head on your shoulder. I think of Paul Anka and smile, reminiscing on those old pictures of you with your short, fluffy hair and the bright shine of your big eyes.
"I like you so much," I tell you. The taxi is pulling us up to the curb and stopping.
"I like you, too," you reply. You don't laugh at me like I imagine other people would, you only reach out your hand for me to grab and lead me from the car.
When we enter the dancehall, I'm surprised to find that we're the youngest people there; all the couples on the floor are twenty years older than us. You take me in your arms anyway.
A live band is playing on the stage: trombonists, trumpeters, a violinist, and a jazz drummer who could be my grandfather.
Their song comes to an end and the audience claps slow and polite. They start another melody, the drummer announcing the title. "This is something you may know," he says, "Begin the Beguine."
"It's a foxtrot," you tell me when your hands reach mine and tug me close. "Are you ready?"
My tight dress says no, but I nod and place my hand on your shoulder.
You're leading, quick and sensual, your thigh brushing mine and your smile gentle as you watch me:
"You're enjoying yourself?"
"I always do when I'm with you."
Your eyes crinkle and you pull me towards you in a spin. My fingers clench on your shoulder. You kiss my jaw at the feeling of my hands on you, then lead me away and across the room.
The song's ending, the crescendo of a trumpet's call slowing the dancers around us. You guide us to the side, by the tables, as the final note rings out. We disconnect and applaud, and I smile to the musicians and you.
You grin. "That was lovely . . . I'll be back, darling." You leave me at one of the chairs and I watch you order something from the bar. Sweat beads at the back of my neck and I laugh low from all the motion.
When you return, you have a milkshake in your hand and two straws. You set it between us and I smile at picture of us like teenagers.
I linger my hand near yours and you grab it, motioning for me to try the shake. It's sweet, a fruity flavor I can't identify, and cools me down from the dancing. We share it, leaning forward to take sips as we watch each other. The band's started a new song and the brassy tones ring out through the hall.
No words between us. There's the unspoken that I always feel for you, vibrant like a sun-speckled ocean and a fire casting moving shadows.
"We should do this again," I say, contemplating the saccharine on my tongue.
You show me your teeth. "Anytime you'll have me."
( For therecordcompany sorry it took me so long! Please send any more requests my way )
