“Perfect. I’ll be ready. Oh, Ella…this is so romantic! A handsome French painter who’s a flamenco dancer, too. Sweeping you off your feet with his charisma and charm. What a memorable summer this will be!” Yelena swooned with vicarious delight.
“I know… I still can’t believe it.” Ella shook her head in disbelief and headed out the door. “See you soon!” With a spring in her step, she practically danced down the hall.
A half hour later, Yelena and Ella strolled gaily down the cobbled stone street to theTablao Flamencowhere a smiling Élodie led them into the gilded purple glow of the cave-like hall.
Clad in the traditional white shirt and black pants, an amiable waiter served them a bottle ofMeursault—the same dry, white burgundy wine that Jean-Luc had selected when he’d brought Ella here the last time. The delectable appetizer was a puff pastry filled withescalibada—warm goat cheese and roasted onions, and theplat principalwas grilled salmon with sweet potato purée. For dessert, an intriguing blend of five chocolate confections completed the sumptuous meal.
As the waiters throughout thetablaocleared the tables, musicians and flamenco dancers came onto the stage in preparation for the impending performance. A hush fell across the audience as the guitarists, percussionists, and violinists began to play a slow, romantic melody.
Five female dancers in brightly colored dresses with tiers of cascading ruffles started swaying, their arms circling overhead, their bodies interpreting the emotional theme of the music. As the tempo increased, the thick, pointed black heels of the dancers’ shoes frapped frenetically against the wooden stage floor in precise, intricate footwork that punctuated the rhythm of the drums.
When their dance ended, the five flamenco performers retreated to the back of the theater amid tremendous applause as Jean-Luc made his entrance upon the stage.
Brilliant purple beams focused on him in the spotlight, while the musicians and other dancers lingered in darkened shadows.
He was dressed entirely in black, his long dark hair cascading loosely over his shoulders, hanging down his expansive back. Form-fitting pants clung to his long legs, emphasizing the bulging muscles in his powerful thighs. An open jacket with long tuxedo tails revealed his bare, sculpted torso and rippled abdomen, where the familiar tattoo of the flamenco dancer twirled sensuously up his left side.
Ella’s breath hitched as she beheld him. He was magnificent. Intoxicating. Mesmerizing.
As three guitarists began playing, the purple lights illuminated them, and Jean-Luc moved in rhythm with the slow, plaintive melody. He extended his arms and raised them high overhead, lifting the sides of his jacket like windswept wings of an eagle about to take flight. Undulating his hips as his arms joined together over his head, he lifted an impassioned face to the sky, the melancholy notes of the music evoking the suffering of his soul.
He clenched a fist high above his upturned face, pulling his hand down slowly, opening his fingers to trace his forehead, bearded chin, and elongated, exposed neck. He stopped the descent of his hand from the sky to form a fist clenched protectively over his vulnerable heart. Wrapping the sides of his jacket to envelop his torso, like a wounded hawk tucking its wings, Jean-Luc raised an anguished face to the crowd.
And penetrated Ella with piercing, impassioned eyes.
The music increased in tempo, the flamenco dancers in the background clapping in rhythm with the drums, as Jean-Luc slammed the heels of his pointed black boots against the wooden stage, his body as much of a percussion instrument as thecajónitself. Swirling around the stage, he lifted the sides of his jacket like a swooping swan, bending at the waist and flinging his hair back as he lifted his torso, his feet matching the frenetic rhythm of the beat.
Building in crescendo, the staccato of the violins amplified Jean-Luc’s intense, intricate footwork while the woeful wails of the singer cried out in pain. Faster and faster, his feet frapped against the stage as he approached Ella, the intensity building like an impending climax. He removed his jacket, his tattooed skin glistening under the bright lights, and flung it provocatively at her.
Ella caught it, clutching the jacket against her breast, barely able to breathe.
Half-naked, feet flying, legs pounding the wooden floor, Jean-Luc danced magnificently before her.
Beckoning. Beguiling. Bewitching.
With his gleaming skin, piercing eyes, and heaving breath, it was as if he were making love to her, his impassioned gaze penetrating her very soul.
In the throes of climax, he spun in tight, dizzying circles, arms outstretched at his sides, feet slamming against the stage. When the music ended, he halted abruptly in front of her, the sudden silence a profound, amplifying effect.
Bowing to her like a chivalrous knight before his beloved queen, Jean-Luc lifted his powerful, bent torso. Flicked his hair to slap against his broad, bare back. And flung droplets in a spray of sweat across Ella’s enthralled face.
As if—in his sensuous, passionate dance—he had come all over her.
Breathless, Ella’s pulse pounded furiously, mesmerized by his fierce, feral gaze.
Dark, seductive eyes held her fast as intense heat spread like wildfire throughout Ella’s body, molten liquid pooling between her trembling thighs.
Smoldering, sizzling, and scorching, the flames of flamenco ignited her inner core.
While Ella sat, stunned and stupefied by Jean-Luc’s devastating dance, the final flamenco performance—a festivebulería—concluded the evening event.
After erupting in raucous cheers and wildly enthusiastic applause, the appreciative audience began filtering out of the cave-liketablao,theirsmiling faces indicating their obvious enjoyment of the evening.
While they waited for Jean-Luc to change in the backstage dressing room, Yelena leaned across the table to hug Ella in breathless delight. “That was fantastic! I have never seen a flamenco performance before. It was incredible. And Jean-Luc’s dance? Oh, Ella…it was magnificent! So personal… so intimate.” She squeezed Ella’s hand, her eyes shining with awe. “You’ll remember this unforgettable night for the rest of your life.”
Ella downed the rest of her wine and spotted Jean-Luc heading toward the table. He’d changed into a black t-shirt and faded jeans, and his damp hair was combed away from his bearded face, tumbling over his shoulders and down his back. With agile grace and simmering strength, he strode purposefully across thetablao, his dark eyes fixed upon Ella.
Her breath hitched in anticipation as he swooped down to lift her off the chair and into his arms. His warm, full lips swallowed hers, his corded arms wrapping around her back, pulling her into a full-body embrace that made her swoon. Nuzzling her neck, he finally came up for air, dark eyes dancing with desire as he whispered, “I danced just for you,mon coeur.”
