by T A Ford
“MR. WALSH?”
He looked up from this computer screen. His secretary Molly smiled at him. “You have an appointment at five today?”
“I do?” he asked. Cue removed his glasses. “Damn? Is it 4:30 already?”
“Yes Mr. Walsh, you will need to get ahead of traffic and leave.”
“Right,” he sighed. He had told his secretary to pencil him in for the Flamenco Dancing Academy in Midtown. Now he had to get moving to be on time.”
She stared at him with a strange smile on her lips.
“What is it Molly?”
“I didn’t know you like flamenco dancing? It’s a very sexy artform. Especially for men.”
He frowned. She flushed with embarrassment at his reaction and promptly left his office. “Fuck,” he muttered. Cue opened his drawer. He removed his bottle of whiskey and shot glass. He poured himself a fresh drink and rocked back in his chair. The last thing he wanted to do was a sexy artform. He was a meat and potatoes kind of guy with two left feet. He liked football, pussy, and steak, in that order. The things he did now for friendship had put his sanity into question. He drank the whiskey and poured himself another taste for the road. When he was done, he put the bottle and glass back in his secret hiding place.
“Hola, linda. ¿Cómo estás?”
Dina turned her head in the direction of the sound of his voice. She had just pulled off her shirt. She was in her lace bra and black tights, which she wore with no panties. Typically, her long dance skirt covered the tights and no one would see her butt cheeks or camel toe. Matteo gave her one of his appreciative smiles. He didn’t turn away from her undressed state. She was used to his long stares and impromptu appearances in the dressing room when she changed clothes alone. It didn’t bother her. He never meant any harm. He was a man. And men were weak when it came to women they were attracted too, she assumed.
“Hi Matteo,” she said. “I’m almost dressed.”
“You come early for me?” he asked.
She nodded. She walked over and gave him a hug. Matteo was known for his hugs, too. Especially with the ladies. Of course, she knew each time he hugged her he wanted more. The way he smelled her hair and rubbed his jaw against her cheek. He whispered in her ear when he gave her private lessons. Always in Spanish, but she understood the connotation. She could sleep with him. She knew he wanted it. But if she had anything romantic with him it would just end bad. She preferred to keep their working relationship professional. He squeezed her to him and kissed her face and neck while his hand went down her backside.
She moved away before his hand descended too far. “We have a new class.”
“Yes, and you are my star pupil, no?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll get finished dressing and come out and warm up with you,” she said, as he located her leotard and skirt from her bag. He didn’t leave. And she suspected he wouldn’t. She finished getting ready while he watched.
CUE HEADED FOR THE backroads to take him into Midtown. He avoided the Atlanta gridlock traffic expertly. The GPS was his compass. While sitting at a traffic light he dialed his mother to give her the daily check-in he promised her.
“Clinton?” she answered on the first ring.
“Hi Ma.”
“Oh hi, son. How are you? I was hoping you would call today.”
“I call you every day,” he chuckled.
“I know,” she said. “But today I have news.”
“Really? Give it to me. What’s up?”
“Bridget is back.”
“Is she?” he mumbled. He had only been in true love once. And that was one time too many. He had been about to ask Bridget to marry him when she announced that his personal issues were too much for her and instead of marriage she intended to accept a position as the ambassador to some sovereign nation he had never heard of. As a psychiatrist he understood the co-dependency he put on her, and her need to separate. But as a man he couldn’t understand how his woman could walk away from him so easily and cut him off completely.
“How do you know she’s back?”
“She came by yesterday. She’s so beautiful, Clinton. You have to see her. She asked about you. I told her you moved your office to Atlanta just a month ago. She wants to call you. Can I give her your new number?”
He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Bridget still had that kind of hold over his heart. “Let me get settled first. Text me her number and I’ll call her. I got a lot going on. Okay?”
“Oh darling, she just wants to say hi. That’s all. And she was so sweet, asking if you were happy and married. I saw a spark in her Clinton. She’s still got feelings for you.”
“Yeah, yes, I heard you.”
“Are you eating well? Sleeping well?” his mother asked.
“I’m fine. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. Okay?”
“Good. The family is coming. Your brothers, everyone. So make sure to get your plane ticket now. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”
“Will do. Love you, Ma.”
“Love you too sweetie, bye.”
Bridget returning to Maine was a surprise. They had lived together in Boston, where he had his practice at Massachusetts General Hospital. The only reason she went to Maine had to be for that visit with his mother. He’d seen some of her life on social media, and she seemed to be enjoying it quite well without him. He refused to let her renewed interest fool him into opening up communication with her again. He had his pride.
Cue drove up into the parking deck of the dance studio and shut off the lights. There were several cars. The sight of them made his stomach churn. The one thing he hadn’t counted on was the fact that others might witness his rhythmless dancing. “What have you gotten yourself into man?”
A bit leery of what awaited him, he delayed getting out of the car for several long minutes. Long enough to build his courage for his mission. Dina. If a man heard his friend Rodney speak of his sister, he’d imagine her to be some mouse of a young woman no older than seventeen or eighteen. That was not Dina.
