Let's call this...THE TANGO LESSON
“My hand…goes
here.” She rested her left hand behind his right bicep, their elbows
overlapping. Finally, they were touching for real. “This is the position. Lock
it in.”
“Locked and
loaded.”
“The basic
pattern is slow-slow-quick-quick-slow.”
“I’ve never been
a slow kind of guy,” he couldn’t help saying.
She arched an
eyebrow. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Let’s start with the eight-count
basic. The first two steps we walk slowly, then close on the three. You’ll lead
eventually, but for now, just follow and hold on to me.”
Charlie did not need
a second invitation. He moved his hand to the small of her back and pulled her
close, smiling when she didn’t resist. When he leaned forward to touch his
forehead to hers, her hand behind
his shoulder slid down and curled around his bicep. He swayed them back and forth,
though their feet didn’t move.
“You’re
not…locking your frame,” Ellie said, her voice a ragged whisper.
“I can’t do what I want
to do with a locked frame.”
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When I was a teenager, I wanted to be some type of counselor, working w/troubled teens.
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