Anyway, here it is; the story of the beginning of a beautiful friendship:
We
rolled into the nightclub, the band and I. We had just finished our
gig and were visiting, as honored guests, friends of ours at their
job. We were here to listen. We were here to party. We were here to
jam.
I
was dressed all in black, except for a skinny red tie, knotted
loosely at the throat with the top two buttons of my shirt
unfastened. I heard, “That’s the bass player,” as I walked past
crowded tables to the front of the room, and a table beside the
bandstand.
We
sat with the band’s girlfriends and wives and listened and hollered
and whistled as they finished their set. Lucy yelled, “Play
Freebird!” at the band onstage and they cracked up. It was a
running joke between us. The singer spoke into the mic, “We’ll
save that one for later,” and announced a pause for the cause.
The jukebox came on
and I wandered toward the bar to grab another beer.
“Hey!”
I
turned toward the voice and a woman motioned me to where she was
sitting.
“This girl here
wants to dance with you.” She grinned and pointed. You were
blushing prettily.
“Well, come on and
dance!” I invited.
You stood and
stepped from behind the table; five foot two, a hundred pounds maybe.
All in black. Like me. I backed onto the dance floor, watching you
move toward me. You smiled then lowered your gaze, blushing again.
Something slow was playing. I extended my arms and you stepped into
them, placing your hand on my shoulder. I took your other hand in my
left hand and with my right, encircled your waist. Such a tiny waist.
We swayed to the music and you pressed your body into mine as I
pulled you closer. Your cheek touched my cheek and I could feel the
heat of that blush lingering. We didn’t speak. I was aware only of
the pulsing of the music and the sensation of you against me, moving
with me. I stepped more quickly to the beat and you were with me. I
spun, then halted in mid-move and spun the other way. You were there.
I clasped your hand to my chest and my right hand slid down to where
I could feel your hips move and we danced as if we had always been
dancing together like this.
I
don’t know how long we danced. The music stopped and I pulled back
a bit to look at you. I grinned and then held your hand as we walked
across the dance floor. Something fast began to blare from the
jukebox. Side-by-side, we did a few dance steps as we approached the
table where your friends were sitting. I slipped my hand around your
waist again and squeezed you to my side. Leaning over, I whispered in
your ear.
“Thanks for the
dance.”
I had searched the blog for the mysterious "night we met" post, and was excited to discover this today! I have to admit - I came unglued all over again at that last line. Thank you for sharing.
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