Eternity (11 page)

“I thought you knew, what with your clothes, you are the image of Salsa” he replies confused.

“Nope, just a happy co-incidence” I smile as I hug his arm, barely able to contain my excitement.

When he opens the door for me, the music blares out, as I step into the room I can feel the beat rising through my shoes and up my legs making my hips impulsively start swaying.

After a few minutes where we mingle and chat with the other people choosing to take the class, mostly novices like myself thankfully, a stern looking, but stunning woman marches in; the music comes to an abrupt stop and she commands the attention of the entire room with a single flick of her wrist.

She is intimidating, but you cannot take your eyes off her, her clothes stick to her body as if merely painted on to her skin, a split in the side of her skirt rises dangerously high on her defined thigh. She not only walks, but demonstrates each move faultlessly in sky high heels; she i
s
th
e
goddess of Salsa!

In a deep sultry purr, she explains that Salsa is within us all, it is the very beat of your heart; Salsa resides in all of us, hidden in the very depth of our souls until the time comes when it is released, at which point it envelopes our being entirely.

I have never heard anyone so impassioned by a dance style, but I find myself hanging off her every word; determined to experience the apparent intensity this dance demands.

I am surprised to find that even in her company, Carlos’s eyes never leave my body, trained on my swishing hips, even when my footing falters, he catches me before I have a chance to even try and catch myself. I feel so protected in his embrace and so lusted after against his grinding hips.

As a group, we vaguely pick up the basic steps Kristina painstakingly shows us repeatedly and in turn we mimic her badly, of course except for Carlos who seems unsurprisingly expert in the ways of Salsa.

After an exhausting hour Kristina abandons us to our own devices with just these last words “Remember, Salsa is about connecting with your partner, feeling their energy, don’t think with your mind, instead you must respond to them with only your body”.

When she steps out of the room the music starts up with a slow and luxurious beat; Carlos pulls me close and forgetting our lesson entirely we simply move against each other to the music.

His hands rest on to my hips, moving them to mirror his own, our bodies pressed together; we shift like this, never breaking contact through two songs; Carlos intermittently placing his hand on the small of my back and leaning into me so that I lay back, letting him support me as he turns my body in a half circle in front of him before running his hand up to my shoulders and straightening me against him once more. I can feel his breath on my neck, his cheek against my own; our fingers locked together on one side, while our free hands can explore each-others bodies.

Kristina was right about one thing, when you let go and concentrate solely on the other person, you start to move as one. There is no question of which direction we go, or what step should come next, it just happens.

Carlos leads and I follow, reacting subconsciously to every minuscule movement he makes, being so connected with him that I can even feel his heart beating in time with my own.

My legs are aching, my feet reaching their breaking point for being on tip toes, but the lure of being in close contact with Carlos, feeling his erection pushing against my groin is too captivating to stop.

Eventually the music ceases, we stop moving but stay glued to each other, staring into one another’s eyes, as what’s remaining of the class politely clap there appreciation for the band.

Finally as the crowd disperses, we reluctantly break apart and follow, with me tucked protectively under Carlos’s arm, but compared to the emotionally charged last hour, even this feels somehow disconnected from him.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving” he says as we step out into the warm evening air.

“Me too” I agree, “but where ever we go can it be close by, because my feet are killing me!?” I almost beg.

“Why didn’t you say?” he asks, grasping my wrists and lifting them above my head he swings me up and around so that I land on his back; placing my arms around his shoulders, I pull my legs up to rest over his hips, grateful that the hem of my skirt is loose enough to accommodate him between my legs. Once I’m in place he moves his hands to support me by my thighs and I lay my head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I will ever get used to you throwing me about like a rag doll Mr. Johnson” I whisper into his ear, as if it was a challenge he bumps me further up his back, making me giggle with secret delight, I actually love how easy he makes it seem.

We settle in a dark, cozy corner of the bar, cuddling together sharing a large bowl of chips and a jug of unnamed cocktail.

“So are you suitably impressed with my choice of date?” he asks mid chew.

“I am, it was wonderful, I’ve always wanted to try Salsa and as rubbish as I am, rubbing up against you made all my errors worth while” I gush back at him. He tilts my head back and places a soft kiss on my lips, reaching into the bowl he follows his kiss by popping a chip into my mouth while my eyes are still closed, making me laugh at the unexpected intruder, invading my taste-buds.

We while the night away, laughing and kissing, fondling beneath the table and getting steadily drunk, I lost count of how many cocktails I’ve had after the third jug.

The bar is bustling and there is live music playing, a woman sings blues in dulcet tones, as I lay with my head on his lap, we watch her singing out her heartbreak with the most angelic voice.

The music lulls my eyes closed and the alcohol dulls the pain in my toes and eventually blurs all my thoughts into oblivion.

I awake the next day, groggy, my head pounding, I tenderly open my eyes, the shutters are drawn saving me from being blinded by the morning sun, the clock on the wall opposite stating 6.30am. I take a few moments to establish my where abouts and what happened to bring me here. I remember dancing and drinking, far too much, but then it’s a blank. I have snippets of memory, Carlos being here at some point, but it could just have easily been a dream.

I become aware of the fact that I am naked, then I spot my clothes neatly folded on the chair, Carlos must have been here, I know that I certainly was in no fit state to do it myself.

Oh God, I hope I didn’t do anything gross like vomit on him, or worse still let slip how much I like him!

Searching my surroundings I spot his usual note, today on the bedside table. I quickly reach out to it, forgetting my delicate state and instantly regretting such a hasty move, as a thumping pain in my head starts up and my stomach twists into a knot.

I lay back down waiting patiently for the symptoms to subside before very slowly trying for the note again; I manage it this time with limited discomfort.

