Chapter 3

I put the finishing touches on my makeup and went into the bedroom.

My dress was hung on the closet door waiting for me. It was the final bit of attire to complete my look. I took the wispy, black, spaghetti-strapped dress and slid it down my body, over the black silk bra and black bikini panties. It ended about 6 inches above my knees. The ensemble was completed by my black, three-inch heeled dancing shoes.

It had been almost two years since the anniversary on which I nearly lost my marriage. Six months of therapy had gotten us to a point where it was even better than before the event. The event. Sounds clinical and benign, doesn't it? It wasn't. I had cheated on him on our anniversary and flaunted it. The reasons I thought I had were false and stupid.

I learned in therapy that it was practically preordained by the constant messages I had gotten in childhood of my inadequacy as a person. My parents had not meant to scar me. It was their way of saying, "I think you're so great you can do anything." But it came out, "Why won't you do better? You never live up to your potential. You're a failure." I guess my subconscious started to believe it after the 10,000th or 20,000th time I heard that I was, somehow, not worthy. So I was set on a course to prove them correct.

That was then. Once I understood why I did self-destructive things, the affirmation of my worthlessness lost its power over me. Even if I had done unworthy things in the past, nothing prevented me from avoiding them in the future. At least that was what I hoped. One day at a time.

I looked in the full-length mirror. I was hot! Guys would be drooling tonight. Their dates would be jealous.

I was going dancing at a nearby club that featured Latin music. This was not a bar with music but a dance club with liquor. Maybe the distinction isn't obvious. People go there to dance and happen to drink between dances.

They had a live band, which would play the whole panorama of Latin music. But the highest percentage of the music would be Salsa, high-energy, hip-swiveling, infectious music. The time and money spent on dance lessons would be put to good use.

I arrived just after eight and, while not fully crowded, the place was in full swing. The dance floor abounded with people who had looks on their faces that said, "It doesn't get any better than this."

There was never a guarantee you could find somebody to dance with unless you brought them. People come here primarily to dance, not to pick up members of the opposite gender. But there were usually a few unattached dancers of each persuasion.

As I watched people dancing, I saw him approaching. His blue suit looked like the pattern had been cut for his body, which was solid and well muscled. He walked with a confidence that said, "I can have anything I want." And, he was gorgeous. A shiver ran through me just looking at him. I could suddenly understand why guys have so much fun girl watching.

He held out a hand to me. "Would you like to dance?"

I was so taken with him that I wasn't able to answer immediately. "Yes," I finally got out.

He took my hand and held it all the way to the dance floor.

The band was playing a Salsa. He took my right hand in his left, put his left hand around my back and started moving to the music. He swiveled his hips and moved his body as if this form of dance had been invented just to display his sexuality.

Not only did he look fantastic, he was a superb leader. He would assertively raise my arm to lead me in a turn in either direction. When he wanted me to turn sideways, he would slide his hand from my back to my hip and exert a little rotational pressure backward to let me know. He was completely in charge.

The whole time he was looking at me with those deep brown eyes like nothing else existed or mattered except the two of us and the dance we were doing.

It was more than dancing. There was clearly a sexual component to it. It made me feel uncomfortable, but I liked it.

When the dance ended, he brought my right hand to his lips and kissed it. "Thank you. You are a wonderful dancer."

"So are you..." I didn't know his name.

"Rodolfo." He bowed ever so slightly as if to apologize.

"I'm," I almost said Beth, "Margot."

We walked back to the table area. He still had my hand.

"I see you are married, Margot. Why don't you introduce me to your husband? I would like to tell him what a lucky man he is."

Oh, my. Oh, that requires a response, doesn't it? "He's out of town on business. He left this afternoon." Did I have to supply so much detail?

"If I were married to such a beautiful woman, I don't know if I would want her out dancing with strange men looking the way you do."

Oh, my. It wasn't just the way he said it. It was the intensity of his look. "Well, he, I, he wanted me to have fun. I love to dance."

"I think him on behalf of all the men here. I would worry about letting you go alone."

"Well, he has nothing to worry about. I'm very happily married."

"Of course."

We were up to dance and down to rest for the next couple of hours. We danced more Salsa, Cha Cha and Rumba. He started with basic stuff because he had not had a chance to watch me dance to assess my level. But he was so good: he led so well, and it was so sensual.

If you haven't been Latin dancing, you probably can't understand. The sexual energy in the room was palpable. I was not unaffected. Rodolfo was not doing anything inappropriate or even suggestive. There was just an aura of sexuality about him. He couldn't help it.

"Please, Margot, can I get you a drink?"

"Are you trying to get me a little drunk?"

"Please, Margot. Why would I do that to such an angel?"

Oh, my. "Okay. I'll have a grasshopper." That couldn't do too much harm, could it? "I'll be right back. I'm going to the Ladies' Room."

I checked myself out in the mirror before returning. No wonder Rodolfo was interested. How could he not be?

As I reached the table I saw him say something to the band leader and head back to our table.

We talked as I sipped. Rodolfo would touch my hand or my arm as he spoke. Occasionally he would touch my leg through the dress. I understood the body language. I returned some of it.

Rodolfo was really appealing and it was going to be a great disappointment to have to turn him down.

The band took a ten-minute break. When they returned, Rodolfo asked me, "Do you by any chance dance Argentine Tango?"

"It just so happens I do."

He took my hand, drew me up and walked me to the dance floor. He knew what was coming. I guessed that was the conversation with the band leader.

The tango started and he surprised me from the first step. Before I could gather my feet together, his right foot moved between mine and was sandwiched between them. He shifted his weight to his right foot and moved his left to sandwich my right. We were in what is known as a shared axis, two people trying to occupy the same space at the same time. We weren't close together, there was no space separating us at all. It is impossible to stay in this position very long. Somebody will lose their balance.

He moved his chest forward and I stepped back on my left leg as his left leg moved forward to my right. Then he surprised me again. His chest moved forward and as I prepared to move back with my right leg, I felt his shoe against mine. His foot followed mine, touching all the way, giving the appearance that he was pushing my foot with his. That is the illusion it is supposed to create but it was so unexpected.

He gathered us up in shared axis again for a brief moment and I stepped forward as he stepped back. All of this was in keeping with the slow speed and the emotional content of the music.

He was an excellent leader in Salsa, but in Argentine Tango, he was masterful.

He took me to the cross and then led me to step across his path with my right foot. He continued to turn me around him as if he were the center of the universe. And, at that moment he was, both emotionally and from the point of view of the dance.

As I moved around him, I knew I was supposed to stay close, both for balance and for the sensual look it created. It would not have mattered if I didn't know that. He controlled me perfectly so that I couldn't wander even slightly off course.

He took me all the way around him and had me step across his path with my right foot again. He stopped me and turned me so that I was positioned to come back across with my left foot. But he didn't lead me to take the step. Before I could take it, I felt his foot against my right foot, blocking me from taking a step.