The Song of David(50)

“You know how to waltz, sweetheart?”

She raised one eyebrow disdainfully. “Who’s the dancer here, David?”

“Just makin’ sure you can keep up with me, darlin’,” I cracked. I was laying it on thick and it was all I could do not to laugh when she snorted, setting her left hand gracefully on my shoulder, signaling she was ready.

“Are we going to dance or are you just going to hang onto me?” She wriggled impatiently.

“By all means, let’s dance.” With that, I began to move, pulling her so close she stood on her toes, her breasts pressed against me, her legs scissoring mine. She slid into the movement effortlessly, matching my sway, my timing, my steps, and we flew around the room. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, we waltzed, and everyone watched. Nobody waltzed anymore. But we did. Millie’s eyes were closed, her lips parted, her cheeks lightly flushed.

Ray LaMontagne sang about being saved by a woman.

And I believed him.

“She won’t let me go,” he moaned. “She won’t let me go.”

I sang with him, my lips against Millie’s hair. She tipped her face up, listening as we moved together. Then one song became another—another song in three/four time—and then another. I made a note to tip my DJ. He knew what he was doing. And I knew every word of every song.

We’d drawn quite the audience, though Millie wouldn’t know that. A group of women huddled at the edge of the floor, their heads together, their eyes on us, and I realized I’d slept with all of them, and I’d never danced with any of them. Kara, Brittney, Emma and Lauren. Good lord. They were friends? I didn’t know they were all friends. They came into the bar and worked out at the gym. I winked when I caught Brittney’s eye. We’d ended on good terms, and I didn’t see any reason not to be friendly. In fact, I’d never been especially serious with any of them. Looking at their scowling faces, maybe I was remembering wrong.

Brittney broke away from the others and strolled across the floor like she was on a catwalk and I was a fashion photographer. I should have spun Millie away, but the floor was small, and Brittney looked determined.

“Tag! I want to cut in! Who knew you could dance, baby?” she cooed, all gooey syrup and vanilla perfume. She snuggled up to my side and hugged my bicep, as if I wasn’t already dancing with another woman.

Millie stiffened and stepped back. I grabbed her hand.

“I’m dancing with Millie now. Next song. Okay?”

Brittney pouted in that way some women do when they really want to get ugly and are trying to stay cute, and she didn’t release my arm.

“Come on, Tag. You’re embarrassing me. Don’t say no.”

Millie pulled out of my arms. “Point me toward my stick and tell me how far it is. Ten feet? Twenty? I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Her expression was blank, her shoulders thrown back.

“She’ll be fine, Tag,” Brittney crooned. She was obviously well aware that Millie was blind.

“I’m dancing with Millie right now, Britt,” I said firmly, and I could hear the frost in my voice. I shot a look at the edge of the dance floor, at the women huddled together, watching the little drama unfold. There were grinning at me like it was all a big joke.

“Whatever.” Brittney released my arm casually. She turned away slowly, her pout still in place and sauntered off.

The song ended and for the space of a heartbeat there was relative quiet. Then her voice rang out loud and clear.

“You’re such a manwhore, Tag. It’s almost embarrassing,” she called over her shoulder, and a few people laughed. “Who will you sleep with next?”

“I never pretended to be anything else,” I called after her, smiling widely at the women beyond her. The laughter grew and a guy next to me held up his hand for a high-five. But Millie wasn’t laughing. Shit.

Her hand was still in mine, but our bodies were no longer aligned for dancing. I didn’t want to leave the dance floor. I didn’t want to act like Brittney’s interruption meant anything. The DJ had done what he could, giving me three sultry songs in a row. Maybe he thought he was helping me again by putting Justin Timberlake on full tilt, Sexy Back making my teeth vibrate and urging a few more people to the floor, creating a bit of a visual buffer between Millie and me and our audience, although not much of one. I needed an excuse to pull Millie close again, and I wasn’t sure she would be willing to engage in the kind of bump and grind JT demanded.