A dance story – 1. Stud on the dance floor

Tall he was, and thin, just the way I liked them.  Green eyes, pastel suit, and vintage tweed cap to match.  He sure was putting on a show, swirling and twirling that curly brunette.  His long leg up against a pillar, then on a chair, then on the stage.  Casually standing still in the middle of the dance floor.  A flickering ball of lights above bringing out the best of him as he spun his lady this way and that with imperceptible gestures. I could not take my eyes off him.  I had never seen anything like it before.  He was the kind of guy my mother should probably have warned me about.  But she never expected me to ever find myself in a club.  I was the good one in the family.  But I hadn’t been for a while now.

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