Soul Dance

I felt a twinge nervous and excited while I was standing in front of his home. My emotions piled up, brick by brick making a wall up to my throat. James opened the door, I could tell he was pleased to see me by his smirk, his salt and pepper mustache curling around his lips. I took off my sneakers and placed them with the others, exposing my feet. When my toes touched the warm cedar hard wood floor, made me feel grounded, as if my toes were digging themselves in the dirt, planting my stance. The exposed brick wall and collection of books surrounding his living room delighted me. I was in the home of an adult, who lived alone. The realization made my insecurities sink into the abyss of my chest. I was in the home of a man, not a boy and it showed. I had no real expectations, but light conversation and physical activities would conspire but I felt like this would be different than any other one-night stand.

…

James was tall, bald, with seasoned facial hair to go with his seasoned experience. He had a charm that only an older gentleman could provide. He favored my father in many ways, in appearance. At first this unsettled me. As I stared at him from across the bar, I thought about what this attraction was coming from. Was I attracted to him or attracted to the idea of him being older than me? I could feel myself disassociating. I turned my glance from him and to the dance floor gulping my whiskey sour, hoping the drink would numb the thoughts of my inner child crying for the attention of a father figure. As I finished my last gulp, I wished my mood would reflect the excitement that was happening on the dance floor. I couldn’t dance Salsa if I was the last Puerto Rican on Earth, but I’d rather attempt to make a fool of myself in this salsa club then be here alone, sulking.

I turned back to the bar, figured I’d get one more look before I never see him again, but he was gone. Wasn’t meant to be I thought. As I got up to leave, the handsome older stranger was staring back at me, holding out his hand.

“Dance with me” he said with a warm smile. I said yes, the word stumbling out of my mouth. He guided me to the dance floor, with such a confidence, I knew I was in trouble. “I’m not good at this!” I yelled over the music, “I’m not a good dancer”. James laughed and pointed to his chest, “Follow my heart” he said as loud as he could.

He held me in position, holding my hand and hugging my waist with the other. I was terrified as he began to glide me through the dance. I felt his grip strengthen on my waist and it aligned my footing, our eyes locking on each other’s. Each step he took, I followed, seamlessly. James’s grin grew every moment I followed his every step, I could feel my fear melt away.

When James’s performed the final turn of the night, I missed the signal and turned the opposite way, leaving our dance cut short.

“I’m sorry! I thought I was going the right way.”

“You said you never danced before, right? You pulled that off! That was amazing!” he said in astonishment.

“Are you just saying that?” I couldn’t help but blush. My hair was so wild from all the dancing, I tuck a few brown ringlets behind my ear.

“I mean it, when I said follow my chest, you listened! That is really impressive. Most people can’t just let go!”

“Oh, I thought you said follow your heart. Haha I was going off of that”.

He smiled at me with the best grin I’d ever seen, “I’m James, What’s your name?”

“Selene” I grinned.

“May I have your number. I would really like to see you again.” I obliged, of course. I couldn’t lose the chance to see him again.

After that night, we texted here and there, exchanging perspectives on the moment we first met. James admitted he noticed me before I noticed him and how beautiful I was, commenting on voluptuous curly hair and body. We both agreed that our dance sealed the deal, leaving us wanting more.

…

I sat on his oversize emerald green velvet couch, sipping the drink he made for me. He told me about his work in architecture and his passion for the drums. He even told me about his divorce and how his ex-wife forced their children to move with her out of the country. Both of us were lonely, missing part of ourselves. His children, my father. The uneasiness I felt about my attraction to him subsided. He wasn’t my father, and that is what I loved about him the most.

“Am I talking to much? You are just so easy to talk to”.

“No! Not at all. I love listening to you” I reply, gulping the last drops of my drink.

“Enough talking, let’s dance! I’ll teach you all the steps the professional way.”

I was nervous but excited to be taught by such a master. He held me in the same stance as before, but this time was different, he was serious, putting his teaching hat on. I followed him like I did before, but he held me stern to each move.

“Keep your arms strong. Salsa is about following but also resistance. So, you have to resist when I pull you to move, keeps the steps sharp.”

I giggled, “My body doesn’t want to resist.”

James gave a sly smirk, “I bet, but really try, I want to feel you pull away from me.”

He pulled me into a direction I was not prepared for, and my breasts bumped into his stomach, my head falling into his chest. He smelled of the cedarwood, like the floor and wet from sweat. I slowly looked up to him prepared to be scolded by my teacher, but his eyes met with a fixation of passion. I couldn’t hear the music anymore. All I could hear was my heartbeat thumping inside of my chest. He leaned in and kissed me. I felt energized by his touch, he was gentle yet aggressive, all the things I’ve wanted from partners my age. He guided me to the couch, his lips not leaving mine. His kisses were long and deep, giving each other our breath to breathe. His hands felt on my breasts as my hands glided down his pants. James laid me down, moving his kisses moving down my body His eyes met mine one more time, with an intoxicated grin, I could tell he couldn’t wait to dive in.

We laid next to one another after our final dance. James got up first and I stayed for a moment, trying to ground myself. I was consumed with ecstasy. Finally, I arose from my sexual coma and retrieved my clothes. James was in the kitchen, his back facing me. When he turned towards me our eyes met.

“Selene” he said softly, as if he meant to whisper in my ear. “I have to confess something.”

I froze. I could feel him about to pull the rug from under me, like the others always did. Before he took a breath to speak, words hurdled out of my mouth. “It’s ok. I’ll just go.” I unlocked my stare and finished putting on my clothes. Tears began to boil from my eyes, but my pride held them down, leaving my throat tight. Maybe he is like my father after all. Maybe I’m just not meant to be loved by any man.

Before I could grab my shoes, I felt a strong grip on my hand. It was strong yet soft. James spun me towards him, his arms like a weighted blanket consoling the pain brewing inside of me. As my head rested on his chest, I could hear his heartbeat beating as fast as Salsa drums. He then took a breath and said, “I really care about you, and I hope that doesn’t scare you away. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time but I feel a strong connection with you. I hope that is ok.” I looked up at him and gave him a kiss as the tears I held on to released themselves from imprisonment. “I care about you too” I replied. He cupped my face with his large hands and wiped my tears with his thumbs.

He asked me to stay the night, but I declined. Part of me wanted to but the other part felt numb to the idea. I meant what I said, I do care about him, but the unsettledness kicked in again. Could I be vulnerable with him? Could I open myself up to the possible disappointment I was grown into feeling? I received calls and texts from him, but I didn’t answer. He is nothing like my father, I am.