Why don't you Stay ... Forever - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,24
the bar, afraid I’ll lose her. She might go down in the sea of people, and I’ll never find her again.
Erin keeps it simple with wine, and I go for an even simpler beer. Now to find a place to sit while we drink. The pounding music makes it impossible for us to discuss where we want to go—we mouth and use hand signals.
Ten minutes later, we luck out with a table in a corner on the upper tier as a party leaves. A harried waitress gives it a sloppy wipe down, and we sit.
“We can’t ever get up and dance,” I shout to Erin over the music. “Someone will snag the table.” Probably why everyone arrives in groups. There’ll always be someone to save the spot.
“We’ll guard it for you.” A woman at the next table, who is planted firmly on her boyfriend’s lap, offers this with a big smile. The boyfriend, who has his hand on her thigh under her skirt, pays no attention. Their friends, another couple, are thoroughly kissing each other.
“Thanks,” Erin says. “Appreciate it.”
The other woman waves off the thanks and nuzzles her boyfriend.
Erin regards the dance floor in longing, one foot tapping to the thumping beat. My worry that she’ll be unhappy with my choice of outing fades. But there’s another problem.
“I can’t actually dance,” I call across the table. “Zach tried to teach me, but he gave up. Said it was hopeless.”
“Zach isn’t me.”
“What?” I lean toward her, not sure I heard her right.
“I said, Zach isn’t me. I’ll teach you. I’ve taught four-year-olds. You can’t be much harder.”
I want to laugh. “Sure, I can.”
Erin pops out of her seat, drink forgotten. “Come on.”
She grabs me by the hand and leads me from our hard-won table, down the tiers and to the dance floor.
I don’t recognize the music playing. Something with a fast beat, computerized voice modulators, and instrument simulation. I know how it’s created, but I’ve never heard the song.
Erin and I squeeze onto the floor. Lots of dancing going on—groups, couples, women dancing together. Erin and I find a relatively open spot with some difficulty.
She puts her hands on my shoulders and sways into me. Not the best way to get me to move—my feet are frozen to the floor. I want to savor the moment with Erin, not shake my body. I’ll look like an idiot anyway.
Erin proves her dance knowledge goes well beyond ballet. She finds the beat and slides her body in effortless moves. She becomes the music, first flowing, then rocking, hips, arms, and legs moving in perfect time.
She catches the attention of those around us. They gravitate toward her, naturally attracted. I kind of shuffle my feet and pretend to dance, but no one is fooled.
“She’s outta your league, dude,” a guy informs me. He wants me to fade so he can dance with Erin.
Screw that. I move closer to her. Erin lays her arms on my shoulders and rocks against me.
“See? Can’t dance.” I canter back and forth, way off the beat. “These guys will lynch me to be with you.”
“No.” Erin shakes her head. She takes off her glasses and stuffs them in the little bag she carries on her wrist. “I’ll show you what to do—Dean does a lot of standing while I work.”
She wrinkles her nose as she confides this, as though pleading with me not to tell Dean she just said that.
“Dean seems like he knows what he’s doing even standing still,” I say. “Not me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make you look good.”
Erin spins around once, and I realize from the sudden gleam in her eye that she was just getting warmed up.
The song changes to a new one, but to me it’s essentially the same, only a little slower. Similar wavering female voice, booming under-beat, and synthesized lead instruments.
The slightly slower tempo makes Erin’s moves more sensual. She can take her time with her hip sways, her graceful arms, and her body swishing against mine and away. I’m afraid to move, because I don’t want the whole club seeing I’m getting hard for her. Desire can be so inconvenient.
Erin rests her hand on my shoulder as she kicks her leg out, her skirt swinging. She arches back and then slides around me like a harem dancer in an old movie.
People are watching, admiring, envying. Erin moves against me in beautiful waves, her entire body feeling the music.
She places my arm around her waist, then shows me how to toss her from