Stepping on Toes

I was asked to do something more private something personal. I took it literally and found myself drenched in sweat and silence.

The night air around me froze my soul, my feet were heavy on the ground. As I stood there I found my eyes fixated on the man at my lips. His arm around my side his hand enwrapping mine. Time itself stood still as we held each other close. Music. First in my head then in my ears, then our bodies... we moved as one. Passionately. I was scared and my every muscle was now sore with how we had moved, how we were moving, how we were going to move. Clumsy at first I felt ashamed about stepping on toes, it was the first time I'd done such in years. I could dance, but not like this. Ours is a dance of passion and intimacy. He touched my cheek, and with a finger under my chin held me to a kiss.
I was lost in longing for this man. I felt like someone else, like a movie-starlet, a goddess, a freak. I stood there stepping on toes, in love, kissing and dancing with this man in the front of a movie theatre.
Reality is a harsh mistress, she teaches you to either fly or sink. I danced.
I smiled at him, his dashing debonaire self and style. I swooned for him, I love him. I was looking forward to spending the rest of my life with him doing these sorts of quirky things all the time. It made me feel silly it made me feel wonderful. I smiled. I felt passionate. And secretly I sweated. I could not wait to get home to make love to him.