I take her hand and gently guide it to the side. With my other hand, I wrap it around her waist, and I feel her body respond immediately, her shoulders relaxing as she melts into my embrace. It feels so natural, as if she has been searching for my support all along.
Katrin softly places her hand on my shoulder, her fingers barely brushing against my skin, conveying more than any words ever could. We don't need speeches—every glance, every movement speaks volumes, expressing feelings that no explanation could match.
We begin to sway, and I feel her lightness and grace blending seamlessly with my movements. She follows me with confidence, as if we have been dancing together our entire lives. I marvel at how quickly she picks up the rhythm, sensing every shift of my body, as though we have long been one, moving in perfect harmony. Each of her motions seems to flow into the next, and I know she feels it too.
Katrin anticipates my intentions with every step, her reactions flawless. We glide across the floor, oblivious to the crowd, as people instinctively part to give us space, respecting this moment, understanding that we are in a universe of our own.
We continue to move to the music, and I feel her body gradually relax, her nerves calming, her heartbeat syncing with mine. In her eyes, I see trust, and I sense that she is opening herself completely to me. I lead her gently, careful and attentive, as if every movement is a promise that she is safe. Her steps are slightly uncertain, but there is a charm in that—her vulnerability only accentuates her beauty, adding magic to the dance. We move together as if the world has been designed for this moment, for us to be close. I feel her breath merge with mine, becoming part of the music, part of this world. Time stands still, and there is nothing around us but the two of us.
"You're beautiful," I whisper into her ear, and I feel her body tremble slightly at the words. Katrin smiles at me, and in her eyes, I see gratitude—not just for the words, but for something deeper. It is a look filled with the same emotion I am feeling. We keep dancing, and with every step, I feel the tension between us dissolve. I am with her, and that is all that matters.
The music changes, but our connection remains unbroken. Instead of a meaningless pop tune, something resembling a tango begins to play—and everything falls into place. It might not be the best rendition, but for us, it is perfect.
The girl looks at me with a genuine, happy smile, and in that moment, I feel a flame of love ignite in my chest. There is no pretense in her gaze, only closeness and warmth. She is entirely herself—real, raw, and mine. I see her as I never have before—without masks, without embellishments.
Katrin is perfect for me, and I feel it with every fiber of my being. I know I love her. There is no doubt about it. And though this time I'm not drunk when I first dance with her, I now realize: she is my reality, my passion, my Rebel Girl.
In an instant, I come to a sudden stop and slowly lean her body parallel to the floor. Her eyes never leave mine, and I know she trusts me more than anyone. She reaches for me, and in that moment, everything around us seems to freeze, leaving only our lips. She kisses me, and the world disappears. I kiss her back with equal passion, and for a moment, we forget about time, about the people, about the club—we are only there for each other.
When the music fades again, silence washes over us, and the club falls completely quiet. All the people who have been there before seem to vanish, leaving us alone in our small, special world. The entire reality becomes nothing compared to what is happening between us. It is just the two of us, in that silence, where every glance, every gesture is filled with meaning. Only we remain—two dancing souls who have found each other, our hearts beating in unison.
She pulls away from my lips, her breath heavy but familiar. A fire dances in her eyes, and with a soft laugh, she asks, "Shall we keep dancing? I want more."
I smile, caught up in her mood, and without hesitation, reply, "Of course, my Rebel Girl."
And once again, we are lost in that mesmerizing, beautiful dance. I can't help but notice how naturally and freely she moves. There is nothing excessive in her dance; every motion is organic, as if she is a part of the music itself.
It turns out that my Katrin isn't just dancing the tango—her dance is unique, a symbiosis of passion and improvisation. She brings everything from her soul into the dance, and the tango, in her interpretation, becomes something new, alive. Every step is free, unbound by strict rules, and in that lies her strength. She is real, sincere, like life itself.
I try to maintain the structure of the tango, to guide her, but Katrin, as always, adds her own touch—something so natural, so alive, that I feel every moment of hers becoming an inseparable part of mine. My Rebel Girl is like fire, burning and reaching for me, and I can't help but respond. I lead her with a confidence that comes not from control, but from the fact that we are on the same wavelength, merging in this dance.
She twirls around me as if in some enchanted dance, her movements full of grace. She plays with the rhythm, adding improvisation, yet every turn is perfect. I admire her talent, her elegance, and the feeling is indescribable. There is something magical in her dance—she doesn't just follow the rhythm; she becomes the rhythm.
Every movement, every glance, every gesture speaks of something deeper between us, something beyond mere physical attraction, and I feel our connection growing stronger, as if the dance is an expression of the passion we both feel. This isn't just a performance of steps; it is a deep, sincere expression of what we mean to each other.
"You dance so beautifully. Did you lie about not knowing how?" I whisper softly, feeling a surge of pride for her, for how she brings her uniqueness and passion into the dance.
My partner glances at me with slight embarrassment, but her eyes still shine with joy, full of sincerity and delight in the moment.
"I really don't know any formal dances. But I love to just dance, and I guess I'm doing a decent imitation of the tango. What do you think? You're the expert, after all, not me."
I pause for a moment, searching for the right words to convey everything I'm feeling. Then, with a smile, I reply,
"I'd give you a solid four out of five."
"Why not five?" Her voice carries a hint of surprise, a playful tone that makes me smile. I know she's teasing me, and I love it.
"Because it's not a real tango, but you dance beautifully, and for effort—four," I say, genuinely admiring her talent and how she flows into the rhythm without losing her individuality.
"Boo!" she teases, and I feel her laughter fill the air between us, creating an atmosphere of lightness and mutual affection that makes me feel as if nothing in the world matters more than this moment.
"I'd dance any dance with you, any that exists on this planet, and even those no one has invented yet," I say, knowing these aren't just words but an expression of all my feelings, all my desires.
"I would too," she replies, her voice full of emotion, and I feel her words resonate in my heart. I know she feels the same.
We continue to dance, absorbed in each other, sinking deeper into this special moment. We aren't thinking about anything except what's happening here and now, and all our feelings merge into one. The dance becomes our language, our way of being close without needing words. Time seems to slow down, and in that moment, nothing else exists.
This moment is eternity.
When the music fades, we stop, and I feel her breath still catching, out of sync with my own rhythm. We stand there, slightly stunned by what we've just experienced. But then, like a wave, applause breaks into our world. I look around and see a crowd of people approaching us, everyone clapping as if the entire hall has become part of our dance, applauding what we've created.
"Thank you so much for that magnificent dance. If you'd like to dance something else, just say the word, and we'll clear the floor for you," says one of the hosts. I notice the genuine admiration in his voice. He adds, "Everyone, let's give this couple another round of applause for that performance!"
And at that moment, the entire dance floor erupts in applause. We stand there, surrounded by ovations, and I realize that nothing in the world matters more than the fact that Katrin and I have shared this dance together. It's something greater—a moment we've experienced with our whole souls, our whole hearts, and one that will stay with us forever. It's like an acknowledgment, a sign that our moment has been truly special, and we've created something that everyone else can only witness. But for us, this moment is ours, and that's what matters most.
We both feel that nothing about this moment is accidental. It's as if everything has led us to this meeting, to this unity.