by ML Michaels
“A dance show, more specifically,” she recalled through gritted teeth, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “An easy suggestion for an annoyingly graceful little blonde who seems allergic to calories and carbohydrates to make.”
As a bashful and very subdued woman who had skipped her senior prom, Callie had blanched at Angel’s idea of performing at least one group
dance for the show. Yet when her staff members cheered and embraced the idea—blast them—she felt compelled to participate.
“In my time as a domestic violence counselor, I’ve faced just about every major challenge and dilemma that one human being can encounter,” she reasoned, “How tough could a ball change be? And do I even want to know the answer to that question?”
An empathetic Angel had suggested that Callie consult a man who held a reputation as the top dance instructor in the area; a man who gave private lessons at Club Prestige on the north side of town.
“Before you hire him for lessons, you might want to check out the most intriguing dance show that he puts on almost nightly at the club,” Angel suggested, adding with a wink, “Once you see Aidan in action, you’re sure to find yourself inspired—in more ways than one.”
These words now echoed in Callie’s mind, as she continued to marvel over the dancer’s talent and surreal beauty, both of which seemed based in an animal nature and surreal grace that transcended time and place.
Somehow morphing the clean lined but very basic floor of a neighborhood bar into the central stage of a seasoned ballet performance, Aidan completed his current routine by launching his lithe but muscular body into a series of artful twists and turns that—or so she believed—would make Godunov or Baryshnikov proud.
The crowd roared as, with a graceful leap, the beautiful dancer flew upward to launch his body into the spiral of a radiant arch, flying higher than seemed humanly possible as the cheers of the crowd became almost deafening.
Callie lifted her arms as she too cheered on the theatrics of the marvel before her, balling her fists and giving voice to a spirited, “Woot! Woot!” even as she secretly worried that the poor fellow would smash his noggin on the ceiling that loomed too close above him.
She then watched with a smile—intermingled with no small degree of abject relief—when a beaming Aidan landed smooth on his feet and struck a deep bow before the crowd, standing upright to nod in recognition of the thunderous applause that met the conclusion of an amazing dance performance.
An uneasy silence then overtook the bar as the breezy jazz tune that had supplied the backdrop of that evening’s performance also reached its timely climax leaving in its wake only the sound of clinking glasses and flying darts as clubgoers returned to their usual regime of drinking and light sports.
Callie, for her part, sat down hard in the cushioned seat that bordered her table at the center of the club, biting her lip as she once again faced what was quickly morphing into a perplexing nightly dilemma.
From the night of her first visit to Club Prestige, she’d felt somewhat ill at ease in her new, youth oriented environment, a setting just brimming with slender, sculpted young people who seemed to have achieved an annoying level of genetically improbable perfection.
Although a strong and confident woman who felt comfortable in just about any given situation, Callie could not ignore the quizzical gazes and sardonic smiles that seemed to greet her every time she stepped through the doors of Club Prestige. And she felt particularly leery about approaching the most beautiful of them all, a man that she saw was currently surrounded by an adoring throng of ravishing young females.
“You know what? This is ridiculous,” she decided finally. “I came here a week ago with the sole intention of hiring a dance instructor. Instead I’ve done little more than stand by the sidelines like Bambi in headlights and drool like a teen-ager over the smooth moves of said instructor. I told myself at first that I was only assessing his skills. Well I figure if I do much more assessing, they’ll have to set about wiping my excessive drool off the dance floor for fear that Mr. Twinkle toes will slip and fall, thus breaking the feet that make him his living.”
Coming to a sudden decision, a resolute Callie jumped to her feet and made some smooth moves of her own retrieving her purse from the surface of her table, leaving a generous tip for her server and heading for the door.
Time for the glass carriage to morph back into the handy Ford compact that will take Cinderella back home,” she mused, adding as she made quick strides away from the party room. “I would leave behind a mystical glass sneaker for effect—but, nah, let’s not overdo.”
“Leaving so soon, Madame?”
She froze in her place as her senses were soothed by the tones of a deep sonorous voice, one that resounded close in her ear as she turned to face its source.
Callie took in her breath as she found herself face to face with the star of that evening’s dance show, the statuesque man who regarded her with a knowing smile as he asked her, “Why are you leaving now, Miss? The night is young.”
Callie snorted.
“Well the night may be young, but me? Callie Armstrong? Not so much. At least not in comparison to the Stepford Sorority Sisters whose presence seems to rule this place,” she revealed, adding as she left her watching visitor with a firm but friendly salute, “Great dance show, Dude. Now I have every intention of heading home and catching reruns of Ally McBeal on Lifetime, as per my safe and age appropriate life.”
Aidan chuckled.
“You do indeed seem just a bit different from most of the ladies I meet here on a nightly basis,” he allowed, affirming his words with a vigorous nod. “Quite different indeed.”
Callie pursed her lips.
“Different,” she repeated, adding with arched eyebrows, “Um, thank you?”
She relaxed as Aidan met these words with a melodic guffaw.
