by Celia Styles
The class ended a few minutes later and Nicolás disappeared as he had that first night, the students laughing and talking as they filed out the door. And then she was alone.
Roni got up and moved to the center of the dance floor, her heels clicking against the well varnished floor, to stand in front of one wall of mirrors. The curtains over the wall of windows were drawn tonight for some reason, so it was like she was standing in front a dark backdrop, the contrast giving a certain emphasize to her pale skin and her auburn hair. She rarely felt pretty, didn’t like to look at herself in the mirror, but tonight…there was something about being here, about it being her final lesson, that seemed to be giving her a confidence and courage she rarely felt.
She set her arms in the proper frame and began to dance, gliding at a slower pace than Nicolás usually led her in, practicing the basic four step-slide with the addition of the corte—the rocking step—and turns that Nicolás had taught her. She would never be as good as his competition partners, not even as good as an amateur dancer, but it felt good to move her body with a hint of grace rather than the clumsy, stumbling movements that were the norm for her.
She didn’t hear Nicolás come in, didn’t see him come up behind her until he was there, his hands on her hips as he expertly caught up to her movements and began to move in perfect rhythm with her. There was no music, he’d turned it off when the last class ended. But they didn’t seem to need music.
Roni pressed her hands to the top of his, leaned her head back so that it rested on his shoulder. He lowered his head, his lips so close to her throat that his breath seemed to wash over her with a heat that made her belly liquefy. And then his hands were moving, exploring her, touching her in places she’d always imagined, but never really believed he would.
She couldn’t dance any more. Her mind was lost, her thoughts only about his touch, his closeness, his scent. She turned into him and his mouth found hers, the taste of him sending waves of pleasure through her body that seemed to explode on her nerve endings, like little fireworks exploding over and again throughout her nervous system.
She wrapped her hand in his shirt, her other hand sliding over the curve of his ass, loving the feel of his muscles trembling. He pushed her back, shoved her up against the mirrors, the coldness of them seeping in through the back of her thin shirt. The contrast of his hands sliding under the same shirt was pure pleasure. She tugged at his shirt, pleased when he stepped back just slightly to help her take it from his body. And then his chest…so incredible, those muscles, the firmness of him, the darkness of his caramel colored skin…she wanted to feel every inch of it, wanted to taste it.
She pulled him close to her again with hands on his hips, kissed his throat, his shoulder. He ran his hands through her hair, tugging her hair tie away so that her long hair fell over her shoulders. He held her cradled against him as she kissed down the length of his chest and then he pulled her back up, stole her lips again.
Roni would be lying if she didn’t admit that she’d had fantasies like this, that she would watch his videos and imagine what it would be like to feel his touch, to feel the excitement her touch could bring to his body. But she never honestly believed it would happen.
Her hands shook as he again pressed her hard against the mirrors, as he lifted her leg over his hip and pressed himself roughly against her. She could feel the hard outline of his cock, could feel his need in the racing pulse beating in his throat, in the mild tremor in his hands as he ran them up over her ribs, as he pressed his fingers under the tight, lower band of her sports bra.
And then…
“Hey, Nicolás, do you know where…”
Nicolás groaned as he turned his head to acknowledge Ignacio’s interruption. “I told you to stay upstairs,” he said, his voice a breathless growl.
“Yeah, sorry.”
Ignacio looked embarrassed and Nicolás seemed angry. It all brought reality down on Roni’s head like a falling tree. She slid out from under Nicolás’ arms, mumbled something about needing to get home.
“Wait,” Nicolás said, grabbing her arm. “Don’t go.”
She looked at him and she really wanted to stay. Really, really wanted to stay. But then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, of her short, rounded figure next to his athletic perfection and the confidence she’d felt earlier just melted away.
The moment had passed.
And that made her want to cry.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, pulling away, running to the door, not bothering to stop and grab her bag. She just had to get out of there.
Chapter 5
Roni went home for the weekend. She hadn’t seen her mother in months. It was nice to sit at the kitchen table and listen to her mother talk about her students, her teachers, and all the things that made her long days bearable. It was like moving back in time, becoming something more innocent than she had ever really been.
But it wasn’t just a need to recharge, to be her mother’s daughter again. It was also an overwhelming embarrassment that she couldn’t quite move past. Whenever she closed her eyes, whenever she was alone for longer than a few minutes, whenever her thoughts were able to take control of her consciousness, Nicolás was always right there. The taste of his lips, the feel of his hands, the warmth of his flesh. And then she would look at herself in the mirror and wonder why a man like that would see anything in a girl like her.
She couldn’t look at his videos now, not now that she’d spoken to him, not now that she knew him as more than as just a graceful dancer on a computer screen. But she would forever have the image of his dance partners burned into her mind. They were all tall, slender women, Latin women who were as different from Roni as anyone could possibly imagine. She wasn’t tall, she wasn’t graceful. Her body would not look elegant in one of those skin tight dresses tango dancers wore—her hips were too wide, her breasts too full. And the dance…she would never dance like that.
