Last night I rode to my love’s house (she lives just down the street), and together we took a night on the town. First we went to the Erotic Heritage Museum (where she has worked, and where she still holds instruction from time to time) and heard a fascinating lecture on prostate massage – fascinating and informative, particularly considering my new line of work.
After that we went and got tacos, these massive ones, from one of her favorite places: Taco Taco, off of Eastern & Tropicana. Positively scrumptuous; worth it just for their salsa bar, which had six to eight different types, three of which I tried and was impressed with. From there, we went for an altogether different kind of salsa.
Mailar is one of her favorite bands, her most favorite salsa band in Las Vegas, and they play at Sam’s Town, or at least a smaller iteration of the band (the casino doesn’t want to pay for all of the musicians), every Friday night. She went last week with a friend but I was unable to attend – this week however, we tore it up.
Salsa, meringue, cha-cha; we tore it up. She learned ballroom, whereas I am untrained but have some rhythm, and she has been patiently teaching me and continued to do so on the Sam’s Town dance floor, which was not so full as to be hazardous to a novice. It was wonderful getting lost in her eyes as the dance hall swirled around in a blur of light and sound, our steps agreed upon in a silent exchange of looks and the swing of hips; getting sweaty together in public, touching each other erotically out of passion in our time – there is no feeling in the world like it.
She has two religions: nature and dance, and this week we worshipped together – on Mt. Charleston earlier this week and at Sam’s Town last night. I sacrificed my thighs on the altar of the four count; spread blood on the walls of my heart that I might not be passed over in the whirling dervish of her sultry steps, kicks, and twirls; her seduction of the dancefloor, and the beat from the drums and piano, and vis a vis, me.
Not that she needs help seducing me: I am hopelessly in love with her; not that I need help seducing her – she is as devoted to me. On the way in I hold the door for two women who end up in the dance hall as well: they call me a gentleman, and she agrees and sings my praises. My ego has never been more well-tended.
And this morning: we get up at 8, my having spent the night enwrapped and enraptured in her arms, and she lets me out with my bike. Riding is not too difficult, but my thighs protest that I have been using them too much. I set the gear higher and ignore their threats of mutiny: standing for six hours at work should be a treat. I shall relish it and recall our sweating syncopation, our exhausted repose and the moans elicited afterward in her bed, her waking fondness and clear caring for me. This shall be the cloud I step on today.