In the middle of my floor, he danced us

Sunday April 14th

A couple weekends ago, B and I were spending time together at my place. B had asked what we should read together. (We’d talked about reading the same book at the same time long ago, but hadn’t gotten around to it.) I said that we should go to the thrift store and  read the first book we found two copies of. “No!” he said. “I don’t want to read The Bridges of Madison County!”  Heehee. In fact, we found Reading Lolita in Tehran and Ella Minnow Pea. We started with Reading Lolita, reading aloud to each other.

My hips had been bothering me, feeling very tight and achey, and I told him that I needed to stretch. My pilates instructor had shown me the same stretches that a physical therapist gave me last year, and of course my flexibility and strength won’t improve unless I do the damn things. (Not surprisingly, I should have been doing these stretches every day of my life since childhood. Is any human good at self-discipline?) I’ve only stretched in front of B a couple of times, usually while he was cooking or otherwise occupied. We had been talking about the stretches though, and I’d been describing my pilates session, so I settled on my living room rug and began. He sat on the couch and picked up our book, reading aloud. When I attempted the stretch that my pilates instructor had assisted with, B put down the book and came over. I was lying on my back with my legs a bit pretzely, and B lifted my bottom foot and supported it. I love that he would read to me while I stretched. I love that he would put down the book and come over to help, placing my foot against his chest without hesitation.

Somehow, when stretching was over, we ended up sitting on the rug facing each other, my legs around his waist. I’d turned on a playlist of fast songs from my computer. B maneuvered us so that I was sitting on his lap, and I wrapped my arms around him. He moved to the music, bouncing and swaying me, and sitting there in the middle of my living room, we were dancing. I held onto him tightly, our torsos kissing from sternum to belly, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, and we sang along and laughed together. I’ve never felt that before. Secure in someone’s arms, letting him move us to the music, no fear of falling. It felt so good, sexy and fun. Almost magical. I don’t know if B did all this deliberately, if he knew that I’d never really danced and he found a way to give that to me. Could he know how I’ve longed to feel it? Maybe he knew what it meant to me and maybe he didn’t. I couldn’t tell him. I just held him tighter, loving him so much.


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