Dance With Me

Dance with me, he whispered into my ear and held out a hand.
Thanks, but I don't ....I began automatically and stopped because I was suddenly looking into the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. Without another thought, I got to my feet and accepted the outstretched hand. I'd love to, I heard myself say.

Chemisty is such a mystery. He led me to the dance floor and slid one hand behind my back. There was a comfortable distance between us but no conversation and I prayed he wasn't aware of the butterflies that were dancing with us. I could feel sawdust on the old wooden floor, could smell his aftershave, and was intensely aware of his hand in mine and the slight pressure on my back. He was humming along with the music, an old blues song someone had requested. His breath was warm in my ear and when he pulled me just a little closer the sheer physical proximity was devestating and I began to think that my knees weren't going to keep me upright. Just follow my lead, I heard him say and I could feel the smile in his voice. My voice had suddenly taken leave of me and for no good reason I began to suspect that he could hear my heart beating. The music seemed to be coming from a distance and when it ended and he was gone, I managed to convince myself that I'd dreamed it. I picked up my camera and pointed it at the stage again but found I couldn't hold it steady. Furious with myself for not being able to
get a grip, for being so susceptible, for giving in to chemistry of all things, I took a few deep breaths, reached for my cigarettes and ordered a drink.

Whatever it had been eventually passed. I found steady hands once again and went back to shooting. The music was everywhere and gradually its magic replaced the unreality of the dance but not the memory and not the feelings that had surfaced. At the end of the night, I went home alone and dreamed of dancing on a sawdust floor.