Miss Davis || m.m. au

4

Pulling up to the unfamiliar address, I jerked the keys from the ignition. My salsa with Maks was tomorrow. Despite having nearly three weeks to perfect it, no matter how long I practiced, the choreography just wasn't sitting with me. After telling him my problem, Maks offered me a house call. Hello, Meryl," the sides of his eyes crinkled with his smile as he opened the victorian door, granting me entrance. Returning his smile with a smaller version of my own, I stepped into the threshold. The house was reasonably big, I assumed his parents must be well off. While I marveled at the high ceilings and decorated banisters, Maks lead me up the stairs. Pausing to open the beautiful double doors to an unknown chambers, he revealed an empty room with wooden floors and a mirror that stretched from one end of the back wall to the other. "Welcome to the dancing room," Maks said proudly, stretching out his arms, grinning widely.

I looked questioningly at him, "You have a dance room in your house?

He shrugged. "Well, we are a dancing family." I nodded, impressed. Maks seemed like such an ordinary guy, but his house, his belongings, his status on and off the dancefloor said otherwise. He was extraordinary, and I felt a bit intimidated by it. Setting my bag by the small window, I observed the scenery it held just behind its thin glass. The view of the backyard so still, almost as if it was a picture. Maks clapped his hands together, shaking me out of my thoughts, and said, "Let's practice." About to start, he snapped his fingers, "I almost forgot," and proceeded to leave the room. It only took him a metaphorical second before he was back, with a box in his hands. "Now you won't have to borrow Erin's spares. For you, Miss Davis," he teased, calling me the name he'd grown accustomed to saying, my unofficial nickname. In the box was a pair of golden latin dance shoes. My hand reached out hesitantly to touch the gorgeous shoes, afraid once I did, Maks would yank the box back and say he had been kidding.

"Oh my god," I spoke, in awe. "They're amazing." I turned one shoe in my hand, burning the image into my mind: the intricate design, the elegance, the lightness in weight. Coming to my senses, I looked up from my long gaze at the dancewear. I couldn't let him buy me such gifts of luxury, when I barely knew him. Shaking my head, I opposed the wonderful gift, "You didn't have to do this," I countered.

"It's not that big a deal," he turned his face away from my eyes, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his low-slung jeans. Stealing another glance at the shoes, I easily gave in, swearing to myself this could be the only gift I would accept from him.

"Yes it is, at least to me. Thank you so much, Maks."

"Welcome to the dancing family, Meryl," he smiled. "Let's break these babies in," he chimed, kneeling onto one knee. Taking one shoe and slipping it on my bare foot, he whispered, "For the princess," buckling the shoe to my foot.

"Oh, Maksim," I pretended to swoon. A masculine laugh rumbled from his throat as he stood up. "You've only been dancing with me for three weeks, and you're already buying me shoes?" I quipped. "I think this will be the start of a beautiful relationship."

"I was thinking the same thing," he winked at me. The sun had already started to set, giving the room a peachy glow. "Go through the whole dance for me. If you mess up, keep going. I want to see where you're having problems for myself," he said, walking back to a corner of the room, while I finished clasping my other shoe. The music started, and I was off. I wasn't too comfortable with Maks standing there analyzing me, especially when I couldn't see his face, to know what he was thinking in this whirlwind of spins and tricks. By the time it was over I felt I had screwed up a thousand times, and now I was just waiting for him to tell me so. "There's nothing wrong with your steps, Meryl. You have absolutely nothing to worry about regarding the footwork, it's great. You just gotta get down and dirty. It's a confidence thing. Besides having the footwork, salsa is all about being confident and sexy," he told me. But I was not confident about myself in this dance, nor did I see myself as sexy.

I laughed nervously, "I'm not sure I know how to be sexy."

"I highly doubt that. We just need a switch, just switch it on, come on, I'll help you," he convinced me. Maks was offering to help me find my inner sensuality, and all I could wonder, as he pulled me into hold, was how he planned to do it. After two hours the sun had set and now it was the moon's turn to illuminate the quarters. We had gotten almost nowhere with my new seductive act and we were both mentally tired, emotionally tired, and physically tired as well as tired of re-rehearsing parts of the dance that I just couldn't get right. "The very last spin into me, we've got to get super close. Let's just run that part and then we'll be done," Maks sighed. He was visibly drained, and at the end of his rope. I retreated back, after being told I had done the spin wrong. It was now eight o'clock at night, and I was just trying to finish the practice. Attempting to do the move again, I was stopped in my tracks.

I exhaled loudly, "What am I doing wrong?"

"You're not close enough to me. Get close, Mer, get close," he begged. I did the spin another time, leaving as little space between us as possible, struggling to please him. But soon he was yelling, "Damn it, Meryl! How hard is it to spin into me?" Frustrated, I threw my arms in the air, totally defeated.

"How much closer to you am I supposed to get?" I spoke sharply.

"A hell of a lot closer than you were, I can tell you that," he snapped.

"Show me." I retorted before he pushed my body completely against his, raising me onto the tips of my toes. A piece of paper couldn't've been fit between us. My body molded to his, the air moving throughout my lungs stopped, though I could feel the hot puffs of air he was panting out on the top of my head.

"Put your hands around my neck," he commanded; I complied, our lips barely an inch apart. "Do you feel that?" He spoke softly. Unsure of what I was supposed to be experiencing, I stayed quiet. He continued without my words, answering himself, "Attraction. You told me you've never felt it. This is what it feels like," he said. I glanced up at him; his grip around my waist tightened. Butterflies erupted in my stomach. He felt attracted to me. The sensation of his warm hand on my back seared through my shirt. His free hand cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. My phone rang, breaking the momentary ecstasy. I stepped back from him, running my hand through my hair.

"Yeah, mom?" I picked up my call. I listened to her babble from the other end of the line. "I have to go now," I informed Maks, stumbling over my things in my rush to pick it all up. He mumbled a pathetic 'Night Meryl', awkwardly scratching the back of his head as I nearly sprinted out of his house. I didn't stop running until I reached my car, clutching at my stomach. My butterflies hadn't abandoned me and they weren't going anywhere for a long while.