So why had Nicolás kissed her?
If she’d told her mother about it, she would say that Roni was a wonderful person and Nicolás clearly saw that. Sue would tell her that she was over analyzing it. Callie and Jane would say she was an idiot for walking away, that all these things didn’t matter.
Maybe they were right. Maybe she did analyze things too much. She had never been able to just sit back and enjoy anything without picking out all the flaws. Sue hated watching movies with her because she always picked apart the plot even as it was unfolding. Callie stopped taking her to clubs because Roni would find fault with all the guys she thought were hot. She just…she was not impulsive. She had to know why about everything.
Perhaps it was best that her lessons had come to an end. At least she wouldn’t have to face Nicolás again after that little fiasco.
But that, of course, was before she got up to go to work Monday morning and realized that she’d left her bag at his studio. Her bag that just happened to have her wallet, her car keys, and her hundred dollar pair of sneakers inside of it.
“How did you not know your wallet was missing?” Sue asked. “You don’t drive much, so I get the car keys. But your wallet? How did you get on the bus without it?”
“I had that ticket my mom sent back at Christmas. I didn’t need my wallet.”
Sue shook her head. “Why did you leave it at the studio, anyway?”
Roni pushed past Sue where she stood just inside her bedroom door, grabbing her laptop bag as she did. “It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it? You were just taking tango lessons.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Did something happen, Roni?” Sue followed her through the apartment. “Did he do something inappropriate?”
“Of course not.”
Sue stared at her for a minute. “You came home and locked yourself in your room, then you were gone before I got up the next morning. And now…” Sue crossed her arms over her chest, blocking the front door so that Roni couldn’t get out of the apartme
nt. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”
Roni could see from Sue’s fierce expression that she wasn’t getting out of there until she said something. It pissed her off, having to explain herself to someone who wasn’t even—but, then again, it was nice to know her friend, her roommate since their freshman year of college, cared enough to ask questions even Roni’s mother hadn’t thought to ask.
Not that her mom had any inkling of what was happening in Roni’s life, as lost in her own problems as she was.
“Nothing,” Roni repeated. “I guess I was just a little upset that it was over. You know how long I’ve admired Nicolás…”
Sue’s expression softened. She drew Roni in for a hug. “Sorry, kiddo,” she said. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
She pulled back and stroked Roni’s cheek softly. “Do you want me to run by the studio and pick up your bag? I can go at lunch time.”
It seemed like a good idea. Roni almost agreed. But then…a part of her really wanted to see Nicolás again, if only to leave a better last impression. And maybe to apologize for acting like a child when Ignacio caught them.
“I’ll go. After work.”
Sue hesitated, but then she nodded. “Hey, maybe you could talk to him about extending your lessons. I could pay for another couple of weeks, if you want.”
“Thanks.”
But she knew that wasn’t happening.
Chapter 6
There were some benefits to working with her college friends. She always had someone to go to lunch with. There was always someone to complain to when the boss was being difficult. And there was always someone willing to take up the slack when she was falling behind on a deadline.
But there was a downside, too.
“So, what was it like? Was he really as sexy as he looks in those videos?”
“Did his palms sweat?”
“Was he mean when you missed a step?”
“How many times did you trip and fall?”
They thought they were really funny with all their questions. She had thought it would stop when the lessons ended, but they seemed just as curious today as they had been last week.
Their questions rolled around in Roni’s head as she stood outside the studio, watching through the glass wall as Nicolás finished up with his Monday night class. He seemed a little weary, like it had been a long day. But that did nothing to detract from the grace of his movements, the authority he commanded with just a look, a barked word. He was truly admired. And desired. It was impossible to miss the way these women looked at him, the way they flaunted their assets in an attempt to get his attention. She’d found it pathetic before. Now…she was ashamed to think that she was the same as the rest of them.
She stood in the shadows—feeling something like a stalker—as the class ended and Nicolás pulled the dark curtains over the front windows. The students piled out, each headed to a car or a little diner down the street, laughing and gossiping, Nicolás’ name on more lips than not. And still she waited. She wasn’t sure why.
Then music began to flow from the building.
He must have a private student.
For some reason, that idea put steel in her spine. Maybe it was a touch of jealousy. Or maybe it was just the idea that she was only one of many. Whatever it was, it gave her the courage to yank open the door and step inside.
And the sight that awaited her was breathtaking.
Nicolás was dancing a complicated tango with so many turns and difficult steps that she couldn’t keep track of what it was, exactly, that his body was doing. It was different from anything she’d seen in his competition videos, an elevation of his best performance. The music was sensual, a flowing of notes that brought erotic thoughts to mind. And he was giving those notes life, interpreting them with the movements of his amazing body. It probably helped that he’d stripped out of his shirt, his shoes, only those tight jazz pants covering the perfection of his body.
The most incredible thing of the whole sight, though, was the fact that he wasn’t dancing alone, nor was he dancing with a woman. It was Ignacio, also stripped to nothing but a pair of gray sweat pants, who Nicolás held in his arms.