She was twenty-five. A petite brown beauty with thick poufy hair that she wore pushed away from her face by some sort of headband. He’d seen every detail of her physical beauty in Panera the day they met. Stared at her flawless beauty and dark lashed eyes. Noticed the tiny mole on her nose and her perfectly straight white teeth. She liked dangly earrings that looked ethnic and hand made. She spoke in a soft but confident manner that made him want to prolong any conversation. Was it the call about Bridget that had him romanticizing the brief encounter with his new patient? He wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, he didn’t practice mingling attraction with clients. Especially one that was a little sister to his closest friend.
Cue got out of the car and walked fast as he left the parking garage. The wind was a bit nippy as he headed to the street and then rounded the building. He had to zip his jacket. But he made it to the door before it closed shut. A woman approached.
“Buenas tardes. Welcome to the Flamenco Dance Academy. Your name señor?”
“Ah, Cue... no, it’s uhm, Clinton, eh, Clinton Walsh,” he said.
“Ah yes, please come this way. New? First time?” the woman asked in a heavy Spanish accent.
“Yeah, yes,” he said. He glanced around for Dina, but didn’t see her. There were several women on the stage being instructed by a tall and slender latin man with a thick mustache. The guy was in tights.
“Sign here,” his escort said. He glanced down at the contract. He never signed anything without reading it first, so he had to take the time to skim through it. He read as fast as he could and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He signed his name and dated it. She gave him a name badge. “We welcome newbies on Tuesday and Thursdays. I’m Marissa Santiago. And my twin brother and co-owner is Matteo the instructor. That is him on the stage with students. Please find a seat. We will be giving a demonstration to welcome all of our students today.”
“Gracias,” he said.
Marissa b
lushed. There were several fold-out chairs waiting for the students. He decided to take one in the front row while most students chose the second or back row. On the stage was a small band of guitarists. The Spanish melody romanced the audience as Matteo spoke with dance troupe. Cue was more than a bit curious. Matteo nodded to his band to stop the music and turned to face his new students.
“Welcome! Bienvenida! Everyone. Please, find a seat. Welcome,” he said to the last students arriving. He waited a beat, then became serious and proud in his stance. Hand to hips and back erect, he looked like some Spanish Conquistador from a time long ago.
“I am Matteo. And this is your introduction to the flamenco!” he stomped his feet and struck an imposing pose, with one arm arced in a half circle above his head and his other arm hooked around his waist. A few students clapped. Matteo bowed with a smile.
“Because you are here to learn, I am gracious to teach,” Matteo said, and started to walk across the stage. “The roots of the flamenco are very rich in diversity and culture,” he began. “We are tied to the Roma gypsies from India who brought the dance to Spain all the way back in the fourteenth century. The cultural intermingling of that time gave birth to a very distinct language of rhythm and love. I’d like to have my girls give you a sample. I call them my girls, but they are my students and I humbly belong to them.”
Cue rolled his eyes. He knew a lothario when he saw one. He focused his attention on the women and secretly wanted to see Dina perform. The idea that she would do so in front of strangers contradicted his assumption that she struggled with social conflicts. But Dina wasn’t among them. The trio of guitarists began to play in harmony. The women all stepped together in uniform. They wore the same black leotard tops and long red skirts with ruffles of fabric at the hem. A red rose was tucked behind their left ears. Each held their hems up by gathering the fabric to the skirt at their thighs so they could kick out their legs and tap across the stage with a rhythmic precision. The symmetry in the dancing was quite spectacular. He was reminded of how a matador would pose when a bull charged at him. Matteo stepped into formation and began to do a very erect gentleman dance of his own. It involved hand clapping, foot stomping and shouts of encouragement from one dancer to another, striking poses and using footwork in tap shoes that challenged the performers to keep up.
The show lasted about ten minutes. Cue didn’t think he would last a second. The students all clapped. The performers took a bow and walked off the stage, leaving Matteo alone. Again, Cue looked for Dina and didn’t see her. Was she a dancer there, or something else? Maybe a volunteer. Maybe her lessons were private, since she had social anxieties. That was plausible. And if it were true, he’d never get closer to her. Matteo bowed a few times and the let the crowd settle down. “Twenty years I have done this dance of love. I started when I was sixteen. It is my passion to teach, as it will be your passion to learn. I’d like to introduce my star pupil.”
Dina walked out onto the stage. He’d got small glimpses of her before, but now she was under a spotlight for everyone to see. She didn’t look at the audience. She looked at Matteo with eyes of admiration. He stared down at her with eyes of encouragement. She wore a long black skirt adorned with pink ruffles at the hem that kicked up ripples of fabric when she walked. The remainder of the skirt was snug to her curves, sculpting her heart-shaped hips, shapely thighs and buttocks.
“Meet Dina Erickson. She has been taking classes with us for almost a year.”
Dina bowed to him and then turned and bowed to the students. Her thick hair was held back by a bright pink headband. Her makeup was very natural expect for the bright red lipstick. She was very seductive in her approach to her instructor.
“Flamenco is very technical. And not something easily learned. You must challenge yourself. Please, save your praise or criticism for another time. We are all here to develop. And the flamenco is a transformation of your deepest expression. There is no wrong dance here. Understood?”
