Dance Floor
Icaro stood holding both his and Zorah’s drinks in his hands while he watched his wife dance on the floor below.
“Your wife has no rhythm,” Vodingo shook his head. “She has the voice of an angel, and she is gorgeous, but she dances like an octopus being hit with a high voltage wire.”
“He doesn’t seem to mind,” Icaro watched the man dancing with his wife on the dance floor and shook his head. His wife’s version of sexy dancing was a far cry from what he’d imagined. As she gesticulated wildly on the dance floor, nearly smacking her dance partners in the face more than once, he almost felt sorry for the poor fools who approached her.
“I am glad I did not make such a stupid arrangement with my wife,” Vodingo turned his gaze to Sidonia who was dancing with Keturah and a handful of her girlfriends. “My wife dances like she fucks and it’s sinful. She should be in my arms not down there.”
“She is pissed off.” Icaro commented, “it is one thing to imagine your past lovers. It is quite another to have them flaunted in her face.”
“Are you going to allow that?” Vodingo asked as the man dancing with Zorah pulled her closer and tried to grind her on his knee.
As if she heard Vodingo’s comment, which was impossible from this distance, Zorah shot Icaro a look and then continued dancing.
“She is her own person and if it is what she wants to do, who am I to say no?” his fingers tightened around the glass in his hand, and he lifted it to his lips.
“Fuck this, I’m going to go dance with my wife.” Vodingo cursed.
“Vod, you are like a brother to me so a word to the wise, tread carefully. If she does not want to dance with you, don’t force it. Let her come to you when she’s ready.”
“How is that working for you, Icaro? Your wife is down there with some fucker’s knee between her legs.”
“I’ve put more than my knee between a woman’s legs, Vodingo. I have no right to judge her.”
“She is your wife!” he slapped his hand on the balustrade. “She is your one.”
“She is my one. I am not her one.” Icaro watched Vodingo’s eyes widen. “Think about this for a minute, Vod. I am not her one. You are not Sidonia’s one. There is no divine intervention at play here for either of those women. It is all one-sided and if I want my wife to look at me across the breakfast table every day for the rest of our lives and not shoot daggers at me, I need her to love me. Part of loving me is knowing I will not take her for granted and I will respect her choices. She is hurting, Vodingo because I knew of her and I still fucked other women, women who have put our sex acts on the internet and have approached me in bars and hotel rooms.”
“You didn’t screw with the one in the hotel room.”
“Does it matter? In her mind, in her head, the minute the woman was there on our bed, she became the representative of the collective of women of whom I have been inside and none of them were my wife.”
“You’re saying when Sidonia saw the woman call my name a moment ago, she immediately started imagining all the women I’ve slept with?”
“Yup.”
“Fuck. I need to fix this.”
“Good luck. I’m currently abstaining from sex from my wife for the next thirty days to prove to her she is worth more to me than an orgasm. I’m now watching her bump and grind with two men,” he motioned to where the other man was behind Zorah, “all to let her know she is worth more than a hundred pussies.”
Vodingo gave an impatient hiss and then started down the stairs in search of his wife.
He watched Zorah slip from between the men and push through the crowd and take the stairs back to him. He knew she’d downed two drinks from the bar on the ground floor, courtesy of Keturah and carefully prepared by staff who were watching to make sure nobody tried to drug his wife. She was wobbling. It was adorable.
“I’m thirsty,” she wiped sweat off her brow as she reached for the glass he held out. “Dancing is exercise!” She took a long gulp.
“It is.” He chuckled. “Are you having fun, Zorah?”
“I guess,” she shrugged, “the guy who came up behind me to dance asked me if I was here alone. I told him I was with you, and he laughed and said nobody is with Icaro Lucchesi. I came up here to prove him wrong.”
“Did you now?”
“Yes.”
“How are you going to prove it?”
“You should kiss me?”
“Is this my wife asking for a kiss or the culmination of alcohol and adrenaline in her veins?”
“Both?” she giggled as she stepped closer to him.
Her face was flushed from the exertion and her pupils were dilated from the alcohol. Her forehead glistened with sweat and the hair which was one sleek and shiny was now curling at the ends. He brushed a tendril and tucked it behind her ear, “you look beautiful Zorah.”
“Thank you. You’re still very reserved.”
“Because I do not want to take away from your fun. If I had my way, I’d throw you over my shoulder, take you back to the hotel and eat your pussy until dawn.”
“Icaro!” she slapped her hand over his mouth.
He pulled it away and gently touched his lips to hers. “Making out with me means nobody else will dance with you.”
“Then you should come dance with me.”
“Should I?”
“I am finding I don’t dance very well with strangers. Maybe it is better with someone I know.”
“Well, who am I to deny my wife a dance?” he thanked his lucky stars it only took eight dance partners for his wife to come ask him to dance with her. He tossed his drink back and urged her to finish hers.
Extending his hand to her, he took her back down onto the dance floor and spun her into his arms. Her loud giggle and the way she stumbled made his heart leap with joy. His Zorah was happy in his embrace. Nothing was better than this.
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