Chapter 7

The dinner they had the following night was pleasant; they went to an Italian Restaurant that she liked. The house red wine they’d used to wash down their spaghetti and meatballs had put them both in good humor. When they finished eating they returned to Connie’s apartment. She’d decided it would be better to have his first dance lesson in private, where she could see just how good or bad he was before they went out in public.

Mike himself didn’t really care if the lessons were in private or public, He was just looking forward to the opportunity to hold her, to embrace her. Emotionally, she could continue to keep her distance, if that was what she’d been doing, but dancing, that called for physical contact. There was no way around it. That fact, and the time he was getting to spend with her both here and at dinner, made to whole evening worthwhile to him.

He somehow wasn’t sure what to expect when they walked into Connie’s apartment. He’d never taken dance lessons before and for all he knew she was going to spread cutouts of feet around the floor for him to follow, the way he’d always heard they did it at the old Arthur Murray Studios. When she turned on the lights and there was nothing different about the place, he gladly assumed she was going to be casual about the whole thing. He’d been worried that she might turn out to be one of those people that presume everybody was as single mindedly interested in their hobbies as they were. He realized that he should have known better; he’d never seen anything about her that indicated she was given to that type of presupposition.

“Have a seat,” she motioned to the sofa. “Care for another glass of wine before we get started? I remember you said you don’t like to mix your drinks.”

“Yeah, please, another would be nice.”

She went to the kitchen area and returned with two glasses and a large carafe of wine. She set the glasses down on an end table and filled them. Handing one to Mike she put the carafe on the table and sat down. Mike took a sip and looked at her.

“Zinfandel isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes it is. Do you know much about wine?”

“A little, the ex and I went through a wine drinking phase a couple of years ago. I thought it was kind of snooty and pretentious for the most part, but I did develop a certain fondness for Chianti, most any German white,” then he lifted up his glass, “and Joe Zin.”

“See,” she smiled, “you do have a hobby after all. I told you yesterday you weren’t boring.”

“Yeah, but drinking isn’t really a hobby, it’s an escape, and a piss poor one at that. You always have to sober up.”

“Well I still think it’s something interesting.”

“Yeah,” he joked, “well, you may have to explain that to my liver someday.”

“I’ll explain it to yours,” she countered, “if you’ll explain it to mine.”

“Sounds like a deal.” While he knew it was a joke, he happily envisioned them somewhere in the future, old, jaundice eyed, and cirrhosis ridden, but still friends.

“I think we’ve spoken enough of livers, they’ll have to take care of themselves for now. We’ll save the explanations for some future time, when they’re needed. You’re here for a dance lesson, remember?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said with a shrug, hoping the lesson included actually dancing with her, but he couldn’t get the thought of himself stepping on some damned cutout footprints out of his mind.

“We’ll start with the waltz since it’s probably the most practical. For things like the Tango you need specific music while tunes you can waltz to are more common. Have you by any chance ever done the waltz?”

“No, not really, if I did, like I said yesterday, I would have faked it using the box step.”

“Well, you’d be halfway there. The waltz is a box step. The thing is, when most people talk about the box step, they’re talking about a four count step, the waltz is three counts.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“OK,” she set her wine glass down and stood up, “come on, it’ll be easier to show you than to explain it.”

When Mike stood up and faced her, she stretched her arms out and placed her hands on his shoulders. It struck him as funny that every time he thought he was getting close to her she managed to somehow keep him metaphorically at arm’s length, but now she was actually doing it. He tried hard to suppress an amused smile. It seemed like some days he just couldn’t win.

“Now step out with your lead foot,” she directed. As he stepped forward, Connie moved backwards, mirroring him.

“Far enough?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s fine. Now, with the normal box step you’d bring your other foot up even with the first, to one corner of the box. What I want you to do instead is step diagonally to the second corner of the box.”

She pointed to the place on the floor where she wanted him to step. When he complied, she told him, “Good, now bring your first foot over and you’ve completed half the box. Then you do the same thing backwards and you’ve finished the box; simple, no?”

“Yeah, but there must be more to it than that.”

“Oh yes, there are turns and spins, but for now we’re sticking with the basics, at least until you’ve got them down pat. Then we’ll tackle the rest of it.”

“OK, but shouldn’t we be a little closer?”

“Let’s just say,” she smiled at him, “I’m staying back where it’s safe just for now. Now let’s try it a few times in real time, shall we?”

“Sounds fair to me.”

He realized that when she said “back where it’s safe” she was referring to the possibility of him stepping on her feet or tripping her, but he couldn’t help but think how it fit the pattern of their relationship. It was as if she were still holding him at bay. There seemed, in his mind at least, to be no end to it.

He awkwardly waltzed her around the box a couple of times, not quite getting the hang of the diagonal second count. Finally she stopped him for a moment.

“I think you’re thinking too much about the second step. You have to relax and just do it, let it come naturally.”

“Easier said than done,” he replied.

“Let’s try it again,” this time she counted aloud rhythmically, “one, two, three, one, two, three...”

