When We Dance

Someone must’ve called them.

“We’re on our way to the restaurant,” Francisco says in a mellow voice, displaying a calm demeanor I’ve never seen on him.

Never had the chance to.

He is so compelling that I’m even buying it, completely forgetting that only minutes ago, I had him in my mouth, and my lips wrapped around his girth as I was sucking him with passion.

My palate tickles at the memory.

I still feel his taste in my mouth while vividly recollecting his smooth skin, hard flesh, and coiled veins.

His rippling abs, rocking hips, and firm grip.

“And then my fiancé and I,” he drones on in the same apathetic tone––which I almost take offense to––started to talk about our options. It’s her first time here, and she’s a foodie. Through and through… It’s hard for her to choose. She wants to taste everything.”

My ears perk up.

Is he talking about the food or something else?

“Isn’t it, darling?” he asks, looking at me, grinning, touching my arm gently.

This is my cue.

I smile.

“Yes. That’s me. Hard to please and eager to experience everything,” I say, my innuendo directed to Francisco, who has his eyes trained on my face.

I splay my fingers over his shoulder.

“It was my fault, sir. If there’s someone to blame, it’s me. I didn’t realize we’d been stationed for so long.”

If it wasn’t for the busy snitch who called the police.

My touch slides down from Francisco’s shoulder to his forearm, and the man’s eyes tip to my ring finger.

My first reaction is to hide my hand, but I crush my impulse with so much candor that my response remains unnoticed.

“You said you were engaged…” he comments, his posture relaxing a little.

Is he having fun with us?

“It just happened,” Francisco interjects himself into the conversation.

And damn, he’s good. I almost believe him. There’s no uncertainty in his voice, not the slightest clue that it’s a fabricated story.

“I’ve planned to do it for a while,” he says, his attention no longer on me.

I listen to him, my mouth open.

“That’s why I brought her here. I knew she’d like the place. In fact… This is our first night here. I waited for the right moment. And I thought the restaurant would be the perfect place to propose.”

The blood drains from my face.

Okay… We are all buying it now. He’s buying it. I’m buying it. I’m sure the entire avenue would buy it if they heard the story.

Can’t he just stop now before the man asks to see the ring?

“And then we stalled…” he continues. “And as much as I wanted to bring it up, this was a terrible place. Although I have to admit, sometimes I do things like that… Impulsively,” he says.