Page 2 of Dance This Song With Me?

Well, why not? I thought, joining the stream of people walking in.

Despite the absence of a bouncer downstairs, once I reached the upper level it was immediately clear there was controlled entry after all. People queued in front of a desk where a middle-aged, amiable-looking man was taking cash, checking phones or occasionally receiving what was presumably a printed ticket. Beyond the corridor, the corner of the room was visible through a propped-open door. Seats appeared to be setup around the circumference, and a few were occupied. Every now and then, a different couple came into view as they danced, but I couldn't get more than a glimpse of what they were doing. God, but the music made me want to move, and this more than anything fueled my curiosity.

I stepped out of the line and waited until the people behind me had gone through before approaching the desk.

"Uh, hey," I said. "What's going on in there?"

"It's our regular social dance," the guy told me. "Do you dance?"

"Uh, not really. Just club dancing. What... what kind of dancing is this?"

"Bachata. It's a style of latin dance. Sometimes we have salsa, but not tonight. Tonight only bachata."

"I've... I've never heard of it."

"Would you like to go in and watch for a while?" he asked. "You can just go in. No-one will mind."

"Can I?"

"Sure. No problem," he winked at me. "You never know, you might want to take some lessons."

How hard could it be? I wondered. Surely lessons wouldn't be necessary.

Gah! I had my answer as soon as I stepped into the hall, where couples were spinning and gyrating and performing all sorts of fancy moves to the current song. The music was cool and all, but the dance was complicated. Not the sort of thing where you could just step onto the floor and do it. It was intimidating as fuck, but it looked like hella fun. My lips curved, responding to the happy smiles on the faces of the dancers. Yeah, this was something I'd love to try.

Two dancers caught my eye. They were amazing together. They danced close, barely a breath of air between them, bodies rippling in a series of smooth body rolls and synchronised body waves. It was sensual and sexy and hot as all get out. Well, fuck me.

I watched the girl spin, then sensually roll her head as her partner trailed his hand around her neck, their chemistry obvious. The girl was graceful and objectively beautiful, but that didn't interest me, obviously. On the other hand, her partner...

"Oh my God," I murmured to myself, covering my mouth with my palm, as his face came into view. My heart skipped a beat, then made up for it by rushing the blood around my body. Heat prickled my skin. The dancer had a brooding face, intense with focus, heavy-set brows. His dark blonde hair was thick on top, short on the sides. Dark stubble adorned his chin and upper lip giving him a devil-may-care appearance. He oozed masculinity and moved with a confidence and grace that was hot as fuck. The silky shirt slid across the muscles of his chest, hinting at some serious pecs, and tight denim jeans did nothing to conceal his substantial package, teasing me with occasional glimpses of his bulge as his partner moved around him.

The song ended. I was still staring. As the man stepped back, our eyes met over his partner's shoulder. His brows tightened. For a moment the world stood still. Then he turned and was gone, swallowed up by the swirling crowd.

My heart beat louder than the introductory strains of the next song, my world shrinking to that one head-spinning moment before I came to my senses.

I'd seen enough.

The heavy door swung shut behind me as I left, shutting off all but a whisper of the music. There were no late arrivals checking in and the greeter's head was down, busy with his phone. I was reluctant to interrupt him and was going to leave without speaking to him, but he looked up as I passed his desk.

"What did you think of it?" he asked, one thick dark eyebrow raised like he already knew the answer.

"It looks amazing, but, ah, all the dancers seem pretty good."

"Well, it's late. The beginners come early for the class, and the regulars - the better dancers - come later."

My ears pricked up. "So... the same dancers turn up every night?"

"Every week. We have a social every Friday night. And yeah, mostly the same people come each week. You should come along."

"I feel like it would take a while to be good enough..."

"Eh, it's not so difficult. You wanna try it? My friend runs classes for beginners at his studio downtown. Here, take this," he added, picking up a flyer from a pile on the end of the table. "Tell him Carlos sent you. He'll give you a lesson for free. Check it out!"

"Cool, thanks. I might do that. Yeah. Thanks... Carlos."

I glanced at the pamphlet, folded the flimsy paper carefully and shoved it in my back pocket, my thoughts occupied by the hot guy on the dance floor, my mind running over all the possibilities.

But by the time I made it home, dancing and the sexy guy had completely slipped my mind, pushed out by Sasha's dramas.