We return to the table, and the bartender brings us a large bottle of still water. Breathing heavily, I finally sit down, feeling my body begin to relax after the intense dance. Katrin sits beside me, and for a moment, everything around us seems to vanish. The room remains as noisy as ever, but it's as if we have entered our own world, a world where no one else exists but us.
"Thank you, this is just what we needed. We'll pay later," I say to the waiter, reaching out to take the water. I feel Katrin's fingers gently brush against mine as she passes me the bottle.
The waiter smiles politely and says,
"The water is complimentary. Consider it a reward for your dance. The club owner has also sent you a bottle of premium wine and asked me to let you know that you're always welcome here."
I raise an eyebrow, and Katrin gives a faint smile, still intoxicated by the emotions we have just shared.
"A gift?" she murmurs, as if thinking aloud, then her gaze flicks toward me. I nod silently, and the waiter, understanding that we have grasped the message, steps away.
A few minutes later, the promised wine arrives. The label on the bottle is exquisite, exuding an air of elegance, as if it has been crafted for special occasions. I carefully uncork the bottle, and the aroma of subtle fruity tartness, mingled with notes of oak and spices, fills the air, making it unusually rich. The scent is deep and alluring, much like the night itself.
We begin to drink, savoring every sip. Silence envelops us once more, but this quiet is filled with something more than mere peace.
"Are you okay? You've been quiet," I remark, noticing how she has remained silent all this time. Her gaze is slightly clouded, and I can't quite decipher what she is truly feeling.
"I'm still processing what happened out there..." She points toward the dance floor, her voice a mix of awe and a hint of embarrassment. "What we did... it was something else."
"Absolutely. It was breathtaking. I wouldn't mind doing it again," I say, feeling the same fire that had burned during the dance stirring within me once more.
Katrin smiles, and her eyes sparkle again, filled with the same light I had seen before we began dancing.
"Have you ever danced like that with anyone before?" she asks.
"Yes," I reply, noticing a flicker of discomfort cross her face.
She looks away for a moment, lost in thought.
I feel the need to clarify, to dispel any potential misunderstanding. "I've danced tango and other dances with partners during classes at my school," I explain, emphasizing that my experience was limited to lessons. "We had classes twice a week, and we rotated partners each time."
She looks at me, and I notice a subtle shift in her expression. Perhaps she has realized something or sensed a deeper meaning in my words.
"Only with partners? No one else?" Her voice carries a hint of caution, as if she is searching for a hidden implication.
I meet her gaze and speak calmly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "Well, you know I couldn't step outside of school, and I didn't have a girlfriend before this," I continue, feeling a growing sense of embarrassment. "So, I didn't have anyone to dance with outside of class. I only danced with partners during lessons or at competitions we participated in."
I see her relax, but there's a strange understanding in her eyes, as if she hasn't immediately grasped the significance of my words.
"What other dances do you know? Besides tango, of course—I already know about that."
"Folk, ballroom... waltz, salsa, Latin, foxtrot. I know a few others, but not as well as these. We were taught many dances, but these were the ones we perfected. A minimum of three months of training, until they were perfected. Some of us kept working on every move for months to achieve perfection. Honestly, sometimes I feel like if you woke me up in the middle of the night, I could dance without even opening my eyes."
Her eyes fill with admiration, and I feel my heart tighten, as if I'm seeing her look at me with such deep interest for the first time. In that moment, I feel like I've become something more to her than just a guy who can dance. She amazes me.
"You were amazing. I could never dance like that myself," the girl continues to smile, but I can see how every word she speaks seems to pierce straight into my soul.
We fall silent again. But this silence isn't heavy—it's filled with something... unspoken. We both understand that there's something between us, something that doesn't yet have words. We both feel how this moment has become something more than just a conversation.
I can't bear it. I want to break the silence, to show her what I'm feeling. We both know this moment is important, and I'm ready to act on it. I want to be closer, to share this moment with her.
"Come here," I say, reaching out my hand. She looks slightly surprised but stands up, a faint smile playing on her lips.
We're so close that I can feel her breath mingling with mine. I move the table aside, clearing space for us, and for a second, it feels as though the entire world has faded away. Only this moment remains.
"Do you want to dance again? There's not much room here."
"You don't need much space for salsa. We'll spin, but we'll stay in one place," I reply calmly, and that spark returns to her eyes—the same one I'd seen before the dance.
We both know that in this moment, it doesn't matter how much space we have. What matters is this dance, just the two of us, who don't need room to feel close.
I pull out my phone and turn on the music. The melody begins to fill the space, and with every note, I can feel the tension building.
My hand rests on her waist, and I feel her respond to the touch, her palm finding my shoulder. It's as if the world has ceased to exist—there's only us, the music, and a moment that can't be put into words. I lead her, taking the first step in rhythm. It's a smooth, confident step back, and her feet follow mine effortlessly, as if she can hear the music just as I do. We're one.
This isn't just dancing—it's an invisible connection. We start moving in place, our steps confident, every gesture filled with intention. The lack of space isn't an obstacle—in that small area, we're creating something far greater.
"Trust me," I whisper, looking straight into her eyes. I want her to feel how confidently I will take charge of this dance, of this moment. "I'll spin you. Don't be afraid—I'll catch you."
We begin to move in sync with the music, and I carefully turn her in rhythm, her body following every gesture. A few steps to the left, then to the right—this is the art of salsa, where we aren't just moving but feeling the music in every motion. With each turn, I gently take one of her hands, then softly embrace her shoulders, transitioning into the next step.
Our movements are fluid and synchronized. Our bodies barely leave the spot, but every gesture is filled with passion, trust, and mutual understanding. We shift positions, playing with each turn, exchanging energy without words. She glides around me like a stream of water, and I lead her with a confident yet caring hand, knowing when to pull her close and when to give her space to express her own dance.
I feel her breath growing more uneven, and it adds fire to the moment. My heart races, and the music grows louder in my head, as if it has become part of our bodies. We are searching for something more than just a dance—it is something deep, alive, and real. When I guide her into a quick spin, she seems to sparkle in the air, her feet barely touching the ground, my hands holding her firmly, letting the rotation reach its climax. We become one.
When the music ends, we freeze in each other's arms, breathing heavily, both of us exhilarated. Time seems to stop.
Without thinking, I lean in and kiss her neck. She instantly presses closer to me, her body responding to the gesture as if she is trying to dissolve into the moment, into our unity. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I feel her relax, trusting me with everything that is between us.
"Not here, sweetheart," I whisper, realizing this isn't the place for us, that we are too close to continue here. "You're mine, and I don't want anyone else to see what's between us."
I pull away, taking her hand firmly, and lead her back to the table, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation—though I know no rules can stop this moment.