On the Answer

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Note: As another feeble attempt into the world of fiction, I didn’t establish a word limit on myself this time. Because I embedded music into the story, listening to at least part of the song (30 seconds) helps set the tone. I will appreciate your comments about the story.

 

The large wooden floor and good music makes it a popular place for ballroom dancers. He and she are relatively newcomers to this venue – but this is their first special-event night – a charity ball. Each are acquainted with a few other people from previous visits, but not with each other. This night is their first sighting.

He finds her alluring – but their eyes never meet. He is a bit intimidated by her dancing ability. She watches him thinking he’s handsome and can dance – yet their eyes never connect.

He wants to ask her, but is hesitant. She waits – yet is anxious..

They sit on opposite sides of the hall – but never know the other’s interest. Their dance partners are from what seems to be a partitioned sector.

A waltz ends – they are unknowing close enough to bump into each other as they start to leave the floor causing their eyes to connect for the first time. Neither knows the other’s thoughts.

A Cha-Cha begins. Their previous partners know one another and pair to dance. He and she are left looking at each other. He asks. She smiles and accepts.

 

Cha Cha music is upbeat and rhythmic. The dance is fun, spirited, and playful – some say flirtatious.

He cautiously engages her. He starts with basic steps so they get comfortable with each other. She compliments his leads. He accepts through a smile and returns kind words; although her ability and confidence are obvious.

The music continues and the steps greatly vary as they both smile and occasionally talk while having a good time – actually a great first dance. The song ends. Smiles of approval and appreciation evident. The next song quickly begins.

 

He extends his hand to say, “Rumba?” She again accepts with a smile and without saying a word. Rumba – its slow, steady Latin beat that some say is the dance of love. To others, it’s the dance of foreplay.

Whatever he leads – she follows without hesitation. Again she compliments him. He smiles and tells her that she makes dancing easy to lead – but he is taken by her white dress that displays her form, her beauty, and her motions.

The song ends. He mentions they are two strangers dancing as one. She philosophically responds, “That’s a power of dance.” – then a different song starts.

 

A Bolero – the dance of love – a dance that they each adore – something the other doesn’t know. The music acts like a strong magnetic bringing their brown and blue eyes together. Without words, they stay on the floor.

Bolero music is slightly slower than Rumba. They are close – thighs touch – frames engage. Bolero is slinky – together, apart, back together – low then high, back to low. He offers a steadiness that she appreciates. She acts as his dance muse as he leads steps he’s never done before – yet she follows with elegance. Still no words – just dance.

She speaks to him with alluring eyes, flowing arms, and a curvaceous figure. He remains outwardly calm. Inwardly he concentrates on the dance because he doesn’t want to make a mistake – but she also has his attention. She is taken by his confidence and continues to silently speak. Once again, they dance as they were one.

The music ends. They stare, smile, and say thank you. He walks her back to her table where she invites him to sit. They continue to connect through conversation and more dances.

When they recount that night, common elements exist in their versions – yet each has their own perspective. She still boasts about his leads and handsomeness; he still finds that difficult to accept because of his ordinariness.

He still talks about the beauty behind her captivating ways; she graciously turns the compliments toward him. He recalls the white dress; she jokes about him remembering the dress while knowing it is safely stored as a keepsake. Yet, this story still remains the answer to the question that friends ask, “How did the two of you meet?”