It should have been disturbing to her Christian upbringing to see these two men take so much pleasure from each other’s bodies. But it wasn’t. It was exotic. It was grace personified. It was one of the sexiest things she had ever seen.
She couldn’t move. She felt like she should leave them to it, like she was watching a couple in the midst of foreplay and she was some sort of voyeur, invading their privacy. But she couldn’t make herself step away. It was like seeing a masterpiece for the first time—like standing in the Louvre in front of the Mona Lisa. She couldn’t take her eyes from them.
The music—and the dance—moved into a crescendo. She gasped as both Nicolás and Ignacio executed some of the most impressive dance moves she had ever seen. And then the song ended with Nicolás on his knee and Ignacio standing over him like a king lauding over his loyal servant.
And then Nicolás laughed as Ignacio helped him to his feet. Nicolás moved easily into his arms, his head tilted back just slightly as Ignacio looked down at him. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, a long moment that should have told Roni what was coming next. But she was so lost in the memory of the dance, in the sight of their masculinity, that her mind couldn’t quite comprehend what she was seeing.
Their kiss was passionate, as hot as the dance had been, their touch screaming a familiarity with one another that only came with time. They were so clearly lovers, yet it had never occurred to Roni that they were anything more than the most masculine men she’d ever met.
She must have made a noise as she turned to leave, the burn of a shameful blush already staining her cheeks. She had her hand on the front door when Nicolás grabbed her arm.
“Veronica,” he said, still breathless from the dance. Or was it from Ignacio’s touch?
“I just…I was just leaving.”
“No, please, don’t go.”
She shook her head even as her hand dropped from the door’s handle. “I just came for my bag. It has my wallet, my keys…” Her blush deepened as he took a step closer to her. “I just…I wanted to apologize—“
“You have nothing to apologize for. It was my fault.”
She started to shake her head again, but then Ignacio came around the corner of the studio. His expression was as kind and apologetic as Nicolás’ and, for some reason, that made her feel guilty.
“I didn’t know. If I had…”
“You don’t understand,” Nicolás said.
“I knew what he was going to do,” Ignacio said. “We talked about it the night I first met you.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
Nicolás touched her face, cradled her cheek in his palm. “You are a beautiful woman, Veronica. We both think you are very erótico…”
“No…”
“Oh, yes,” Nicolás sighed as he moved closer to her, lifting her face so that he could kiss her. The brush of his lips took her breath. The feel of his hand pressing into her hair, drawing her close to his hard chest was like winning the lottery.
“I want you,” Nicolás whispered as his lips brushed over her jaw, as he nibbled lightly at her earlobe. “We both want you.”
“I don’t…” Roni pulled back, breaking the hold Nicolás had on her. “What do you mean?”
“Come,” Ignacio said, holding out his hand to her. Nicolás stepped back, a soft smile on his lips. Roni’s head was spinning. She didn’t understand what was happening.
Ignacio drew her back into the studio. She thought she heard the front door lock, was very sure she heard Nicolás pull the shade down over the glass door. They were suddenly in a room where no one could see them, where no one could interrupt them. She should have been frightened. Instead, she found herself slipping into Ignacio’s arms as he began to move in a slow, sim
ple dance step.
His skin had a layer of sweat over it, the saltiness of it strong enough that she could smell it. His skin was lighter than Nicolás’, more of a soft tan. His eyes were lighter, too, blue like the sky, a lovely contrast to Nicolás’ near black. He was taller, too, wider. They were so different, but both so handsome, so charming. And graceful. Roni had never danced any better than she did in either of their arms.
Ignacio twirled her around and then drew her back against his chest, his hand sliding with excruciating patience down the length of her spine. When he touched her ass under the slim cut of her skirt, her nipples hardened even more than they had done before, her clit stiffening so quickly that she imagined she could actually feel it growing.
And then Nicolás came up behind them and pressed his body against her back, his hands sliding around to tug at the careful tuck of her plain white blouse. His lips brushed against her shoulder, his chin pushing her hair away so that he could gain access to her neck. Ignacio tugged at the back of her skirt, his fingers working the button that kept his fingers from the zipper.
“Wait. I don’t understand…”
Nicolás groaned even as Ignacio lifted her chin so that she was looking into the depths of those gorgeous eyes.
“We want you,” he said softly. “That’s all there is to it.”
“But aren’t you gay?”
Ignacio smiled.
“We prefer not to label ourselves,” Ignacio said. “We love each other, but we also appreciate the beauty of a woman’s body. And yours…” He groaned. “I can’t believe he was able to keep his hands off of you for as long as he did.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Nicolás said, his lips still so close to her ear.
And then there were hands everywhere, Nicolás tugging at the buttons on her blouse, Ignacio jerking the zipper at the back of her skirt. She’d never done anything this insane before, never imagined a man like Nicolás would want her, let alone a man as magnificent as Ignacio. She wouldn’t let her mind go there, wouldn’t let herself think about what was about to happen, what was about to play out in this room she’d so wanted to enter for so long…if she had only known what was waiting for her.