hour Kristina abandons us to our own devices with just these last words “Remember, Salsa is about connecting with your partner, feeling their energy, don’t think with your mind, instead you must respond to them with only your body”.
When she steps out of the room the music starts up with a slow and luxurious beat; Carlos pulls me close and forgetting our lesson entirely we simply move against each other to the music.
His hands rest on to my hips, moving them to mirror his own, our bodies pressed together; we shift like this, never breaking contact through two songs; Carlos intermittently placing his hand on the small of my back and leaning into me so that I lay back, letting him support me as he turns my body in a half circle in front of him before running his hand up to my shoulders and straightening me against him once more. I can feel his breath on my neck, his cheek against my own; our fingers locked together on one side, while our free hands can explore each-others bodies.
Kristina was right about one thing, when you let go and concentrate solely on the other person, you start to move as one. There is no question of which direction we go, or what step should come next, it just happens.
Carlos leads and I follow, reacting subconsciously to every minuscule movement he makes, being so connected with him that I can even feel his heart beating in time with my own.
My legs are aching, my feet reaching their breaking point for being on tip toes, but the lure of being in close contact with Carlos, feeling his erection pushing against my groin is too captivating to stop.
Eventually the music ceases, we stop moving but stay glued to each other, staring into one another’s eyes, as what’s remaining of the class politely clap there appreciation for the band.
Finally as the crowd disperses, we reluctantly break apart and follow, with me tucked protectively under Carlos’s arm, but compared to the emotionally charged last hour, even this feels somehow disconnected from him.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving” he says as we step out into the warm evening air.
“Me too” I agree, “but where ever we go can it be close by, because my feet are killing me!?” I almost beg.
“Why didn’t you say?” he asks, grasping my wrists and lifting them above my head he swings me up and around so that I land on his back; placing my arms around his shoulders, I pull my legs up to rest over his hips, grateful that the hem of my skirt is loose enough to accommodate him between my legs. Once I’m in place he moves his hands to support me by my thighs and I lay my head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I will ever get used to you throwing me about like a rag doll Mr. Johnson” I whisper into his ear, as if it was a challenge he bumps me further up his back, making me giggle with secret delight, I actually love how easy he makes it seem.
We settle in a dark, cozy corner of the bar, cuddling together sharing a large bowl of chips and a jug of unnamed cocktail.
“So are you suitably impressed with my choice of date?” he asks mid chew.
“I am, it was wonderful, I’ve always wanted to try Salsa and as rubbish as I am, rubbing up against you made all my errors worth while” I gush back at him. He tilts my head back and places a soft kiss on my lips, reaching into the bowl he follows his kiss by popping a chip into my mouth while my eyes are still closed, making me laugh at the unexpected intruder, invading my taste-buds.
We while the night away, laughing and kissing, fondling beneath the table and getting steadily drunk, I lost count of how many cocktails I’ve had after the third jug.
The bar is bustling and there is live music playing, a woman sings blues in dulcet tones, as I lay with my head on his lap, we watch her singing out her heartbreak with the most angelic voice.
The music lulls my eyes closed and the alcohol dulls the pain in my toes and eventually blurs all my thoughts into oblivion.
I awake the next day, groggy, my head pounding, I tenderly open my eyes, the shutters are drawn saving me from being blinded by the morning sun, the clock on the wall opposite