Rachel Wants To Dance

Before I could say anything at all she had wrapped her arm in mine and was guiding me forward into the crowd.

“I want to dance,” she called out, practically yelling as the pounding beat and bodies surrounded us, “Come on!”

I was dragged along behind her, cast in her wake and nearly stumbling as I was buffeted this way and that by the crowd. There were so many of them, all bumping and moving like a single mass all coordinated by the pounding beat of the music.

“I’m not really a dancer,” I tried to protest, but she just laughed and kept on pulling me forward.

Leaning in close she yelled loud enough that I could hear her, “That’s just because you’ve never really danced before.”

The crowd surged around us and her hand slipped, sliding down my arm until she caught my wrist and then shifted it around, interlocking her fingers with mine. We were fully extended, arms like a bridge between our two bodies in town as we stretched to our limit, to the point where we just might break, and then like fate itself took a hand the crowd parted enough for her to pull me forward.

You know that dance move where you’re holding hands and extended to your limit and then the one party, the one in the lead, lifts your hand and spins you around to draw you in? Rachel executed that with a grace that I’d never seen in person before, pulling me to her through the crowd and making it somehow that I didn’t stumble.

I came close to her, my body pressed against hers for an instant that evoked the memories of a potential future with her. Flashes behind my eyes timed to the blinking of the lights as I remembered decades of times in her bed, delicately tracing the curves of her body and letting her trace mine.

Rachel has always been beautiful, always an object of desire. But being with her here in this crowd emphasized all of that. A particularly placed light flashed bright and her head was perfectly lined so it illuminated her hair from behind, giving her the effect of a halo that faded only as the light of her features came into view. The curve of her full lips and the bright beams of her eyes, so open and alight with her delight.

Her hand slipped from mine but her grip found my hips. Moving me and guiding me into a swaying motion that was in time with hers. Finding the beat of the music in a way that I never had before and finding, for the first time in my life, the absolute delight that dancing can be.

You have to let yourself be free, be truly free, in order to fully embrace the joy of dancing. You have to feel the music in your heart and in your soul and you have to feel it in the soles of your feet. You have to let it take you over and drive you into a frenzy that you don’t tamp down but you ride like a bronco you’re trying to settle. You have to close your eyes and live in the moment.

For the first time I did just that.

And god I felt it. I felt every inch of my skin and I felt my body move, felt it bounce to the tune around me. I felt the crowd like a heartbeat and I let it guide mine, my body still swaying and her hands still on my hips but the rest of me free to be myself.

With a sigh and a smile on my lips I swayed, rolling my shoulders and slipping my arms into the sky. The burst of energy throbbed deep in my chest, behind all of me and thrumming out to the edges of me as I felt it pound and grab and pull me.

A guttural ‘whoop’ escaped my lips and I threw my head back, feeling a shiver run down me from head to toe. I pulled back and she pulled me into her, our bodies pressing together as my arms lowered and wrapped around her neck.

The music was grinding into us and I was grinding into her, my eyes fluttering open and taking her in as she stared at me, the heady and naked look in her own eyes showing me precisely what directions she meant for this night to turn to.

Oh god we were close, so close that the temptation was there to lose myself in her. So close that I knew the attention we drew as we pushed that little bit closer and those hungry eyes that had been watching me before held their breath in anticipation of what came next.

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