The Dance

            The night you taught me how to dance was enchanting. Everything I felt building up inside of me to that very moment suddenly became so irrelevant.  While the dance was slow, it didn't last very long… but I figured that would happen anyway.  It would be just my luck to have these vivid thoughts in my mind of how beautifully our bodies would step together in time, only to have it end very quickly when it finally did happen.  I remember feeling amazing while the music played but when it stopped, I felt short-changed.  I had never danced before but my friends made it out to seem so much more timeless, like the feeling of dancing with a man would last forever.  This didn't last very long but it was my first time.

            We danced many times after that night but I still only remember the first time so well. I remember the color of my dress, the fabric of your tie, the thread count of the sheets we danced on.  I remember my mother hating you for dancing with me that night but you said you didn't care nor could you help yourself.

            You held my waist with one hand and held my palm in the other while you began to move with my back to you. I fell quickly in time with your steps. I know you noticed because I sang to you in long, sensual vibratos. And then you began to sing with me when the music became faster, though just a short harmony here and there. 

            I felt so important to be dancing with such a man as you, and I thought you might have felt the same way towards me as a woman.  I suppose maybe you did, at some point early in our time spent together.  But it wasn't as strong as what I felt because you gave up so quickly.  When our dances stopped, your interest turned.  I was a confused child and you stole my first dance.  I was completely okay with that… until I realized I was just another dancer in your ballet.