‘It was a pleasure putting you to bed Ms. Mavers, next time hopefully I will be joining you!

Give me a call when you wake,

Carlos x x x’

My lips twitch into a small smile, but even that tiny movement sends a wave of nausea over me again. I want to call him right now, but first things first, I’m going to have to find a way to cure this hangover!

I crawl pathetically into the bathroom, urging constantly, barely holding it in; once I arrive I sit up, stretching to turn on the shower without having to stand up properly. The water bursts from the shower head, ice cold, if this doesn’t do it I don’t know what will; still on hands and knees I edge into the cubicle and submerge myself in the freezing waterfall. “AH!” I scream, it’s SO cold, each cascading stream stingy my flesh. I stick my head under, letting my hair take the brunt of it until it is soaked through, then rub my hands over my limbs vigorously until I can stand no more.

Exiting the shower I wrap myself up in one of the giant, fluffy towels they provide, it has been nicely warming on the heated rail. I feel so much better, the nausea has lifted and I’m wide awake, there is still a niggling ache at the pit of my stomach, but hopefully it’s nothing that some food and a coffee won’t fix.

Padding through to my bedroom, now wrapped in both the towel and dressing gown, if it weren’t for the air-con I would be sweltering, but as it goes, I am refreshed and comfy in all my towel based attire.

Picking up the phone I request Room 442 from the receptionist, who has taken to asking how I am and addressing me by name, I must remember to find out her name so I can extend the same courtesy.

Carlos answers breezy as ever “Hey sweetness, how you feeling today?” Sweetness? This is new, “I’m a little worse for wear, but I’ll survive” I answer, down playing my war wounds, “thanks for being such a gentleman and escorting me back to my room, I am forever indebted to you” I joke.

“Escorting you?” he asks in turn, “sweet, I carried you! You passed out in the bar so I figured the least I could do is put you to bed, don’t you remember any of it?” there’s a hint of knowing in his voice, oh no, I did do something stupid!

“Umm…well no, I remember being at the bar, but it all gets a little vague after that” I admit, “did I do anything embarrassing?” I ask unconvinced that I want to hear the answer.

“Err…..” I can tell he is weighing up whether to tell me or not, this is bad. “No not embarrassing exactly, it was nothing really” Oh God, if it was nothing he would just come out and say it, the more I hassle him for information, the more he proves reluctant to give any details.

“Look Carlos” I say assertively, “you’ve made such a big deal about not telling me that I’m really worried now, so you have to put me out of my misery, or I’m just going to obsess about it constantly, so come on, spill!” I play my last card.

“Ok, ok” he finally relents, “but it’s really not a big deal ok? I was putting you to bed and I kissed your forehead, you rolled over, smacked me in the face as you did and then mumbled something about leaving you alone” that’s not so bad at all, I don’t know why he didn’t want to say that, I wish I hadn’t walloped him, but in fairness you should always be cautious about disturbing a passed out drunk girl, “and you called me Jake” he finishes. Oh. I don’t know what to say to that, I didn’t think he had been on my mind, I mean I know the thought popped up when I first met Carlos, but after that I’ve been so swept up with him I’ve barely had time to think of anything else. Clearly though, my subconscious has had other ideas.

“Really?” I ask in a choked whisper.

“Yes, but like I said it’s no big deal, I mean if you had begged him to come to bed with you, then I would have been offended, but like I say you batted me away and told me to leave you alone, for that sentiment I can except a slap in the face on his behalf” he tries to make light of the situation.

“I’m sorry” is all I can think to say.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, really, it’s fine” his voice sounds genuine, “I would love to see you again, but I’m going away for a few days, my sister is getting married, but can I see you when I get back?” my stomach does a back flip, he wants to see me again; I know I planned on playing it cool, but in hindsight that was never going to happen.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, you’ve never mentioned her before?” I question, “We don’t always see eye to eye, but I figure I should make an effort for her wedding,” he explains, “you met her, she was the one with me when I saw you before our first date.” so that’s who the mystery woman was, now I can see the resemblance, they are both dark featured beauties.

“Oh yeah,” I try and sound flippant, not letting on the raging jealousy I had felt when I saw her, “so when will you be back?” I ask changing the subject back to us.

“I should be back by Monday” he offers, my shoulders drop, Monday is five days away, what am I going to do with myself for five long Carlos free days?

“Monday, Ok” I try but fail to keep the disappointment from my voice.

“I feel the same way” he says in response to my tone, “if I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t, I’d much rather be spending the time with you, especially as I think you owe me something special after assaulting me last night!” he says giggling away. I can’t help but laugh, his giggle is contagious “Oh you do, do you? Well in that case I’m glad I have five days to come up with something good, I’ve got som
e
bi
g
shoes to fill following your act” I say, pun intended.

“Yeah you do” he avidly agrees, “I’m going to miss your delectable company Ms. Mavers” I want to say I will miss him, but I’m not sure if that’s too much? He only expressed a sadness for the loss of my company, not me specifically, I chicken out, “You can always call me while you’re away?” I offer as consolation instead.

“I will call you every day” he states without hesitation.

With that we say our goodbyes, him promising to call me later tonight. As I put the phone down my stomach ache is replaced by giddy excitement. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way about anyone; in a long term relationship you quickly loose the fire of those first few months, settling into a mundane routine all too soon and unless you really make the effort to keep that spark alive, it’s so easy to forget that original enthusiasm that first drew you both together.

My mind settles on an image of Jake, our own ‘honeymoon period’ is little more than a faded memory now, I assume we must have gone through it, the same as every new relationship, but it’s joy has long since been dampened by the sorrow that followed.