She’d been right, his steps smoothed out once he relaxed. After several more repetitions she stopped him again. This time she moved closer, taking his left hand in her right while placing her other hand on his upper back. Happily he responded by sliding his right arm behind the small of her back. He’d always had a theory that a woman could sense how a guy felt about her by the way he held her and so always tried to be gentle; firm but tender. Tonight was no exception, but somehow it didn’t seem to be enough.

“Your right hand,” she said, “should really be up by my shoulder blades.”

He moved his hand up, conforming to her instructions. He couldn’t help but think she’d just destroyed his theory about conveying emotions by touch. Either that or she was simply dismissing his advances. Mike wasn’t sure which idea was more disappointing. But it wasn’t all that bad; Mike was happy just to have his arm around her and didn’t really care all that much about where his hand ended up.

“You want your right forearm parallel with the floor. It not only looks better, but I like it because if another woman comes close by who’s dancing better than me, it’s easy to pretend I tripped on your feet,” she suddenly lurched to the side, her elbow out, “and accidentally put one in the bitch’s ear.”

He couldn’t help laughing as she looked at him smiling. “Jesus, Connie, that’s a side of you I didn’t know existed.”

“We are still getting to know each other, I imagine there’s a lot about both of us that hasn’t come out yet. That’s what makes it interesting, don’t you think? Now, back to business.” She flashed an exaggeratedly innocent looking smile and then continued with metronome like precision, “one, two, three, one, two, three...”

As his motions became more fluid, it seemed to Mike as if he were beginning to glide along the floor, but he knew it might have been in his mind. It may well have been inspired by Connie’s presence and the fact that he was now holding this woman who seemed to have him completely beguiled. She was also the woman who up until now he’d viewed as friendly but distant and completely unattainable. He was in a state of rapturous delight, enthralled by the mere fact that he was holding her hand and had his arm around her.

Still, however, he couldn’t help but remember that every time it seemed like he was getting close to her she’d said or done something that gave him the feeling she was pushing him away. He reminded himself she was merely giving a dance lesson and it probably meant no more to her than that, no matter how much he was enjoying himself. He had to wonder when the other shoe would fall. The shoe was indeed going to fall, but when it did fall it would be in a completely unforeseen direction.

They continued to dance to Connie’s count which was occasionally interrupted when she gave him words of encouragement. Then suddenly she stopped and looked up at him with a strange, searching look on her face. Mike assumed either he’d done something wrong or she was about to critique his performance, then he felt her hand slip free of his and rest on the back of his neck. She gently tugged him downwards as she rose up on her toes to meet him and pressed her lips against his. It was a warm kiss, warm and welcoming, her lips soft and pliant. It was brief, but there was no mistaking her intent.

When she lowered herself back down on her heels, Mike was literally dumbfounded. Every time they’d been together he’d been looking for some small sign, some indication that she was even remotely interested in him. Now it had come and with absolutely no subtleties leaving him stunned. He was like a man who’d been hit over the head with a mallet, having not a clue as to what had just happened.

It was an awkward moment for both of them. As he looked at her she lowered her head slightly and glanced to the side avoiding eye contact appearing shy and slightly nervous. The sense of calm self-assurance he’d always detected in her in the past seemed to have abandoned her. Without thinking, he raised his free hand up to her chin, his fingertips softly urging it upwards as he leaned over to return her kiss. She tipped her head to one side to receive his advance, pressing herself against him.

This kiss was different from the last, more purposeful on both their parts. It was as if they’d broken through to an emotional wellspring of passion and desire that had until now been untapped. Mike was still unsure of what had just happened but for once wasn’t questioning it. All he knew was this woman, who in a short period of time had become precious to him, was now clinging tightly to him, kissing him passionately. How it occurred or what had brought it about didn’t matter in the slightest; all that he cared about at that moment was that it was happening.

This time when their lips parted, Connie continued to hold onto him, resting her head against his shoulder. After a few moments she broke the silence, speaking in a soft voice.

“Mike, you’re not really interested in ballroom dancing, are you?”

“Yes, no, I ... I guess it depends on how you mean it. If you mean ballroom dancing as a sport or activity, probably not, but if you mean dancing with you, that’s a different matter. I’d love to dance with you anywhere, in a ballroom, a barroom, here in the living room, it just doesn’t matter. I like being with you.”

Her hold on him loosened slightly as she raised her head off of him. “Why don’t we go over and sit on the couch?” she asked quietly.

Wordlessly, she turned and led him over to the sofa. When they sat down this time she sat close against him. He put his arm around her shoulders as she sat there leaning forward slightly. Her hands were lightly clasped together in her lap while she seemed to be staring at her knees.

“Mike, you say you like being with me, why is that?” She turned and looked at him, “I’d just like to know.”

Mike felt he was on familiar territory again; once more she seemed to be pulling back, distancing herself from him. He felt a twinge of disappointment run through him, but this time was determined not to let her. H wasn’t sure how but she wasn’t going to slip away again. He thought for a moment before answering honestly.

“I really don’t know, who knows why anybody is attracted to anybody else? All I know is every time I’m around you I feel good. That’s all, call me greedy, but I like that feeling and want more. It’s like your presence is a drug or something, and I’m addicted to it. I’d like to flatter myself and think that I have the same effect on you.”