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Stars filled the night sky. A gentle cool breeze from the sea tempers the warm air. The outdoor patio at Cafe Romantico, which overlooking the city and the sea below. Rhythms of Spanish guitars fitting fill the air for this place by the sea.
The small audience remains as the night nears its end. He – a blonde, blue-eyed American in the area for business. She – a lady of the region with olive skin and long, straight, dark hair.
As a dancer knowing the rhythm, the slower-paced song speaks to him He approaches her, “Un Bolero, Señora por favor.”
She nods while offering her hand. They walk onto the dance floor of beautiful tile displaying the region’s intricate designs.
Their hands join. Their thighs touch. Her left hand goes to his shoulder. His right arm embraces her to complete the frame. They don’t know each other, yet they are one.
As a dancer, he is wise. Initial patterns are easy as each acclimates to the other. Each notices the skill level of the other. He smiles to her and she senses the simplicity is about to change.
Bolero is long and stretchy. They are close, then apart, then close. Low, then high, then low. She sends him messages through her slinky frame, moving arms, and sensual face with dark eyes. He attempts to remain unflappable, yet she motivates him.
They are close, she whispers to him in his native language. He responds by leading everything he knows. Walks, turns, contras, rondes, sweethearts, moons, sways, passes, checks, syncopated, and switches – and she answers his lead every time while continually speaking to him through her nonverbal cues as if she’s drawing him into her web.
He tries to ignore, but he can’t help notice her sensuality. Her movements speak to him – but that’s Bolero – let alone the setting.
The song ends. They silently stare into each others eyes. Seemingly eternity passes. And …. this was his night to remember on Spain’s Costa del Sol.