“Oh believe me, I mean my words as the highest compliment,” he reassured her, adding as he made a broad derisive gesture across the vast low lit expanse of the busy Club Prestige, “What you see before you, my lady, is a collection of people who dress to impress. They come to this club, not to cut loose and have a good time, but to put on a show. They dress up in their flashy party dresses and expensive jewelry, they pout, they preen, they flirt, they show off the latest dance moves,” he paused here, adding as he pursed his full moist lips in what seemed a show of pure disgust, “but just try to carry on an intelligent conversation with any of these gals, or get them to laugh at a joke.”
Callie nodded.
“You’d probably have better luck trying to start a conversation with any random hat rack in the club coat check room,” she deadpanned, crossing her eyes for effect.
Aidan laughed.
“Indeed, and that’s exactly the difference I’m talking about,” he told her, adding with a broad smile, “From the moment that you walked into
this club a week ago, I could feel your energy and sense of wonder—it spoke to me. You never seem afraid to laugh, smile, and dance in your own special way.”
Callie grinned.
“Dance in my own special way. Well that’s a nice way of putting it,” she snorted, adding with arched eyebrows, “The first night I ever took to the dance floor, it was to perform my own special version of The Electric Slide, learned at the wedding of a second cousin who was at one point a semifinalist on Dance, America Dance!—so you’d think she knew her stuff, right? Well when I took my own swing at the slide right here at Club Prestige, one concerned onlooker rushed headfirst onto the scene, demanding to know if I needed an ambulance or any given form of medical attention.” She gritted her teeth, adding in a thoughtful tone, “On reflection, not a good sign.
She took in her breath as a smiling Aidan held out his hand to her.
“Well I’m guessing that people wouldn’t react that way if you were out there dancing with me,” he assured her, adding as he inclined his head smooth in her direction, “Care to dance?”
Soon a stunned Callie found herself hand in hand with the dream dancer, walking with sure, certain strides in the direction of the dance floor.
Although she did turn for just a moment to toss a smile and a wave in the direction of the stunned young ladies who had mocked her earlier, Callie soon found herself immersed in the animal magnetism of the man beside her, turning to stare deep into eyes turning an electric emerald as he opened his arms to her.
Moving as if in a haze into Aidan’s muscled arms, she took in her breath as he took her body in a strong muscled embrace and swayed her across the surface of the clean tiled dance floor, swinging and twirling her even as he held her closer than close.
Suddenly she realized the forbidden fantasy that had held her captive since the first moment she saw him, the dream of actually touching the phantom that somehow seemed too good to be real.
As Aidan’s strong hands ran like warm water down the surface of her back, his hard massive chest pressed against hers as his hard chiseled hips cradled her own.
He even teased her with some sensual gyrations as his chiseled rear end moved to and fro, exciting her as she moved as one with him at the center of the dance floor.
As the atmosphere brimmed anew with the sound of melodic dance music, this time taking the form of an exotic tropical beat, the couple moved in radiant tandem at all points across the floor seemingly oblivious to the small crowd of onlookers who now gathered to see an encore performance, courtesy of the dancing phantom.
Twirling Callie’s arm high above her head, an ardent Aidan soon enclosed her buxom waist with a cradling hand as he dipped her low, staring deep into her eyes as she trembled outright.
After a solid week of watching his dance performances as a transfixed bystander, she couldn’t believe that she now reigned as the co-star of one of these exquisite displays or that she was beholding the vision of someone who likened an angel in all his ethereal glory.
With her body reclining in the comfort of his arms, she now stared upward to behold a flawless chiseled visage that glowed sheer bronze in the bank of neon lights that lined the ceiling of Club Prestige surrounded as it was by a gorgeous halo of golden blonde hair that set off his emerald eyes to glorious effect.
She could feel every ripple of his sculpted pecs and chiseled washboard abs, both of which bulged through the surface of his couture shirt as he angled his body upward with her in his arms.
Overwhelmed by a wave of sudden emotion that seized her whole, an impassioned Callie suddenly felt the urge to seize control of the dance, wrapping her arms around his muscled shoulders as she writhed suddenly and shamelessly against him.
Growling outright as he enjoyed this bold gesture, Aidan’s green eyes flashed with fire as he pulled her closer to him, the couple’s feet now flying across the floor as their moves hastened and intensified.
Soon the couple whirled together like a spinning sphere, much in the fashion of ice dancers. It was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended, their arms and legs entangling between them as his hips gyrated hard against hers.
Finally, and with a smooth flourish, the couple stilled their feverish movements staring deep into one another’s eyes as the crowd roared around them.
Gracing his dance partner with a long lasting hug, Aiden stepped away from her as they joined hands between them.
“And here you told me you couldn’t dance my lady,” he scolded her, adding as he reached forward to press his warm moist lips soft against her cheek, “You beautiful liar. You have so much natural talent on the floor.”
Callie grinned.
“Why thank you Aidan. I guess I never realized that I had any degree of skill when it came to—to use a highly technical term—hoofing it,” she admitted, adding as she graced him with a shy smile, “I guess I just needed the right partner to bring it out in me. And, truth be told, that is actually why I came to see you dance in the first place.” She paused here, adding in a lower tone, “I did come to this club for the sole purpose of meeting you.”
