Every weekend, Hannah went with her friends to the posh gay club downtown.
Trish and Micky could love on each other without getting weird vibes from straight guys who wanted a threesome and she could dance with twenty different guys who didn’t grind their dicks on her.
It was a great night for all of them and just what she needed after a week at her high stress job.
The perfect opportunity to dress up, feel pretty, and dance all night without the pressure of turning down men who weren’t interested in her as a person.
They’d been coming to the club for a year. Since her best friends from college moved back to New York.
She didn’t smoke or drink but she shook her ass to almost every song. She’d always loved dancing. As a teenager, she even dreamed of doing it professionally like all of her friends at the time.
Then she spent the summer before her senior year of high school as an intern with Winters Enterprises and found her calling. Her job was wonderful and fulfilling but by Friday night, she was beat.
Trish grinned as they all stood on the sidewalk in front of their favorite hangout. “I love how your eyes light up when we come here, Hannah.”
“Maybe your regular dance partner will be around,” Micky added with a wink.
“Shut up. I know I’m weird.”
“You’re not weird but…if he was straight, I think he’d have made a move by now and if he’s gay, your heart will be broken.”
“It’s just nice getting to know a male without having to censor what I say. Without having to perform.” She sighed. “I like his company.”
The man in question was about five-eleven, Eye to eye with her when she wore heels. He was polite, articulate, and funnier than any man she’d ever met.
Several weekends before, he’d asked her to dance. Impressed with his skills, she said yes to song after song that night and all the ones that followed.
Two of his friends were clearly a couple. Another was quiet, shy, and danced mostly with other men.
Edgar was harder to determine. He interacted warmly with the males in the club but asked her out on the floor more often than not.
“I think he just likes the way I dance.” She gave the two women a small smile. “I can deal with that.”
Inside, the bartender waved and set up their usual drinks. Vodka tonics for her friends and an iced lemon water for her. Tipping him generously, they made their way around the large space, chatting with people they’d gotten to know well.
At a small table, they took seats and caught up with each other on happenings since they’d seen each other the weekend before.
Trish was a fashion buyer for a big West Coast company and Micky ran a bike courier service. Total opposites, Hannah loved the way they were together. She’d been giddy when they told her they were returning to New York.
They liked arriving a little after opening to relax and listen to music before the place filled up and the dance floor flooded. They took seats scattered around the dancing to people watch when they weren’t dancing themselves.
An hour later, Edgar entered with his friends. People greeted their group with smiles, hugs, and slaps on the back.
Hannah internally calmed her breathing and outwardly pretended not to notice his arrival. Some days, it was hard to navigate emotions that were probably inappropriate and fruitless.
She was careful not to say too much to her friends. Her crush on the man seemed juvenile. Even to her.
A woman asked her to dance and she accepted, following her out to one of her favorite songs. She felt her body stretch, relax, drop into the music, and loved that such a place existed.
The woman leaned forward when the song ended and thanked her, kissing her cheek. They parted and she made her way back to the table. Just before she touched the railing surrounding the dance floor, someone gently took her hand. Turning…she smiled.
Without a word, he led her back to the center, pulling her closer than usual as a great salsa started. Though they frequently separated, each time he brought her back, he held her hard against his body, and it made her tingle.
Dancing with him made her blissful.
When the music ended, he didn’t remove his palm along the back of her neck. Instead, eye to eye, he stared at her for a long moment.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t a chaste kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss friends shared. She didn’t think it was the kiss of a man solely into other men.
Moaning into his mouth, she followed where it led, careful not to touch him in case it was some sort of experiment. She didn’t want to assume.
She was ridiculously hopeful that maybe…just maybe…she’d got it all wrong and this man might be available to her for more than dancing.
As he pulled back, breaking the contact of their lips, he whispered, “Hannah.” Unable to form a verbal response, she reached up to hold his wrist. “Say something.”
“Hello. I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come home with me.”
Though she worried more by the moment that he was satisfying his curiosity about women, she nodded.
His smile was slow, his green eyes twinkling. “I’m not gay.”
A nervous laugh of relief bubbled up from her chest. “Even if you were, I’d still go home with you.”
Lifting his other hand, he stroked a strand of her hair away from her face. “That’s one of the many reasons I want you there.” Another song started to play. “First…another dance.”
Absolutely. All the dances he wanted.
© Shayne McClendon