Then we're off.
I give her the impulse, and she spins and lands safely in her position. Even though she's two arm lengths away, I feel her incredible energy. With every step she takes, she transmits it more and more to me. We assume the mambo position and start dancing as one.
Within a few beats, we merge into one unit. Harmoniously, we move to the music. Even our breaths are in sync.
And the way she looks at me...
I draw her close to me, pressing our hips together. Heat spreads through me, and she sends a tingling sensation of a million tiny electric sparks all over my body.
What is happening here?
She smiles and sways her hips.
Perfect, my mind judges.
Exhilarating, my heart whispers, and suddenly, I feel it everywhere: I am dancing the mambo of my life.
Passionately. Effortlessly.
Sensuously.
Our gazes meet repeatedly. Each time, the emotions that Aurora stirs in me become more intense. We move together with complete ease, and I just have to feel her in my arms to know she's not nervous or afraid.
Does she, too, feel like we're dancing alone in this ballroom? Does she imagine a single spotlight following our movements as if we were on a show stage?
I savor it.
There's only us, and the magic that connects us goes beyond the physical.
Far too quickly, the music approaches its climax. I don't know what her choreography has in store, but it doesn't matter anymore. No matter how subtle the signals I give her are, she understands them instantly. One variation follows another, and when she turns back to me again, I raise my eyebrows in question.
She grins mischievously.
Yes. We're thinking the same thing.
With a powerful push, I release her from my arms and continue moving in the mambo steps until her turns come to an end about ten yards away from me.
Then I open my arms.
She walks toward me.
Normally, I would calculate her takeoff point in my mind, but my legs position themselves on their own.
It's as if my body instinctively knows where it needs to be and what to do.
In an instant, she's by my side.
I bend slightly at the knees, and my palms find her hips. Our movements flow into each other, the music intensifies one last time. She pushes off the ground, and in an instant, she's above me.
Her body tension is impressive, yet she appears so carefree as if she could effortlessly fly away from her position.
To the rhythm of the music, which becomes calmer again, I let her glide down. The last gentle notes play as her shoes touch the floor.
Silence falls. Our dance is over.
Seconds pass before I realize that I should let her go. Also, I should stop fixating on her lips, which is inappropriate. I must immediately stop imagining what it would be like to kiss her now.
But the truth is, all I feel inside is an urgent desire to do exactly that.
