She whispered it into my ear, her breathy voice carrying the grin on her face.
I breathed deep, my head against hers, a smile across my lips as well.
Soft silk pressed against my eyes, blocking out the world. And my lids weren’t the only ones shielded. It was just me, her, and the rope dance.
She started slow, rocking me back and forth, circling me around her body. Then, deftly, she spun me back and forth between her hands, the length of rope she held an extension of her arms. I raced in circles, raising and lowering my arms as I rode along her path.
Each time I came to an end, we’d pause. I drunk in the feel of her body against mine, her face next to mine. Occasionally she spun me so hard I whirled into her and held her tight in a half hug for balance.
She stopped me once, this time circling me, dragging the rope across my body. I could feel her presence as she stood behind me. With one quick ripe, she pulled the rope and spun me round and round.
Another time, she again languished the rope over my skin. The length crossed my back, under one arm but over the opposite shoulder. I felt the tension she held, herself a small distance away.
I knew what was coming.
With a jolt, I was down on the ground, my head on her foot. Another pull and I rolled over.
With a few playful kicks to my crotch, the class laughed and applauded, our dance now ended.
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