The students nodded. Dina appeared relaxed, in marked contrast to how Cue remembered of her. She did not exhibit the anxieties Rodney spoke of either. One of the guitarists embarked on a solo. Cue prepared himself to fall in love with her expression.
Matteo started to move with a few hand claps and stomps. Dina lifted her skirt at both sides to reveal her feet and legs up to her calves. She started to shuffle her feet in an awkward side to side motion that was clearly off rhythm. And then she bucked her hips in an awkward fashion. At first Cue thought this was part of the show, some sort of comedy. But it occurred to him that this was Dina’s way of expressing herself to the music. No matter how much Matteo instructed her by guiding her hips, she couldn’t find the beat. So, Matteo moved in and did what he didn’t with the other dancers. He took her into his arms and calmed her clumsiness. He guided her into more formal steps as she clapped her hands and stomped her feet. His hands roamed down her curves. A bit too much to Cue’s liking. Dina didn’t seem to mind, but Cue eyes narrowed on the instructor. He looked at Dina as a man would, not like an instructor. And she gave herself to him. Whatever he wanted, no matter how he turned or touched her, she went with it.
Soon her clumsiness didn’t seem as awkward as it did at first, but part of some shared choreography. She remained rhythmless, but her efforts were so genuine most smiled instead of snickering or laughing. He too was smiling. Matteo was possessive in the way he guided her, Dina was free in the ways she escaped him. The dance went on. His hands reached high enough to touch her breasts. He pressed her backside into his pelvis. His folding arms around her trapped her in his embrace as he brushed the side of his face against hers. Dina kept stomping, but she was his captive.
The music ended. Many stood and clapped. Cue was uncertain of what do or say. Applauding didn’t seem appropriate. Dina, however, brimmed with happiness. She looked out at everyone, panting with exertion. Matteo kissed her on the cheek and then kissed her on the lips. She bowed and left the stage.
Cue wondered whether they were a couple.
“How many of you have brought the proper shoes for a practice lesson today?” Matteo asked. Half the room raised their hands.
“I suspected so. It doesn’t matter. Today is for you to know us, next class we know you. Practice is for those who are willing. We will take the lessons above and you are to wear the attire suggested in your package from this day forward.” Matteo narrowed his eyes and focus on Cue. “I’m very excited to see a male student. Welcome. This dance is for you too.”
Cue nodded. No fucking way am I doing that dance, buddy, he thought to himself. Matteo brought more dancers onto the stage. He didn’t see Dina for a while. When he did, she was headed over to the drinks and refreshments. He got up from his seat and went in pursuit of her.
“No lemonade, no cranberry juice, just water. Who wants water? I need libations. The refreshing kind,” Dina mumbled to herself. “Who drinks water? It’s bland. No taste.”
“I feel the same way,” someone spoke from behind her. She turned to look up into the face of a strange man. Startled, she pushed him away from her out of reflex. The man put his hands up in mock surrender with a charming smile that she did like. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Cue. Remember? Panera Bread? We met there.”
“Panera Bread?”
“A ten-dollar bill was mistaken for a five-dollar bill?”
Dina remembered. He was the weirdo staring at her. How could she forget? Experience had taught her to never reveal all of her thoughts and memories to people she didn’t know. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. Everyone was fixated on the show, but this guy came over to meet her. Why? He was tall like her brother. He had tiger eyes. Almost amber. And dark hair that had a tendency to curl. She feared his tie. Red was not a color to be trusted.
“I’m new to the city. I wanted to check out something fun to do and found out about the classes. It’s a small world, isn�
��t it?”
Dina thought on it. She’d jumped to too many conclusions this week. She even stabbed her boss with a pencil. And she promised Rodney she was going to do better. Though everything in her said run from the man with the tiger eyes, she forced a smile. “Yes, Atlanta is small. Until it’s not,” she replied, and grabbed her cup. She fixed herself some bland water. Cue didn’t go away. He fixed himself a cup and stood too close to her.
“You’re really good,” he said.
“It’s none of your business,” Dina replied.
Cue smiled. “True, but I enjoyed the show.”
She glanced over at him. “You a dancer?”
“No,” he confessed. “I’m just a student.”
She returned her attention to the dance team and tried to ignore him. “Maybe if I ignore you, you’ll go away,” she blurted. When she did, she felt a flush of embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she didn’t stop herself before letting it slip.
Cue chuckled. “You could just ask me to go away. Ignoring is ruder.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Sometimes I speak... never mind.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Cue asked.
“Huh? Who?”
“Matteo. The instructor.”
“No,” Dina said and a deep flush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “He’s my teacher. Goodbye,” she walked away. She glanced back twice. The man named Cue was watching her. She went up the stairs with the other dance students and took a seat nearest the band.
Cue watched her go. She was refreshingly honest. And he liked her busy manner. He understood why Rodney was protective of her. And he knew his friend would smash Mr. Matteo to dust if he saw how he palmed and groped her. Men knew men who preyed on beauties. Hell, he and Rodney had done their fair share. He pulled out his phone and walked out of the lesson. He dialed Rodney and got an answer on the third ring.
