A hard slash of leather
purse over her shoulder
tongue traces her teeth
glimpsed in the mirror
she turns and heads into
the steamy dark dance hall
He is laughing in a crowd
of buddies at the bar
sees her approaching
takes a quick sip
wipes his lips shrugs
his shoulders into his jacket
walks over to her.
His right hand slides around
her waist, his left grips her
shoulder and he whispers
in her ear: “Let’s go.”
“Not yet,” she says, licking
his ear. “I want to dance.”
Their bodies close, tight
they dance a slow tango,
urging their opposite
agendas: he pulling
stepping out, she pulling
clinging close, breathing
warm on his neck.
She feels him relax, knows
she has him, smiles. Looks over
his shoulder at Lenny, the other
guy, near the pillar. “I want to go,”
he whispers into her ear.
“not yet, Sonny,” she pleads,
hugging him closer. “Soon.”
“Yeah, soon,” he says.
“End of this cha-cha.”
“It’s a slow tango,” she says.
“Who cares?” he says. “Let’s go.”
The music ends. He leaves.
She hitches her purse
and walks over to Lenny.
