I've always envied people who can dance. I'm not a complete klutz. When I was younger we used to do line-dancing (not the country western kind... it didn't exist around here then) on the beach. Sunset would come, we'd play oldies, and do stuff like the hully gully (ask your grandparents) or the stroll in tide-pools. Barefoot, ankle deep in water, we had a blast with a boombox blaring out old stuff from the fifties. Later it was The Electric Slide and The Montego. Yep. I'm old.
But when I said dance... I don't mean the generic shaking of booty that pretty much everybody can do, if not particularly well. I mean D A N C E.
I can dance-- held in the arms of a man, swirling to music on a hardwood floor-- with a total of two people on earth. Ahmed is one, and the second is one of our oldest friends. He's an amazing dancer and I've known him so long he's like my brother. So I trust him. And dancing, for real, is all about trust.
I don't like being pushed around, and that includes on the dance floor. Ahmed can take me in his arms, hold my gaze, and steer me. I trust him. I know he won't drop me, stomp on me, or steer me wrong.
I guess that's why I love to read a historical romance with two lovers dancing in one another's arms. Or why I love ballroom dancing on PBS. It's about two people trusting one another without any hesitation. Hesitation kills the dance.
I admire anyone who does it beautifully. Like these two. ENJOY:
ADDED: Need a reason to dance? Our own Gwen Hayes won first place in Paranormal Category of the Marlene Contest!!