Aidan arched his eyebrows as he processed this news.
“Did you now?” he asked her, tone soft and flirty as he added, “I am most pleased to hear this.
Feeling her cheeks flush at his velvety tone, Callie told him quickly, “Well to be more specific, I was interested in dance lessons.”
She cringed as she saw a flash of disappointment color his emerald eyes.
“Oh,” he replied, shifting his talented feet beneath him as he cast his gaze downward.
Callie pursed her lips.
“OK, this exceeds the realm of common everyday weirdness. Fabio Astaire here seems mightily offended that I’m only interested in his talents as a dance instructor,” she mused, adding aloud, “Please take note of the fact that I originally came to the club to inquire about dance lessons,” she paused here, adding with a teasing wink, “That doesn’t exactly explain, however, why I’ve come back every night for a solid week.”
Aidan smiled.
“Well now that’s more like it,” he quipped, adding as he once again held out his hand to her, “Come with me, Callie.”
***
Callie soon found herself seated at a remote corner booth at Club Prestige sharing a magnum of sparkling champagne with the man who regarded her with thoughtful eyes.
“So tell me,” he said finally, his full moist lips sipping at the crystal liquid that brimmed free in his flute. “What would inspire a woman with such natural dance talent to take lessons?”
Callie shrugged.
“Well as I said earlier, Aidan, until about 10 minutes ago I was convinced that those all-important traits of grace and flexibility had all but eluded me—indeed, said traits seemed to run screaming in the other direction at the time of my birth, judging from my poor showing at dances and socials,” she explained, adding as she sipped her bubbly with pursed lips, “Thankfully, though, my singular inability to ‘shake my bootie’—or for that matter any other major body part—does not figure in to my ability to succeed at my current position as the executive director of a domestic violence shelter. Until now, that is.” She paused here, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “For our yearly fund-raiser, my young and annoyingly graceful assistant suggested that we stage a flippin’ dance show. So now I have less than a month to learn how to put one foot in front of another—and as a solo act. You won’t be there to make me look good.”
With these words she set aside her flute, looking her companion straight in the eyes as she folded her hands before her on the table.
“Name your price for the schedule of lessons that just might save me from making a complete and total idiot of myself out there on the dance floor,” she commanded, tapping her fingernails on a surface of hard cherry wood.
Pursing his full soft lips in what seemed a show of keen contemplation, a thoughtful Aidan grabbed a nearby cocktail napkin, pulled an ink pen from deep in his pants pocket and set to doodling, even doing a round of air math to assist him in his seemingly complex calculations.
“Well Callie,” he said finally, setting aside his makeshift writing paper and facing her in full. “Depending on how many hours you need for your lessons and what precise dance steps you would be interested in learning, I would say that the total bill for your course of lessons would come to a grand total of zero dollars and zero cents,” he paused here, adding with a sly grin, “Give or take a few dollars.”
Callie shook her head.
“Now although we do seem to be getting on here, I wouldn’t dare dream of denying you your full payment for these lessons,” she insisted, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Once you get a load of my own special version of a ball change, in fact, you might be tempted to charge more than double your usual rate.”
Aidan shook his head.
“While I do admit that I see our dance lessons as an ideal excuse to get to know you better,” he admitted, “I also want to do my part to contribute to a very worthy cause,” he paused here, adding in a soft
er tone, “One that happens to be very close to my heart. When I was a boy, Callie, I’m afraid that my stepfather wasn’t very kind to my mother. I spent far too many nights kissing bruises and bandaging cuts, not to mention cradling her as she cried.”
On impulse Callie reached across the table and covered his hand with hers.
“Oh my God Aidan, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, adding as she inclined her head in his direction, “How is she today?”
Aidan smiled.
“Amazing,” he affirmed, voice glowing with pride. “When I was 21, I confronted my stepfather and helped her escape a house that had morphed into a hellhole. We fled our home state of New York one night on a bus, and somehow ended up here in Florida. Now she lives in a condo just five miles away from me. I still take care of my mama.”
Returning his smile, Callie squeezed his fingers between hers as she affirmed, “That’s wonderful Aidan, she must be so proud of you.” She paused here, adding as she bit her lip, “I myself escaped an abusive relationship in college. It was this awful experience that first inspired me to start a shelter in this area. When my boyfriend hit me that last time, Aidan, I wasn’t sure what to do or where to turn. And he swore that no matter where I ran, he would find me—and it would likely be the last thing I ever did. I never wanted another woman or child to feel the way that I did that day. I wanted every woman to feel like she had a safe place to go….”
She broke off here as her companion surged across the table, acting on impulse as he seared her lips with a hot passionate kiss.
His full moist lips massaging hers in long intense strokes, Aidan angled his head over hers to intensify their kiss, plying her mouth with the greatest affection as their hands clenched on the table.
Leaning into his kiss, an impassioned Callie felt her public surroundings dissolve around her as their tongues joined between them, the bond they sensed earlier seeming to seal and bind as he continued to kiss her senseless. And as their tongues entwined tight, she felt her tip graze a back tooth that felt unnaturally sharp in texture.
