Cindy Gingrich kindly invites you and any number of guests to share in a woman's fantasy as she considers dancing partners...
By Cindy Gingrich
It was the night of The Policemen's Ball. The detectives, of all types and descriptions, stood in a row. But they were talking, not dancing. No doubt discussing important police business!
Every flavor of music resonated through the hall. There was something to please everyone. Her feet were already tapping to the beat, and the rest of her was ready to go, too. How to get these wallflowers dancing -- what kind of music, what song would it take?
Mambo No. 5 playfully burst forth into the air, bringing laughter from the first man in line. She was drawn to him, approval lighting her face. This caught his eye, and he returned her attention with an engaging smile. Yes, let's dance! Soft black eyes shone from his honey-colored skin. He had close-cropped black hair, a chiseled chin, and a look of boyish innocence. His suit was casual and relaxed, but the body beneath was ready to move. He stepped out and took her hand. This was not Rey's first time. His lead in the swing was both silky smooth and delightfully rambunctious, and by the song's end, they were both laughing. He bent to kiss her cheek in a thank you, and she breathed in the sweet essence of his shave soap. She smiled up into his eyes, and saw pleasure there, but also the slightest hint of sadness…
The tempo changed, slowed, to the clarinet-rich swell of Moonlight Serenade. She saw a wry smile come to the face of the second man in line. His lankiness, conservative dark suit, and the touch of gray at his temples reminded her of Stan Kenton, a bandleader from the 50s. She was taken back to the mood and the manners of those days. A lady waited to be asked. She approached him, with her best smile. To her delight, Lennie held out his arm. With one hand cradling her fingers lightly, and the other just touching her side, he led gracefully, with a touch of formality, and with ease. She closed her eyes, floating in his arms. The gentle rhythm, and the scent of an aftershave that she remembered from her past, revived the memory of a happy time, years ago. When the music faded, he bent and kissed her hand and thanked her, with a broad grin. She blushed, almost shyly...
There was a moment of suspense, then Pennsylvania Polka rumbled into the crowded room. The detectives were now all laughing, and she grinned. Let’s pass on this number --
Her eyes met his and he smiled mischievously. Tempted. Definitely. Ed was not shy and had no reason to be. A pale silk suit set off his dark skin and smoldering eyes. She held out her hands and he moved his body close. They pulsed to the beat, in unison, each mirroring the other, but never quite touching (what a shame!). His dark eyes shone, full of suggestion, never leaving hers. She felt her temperature rising, and his, too, and she breathed in the seductive scent of his cologne. Just enough to make her want to get closer, to feel his body. Alas! Glenn Tilbrook finished his lament much too soon and she could only receive a promise in his eyes of more to come...
The tallest man in line had watched all of this with an amused look on his handsome face. He looked cool and collected in a fine navy suit -- well, cool except for that rather loud tie. Thank God he couldn't dance, he thought -- he wasn't getting involved in this!
So he was unprepared, not expecting Wonderful Tonight. His eyes narrowed a moment with pleasure. She moved close, nearly touching him, seducing. Parts of him were unquestionably willing, eager to be engaged, but he only smiled. A nice smile. She looked up into fiery dark eyes, and whispered, "Please."
Mike was not wearing cologne; however, the dance-induced heat from her body quickly filled his head with a spicy, intoxicating fragrance. He thought he might want more. "But I can't dance," he protested, running his fingers through thick black hair. A bit self-conscious now.
"Oh, but you can," she murmured. He surrendered, smiling, and let himself be led into the fray. She circled her arms around his neck, and drew herself closer and still closer, until his next breath pressed his body against her. With strong arms, he gathered her even tighter, her warmth spreading throughout him. He could feel the music, through her body, and they moved as one, swaying slowly, longingly. Then his mouth found hers and he kissed her, slowly, longingly. But the tryst ended too quickly. He sighed -- Clapton never wrote enough verses. She reluctantly disentangled from his embrace.
"And you said you couldn't dance," she teased.
"Are you kidding?" He grinned. "I love to dance...."
She stepped back, away, to catch her breath.
Then stood, waiting, watching. What song, which partner, what dance would be next?