The Argentine Tango


Seated at the bar. Hands touch. Soft... passionate. Knees bump. Thighs pulsate. Eyes meet. Jet black hair. Red lipstick. Teardrop earrings. Hot Argentine tango lives within her. Two lover's hands interlock. She wears a tight, red, open back dress. Seductive and gorgeous like the woman inside. Sparkling, like fireflies, the two of you flitter about.

You spin. You dip. You Argentine kick. Your palm runs up her thigh. Her waist. Her arm, until... It brushes her cheek. Lips touch. Breath hot. Hearts beat. Rapid fire... Thank you God for bringing us together. The first time. The last time. This time.

She laughs. You hear more music. You smile. Your mind dances like Gene Kelly. Tap, tap, tap. Soft shoe tapping. Dancing in the rain...

"Want to get out of here?" You ask, willfully. Stomach knotted. Filled with butterflies. Like an eighth grader at his first school dance.

Coquettish smile. "More than you know."

You follow her out of the bar. Your eyes mesmerized by her walk.

"Where to?" She asks.

"Let's follow the stars. Hop in."

She's next to you. First gear. Then second. The radio is silent. Third gear. Listen to the tires on the road. Fourth gear.

You drive past open fields, past those  accumulated memories.

"Look up, into the heavens. At the stars. They sparkle against the backdrop of the infinite universe."

"They're gorgeous."

"Let's go outside," you say.

Your hand lay in mine
I love you more than you know
I have all I need

She steps out of the car. Hands on her narrow waist, you lift her onto the hood.

Lying there. Crickets chirp and  owls hoot. She nuzzles her face into your chest.

"This is great," she says. "I feel so connected. To you. Your soul. To everything."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's perfect."

"Will you marry me?"