Two men dance bare-footed on a chequered marble floor. They are dressed in dark trousers, white shirts and wear braces. The taller man has his hand placed lightly on the other man’s back. Their heads almost meet but their bodies are tantalisingly just apart, as if they don’t want to be too close.
I have been living in stolen moments. It’s been weeks since the first time he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dance floor, my father’s expectations and the ledgers of our failing family restaurant forgotten. After everyone leaves for the night, he’s been teaching me how to dance. It was a lark at first, a welcome distraction from, well… everything. Lately though, something is different. We move as one being now. The feel of him, my hand pressed on the small of his back, the heat of his face inches away from mine… it’s all I think about, having him in my arms. I count the hours, the minutes till I can brush my fingers over his shoulders and feel his breath on my chin. Does he feel the same way?
This could be historical or contemporary― wherever the picture takes you. I hope there is an HEA for these two, and I am dying to know what happens when they finally kiss! Oh, and if it works for a tango lesson or two to devolve into sexy times (clothes torn off/open and cum splattered all over the marble floor), I won’t protest.
Tags: infidelity, angst, dancing, friendship, accountant, bartender/waiter, student, wedding
Word Count: 22,358
EVENT: Love’s Landscapes