Salsa

"The first thing you need to do is feel the Latin beat with your whole body," I said as I put the tape of "Brazilian Dreams" in the stereo.

"I never thought you were the type who liked Latin music or salsa dancing for that matter," Methos said, a twinkle in his eyes and a mischeivious smile creeping across his face.

"Truthfully, I didn't, but the tape was a gift from a friend, so I gave it a try. The dancing I picked up along the way. Now, let's get down to business. Feel the rythm of the song. Swing your hips like this," I said showing him, "and follow my lead. OW!"

"I am so sorry! Are you OK, Jen? I'm afraid I have two left feet. This was a mistake. Sorry I bothered you."

"No, it's alright. Nothing's broken. I'll be fine. Uh, maybe it would be better if you saw people salsa dancing first hand. Let's go to a club and maybe that'll help you out. I admit that I'm not the best teacher."

"I think it's the student who's lacking this time. I think you're right. It's only 10:25 PM, there should be plenty of clubs open now. Shall we?" he asked handing me the shoe I had dropped seconds before and placing his arm around mine.

"Why not. It'll been if nothing else."

20 minutes, 2 beers and a martini (for Methos and myself, respectively) later... Methos decided to give dancing a try.

"Let me just finish watching this dance, OK? I thought you were crazy when you said to meet in Miami. Now I know what you were thinking," he said giving me a peck on the check and whispering thanks.

"I was thinking it would be warmer in Miami than in Pa., and the scenery isn't bad, either."

"What was that?"

"Oh! I said that it was nothing."

"I'm sure. I'm ready if you are."

"I'm definitely ready."

"I'll try not to step on your feet again."

"If you do, you owe me another martini, but if you don't, then I owe you 2 beers. How's that?" I replied as he took my left hand and put his left hand on my hip.

"Good deal. I just might surprise you."

"Good. I like surprises."

To my surprise, he danced like he'd known how to salsa dance. Not once did he step on my feet or hit me when he twirled me.

"The student was fine; it was the teacher who wasn't any good. When do you want your beers?" I asked after three dances.

"Later. I like Miami, or maybe it's the company that's making me like this city. I think I'm going to stick around for a few more days...just to celebrate with a great teacher," he replied, twirling me around the floor and improvising a few steps.