The Pretence of Salsa

The crowd cheered as the two of us stepped on the glossed mammoth floor, our shoes clicked with the beat of the drums that played at the corner of the stage.

The anchor stood on the floor with his hands out welcoming the most awaited dancing couple of the show as he held out the microphones to us.

People held their breaths in anticipation, our plan had worked well. We held hands as we shared the same microphone our smiles deceived the crowds with ease.

'So' started the anchor 'what will you be presenting to us this evening?'

'Why don't we show you instead?' said my charming partner, he held a poise in his structure that would make any girl fall for his charms just like I once had. Not anymore.

This was my moment of truth, the competition for which I had prepared for days without end, till my body ached and till the song remained the only music I heard. 

Eat, Dance, Sleep, Repeat.

The music started with a slow beat of the drum as we took our places on the opposite side of the stage. He held the red cloth while I stood on the opposite end of the platform in a bodycon dress beaded with pearls and rhine stones that reflected the light ever so lightly with every twist and turn. I was ready. 

We looked at eachother and for a moment we were back to the time when everything was fine, we were happy and not this frustrated with eachother. This Salsa Bachata was a perfect escape for our frustration.

It was a ferocious form of dance between a bull and it's ringer. It was also a romantic dance that appealed to the crowd. So it was a win-win choice for us. 

The tempo of drums started rising as I approached my partner, my eyes held fury, as his held calm. His eyes were glued to mine as if trying to convey something, I paid no heed, after all everything in this competition was supposed to be a pretence.

We had agreed to it before we entered the competition. 'You know we need eachother to win this competition. We are like the dancing magnets together' he had said.

I agreed.

My arm streached out as if to take hold of his neck, but his hands swiftly wrap around my waist as he pulls me close and picks me up before suspending me mid-air, I land on the glossed floor with a wild grace.

The guitar joins in the beat of the drums, now tuning in with the fast notes as I try to attack the ringer, being almost sensually as I try to ram my horns in his chest. He catches my head as he flips me around my back touches his chest as his breath tickles the base of my ear, we slowly bend backwards till I'm halfway resting on his chest.

I'm pushed back to times when I used to lay my head on this shoulder while watching the latest series. His hand that now rests on my neck, then played with my silky locks in an attempt to untangle them.

Now we tangle our bodies as we hold each others hand only to leave it and catch it again. It's like the game of cat and mouse and somehow we can't seem to get enough.

Push, pull, twist and turn. 

On a certain beat he pulls me up straight to face him, I feel his heavy breath on my face. My body betrays my conscious as it moves in a little closer. Another beat and my hands are behind my back and I'm falling backwards.

With the final beat he spins me at my waist to deliver the final pose. The classic salsa pose where his hands lay under my hip supporting my entire weight as I elegany arch my back and spread out a single leg as my other hand goes around his shoulder. I clutch his shirt tightly. 

The crowd explodes with cheers and applause. I breath hard as I stand tall on the stage. His hands come to rest at my hip in a possessive grip I almost fall for the act. He was good, he was always good at it.

But this time around I wanted to be better. 

The results were announced a short while after, no one was suprised at the names announced. We waved at the crowds as we collected our trophies, thanking them for their love and support. 

The show was over the crowd was disappearing as I turned over to get off the stage. A hand came around my wrist in a firm grasp, "Wait! I just wanted you to know that I still miss you and I want you to come back. It was my fault I admit, can you please forgive me?"

I looked at him, his eyes somehow seemed sincere this time around.

So what? I thought. 

This time around I had no forgiveness left to offer, this time around my decision was to not regret. This time around my aim was to win, not just the competition but also the fight within myself. 

So I glanced at him right in his deep brown eyes as I grabbed his hand in my wrist and removed it from my hand. I turned around and walked away. 

Without regret.