Life, Love, Dancing...an excerpt - pt 6

It's Tuesday and I'm still on track!

Here is the link to part 1 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 2 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 3 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 4 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 5 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Now, enjoy part 6:

Dang it! I had hoped that I would have parked and changed out of my clunky, comfy driving shoes before Paul saw me. I wanted to be transformed back into sexy by the time he saw me again. Yes, I'm a firm believer that shoes make the woman. I assumed since we met in a casual setting that we'd continue that way for this first date. I wore black jeans and black fitted v-neck short-sleeved shirt with a collar. My shoes would be the pièce de résistance of my outfit! In addition to being nervous, I felt slightly under dressed when Paul stepped off the curb and flagged me down. He wore black leather square toed slip ons, black slacks and, a cream colored button down short sleeved shirt with black flecked designs that flowed over his broad physique in a flattering way. Oh well! It's Saturday, I just look like a woman who picked her man up from work at his part-time weekend gig. Why do I always need to make up these scenarios in my head, anyway? No one cares that I'm in jeans and he's in slacks. Breathe, Girl! I remind myself. I smile shyly when Paul gets into the car and leans over to kiss me on the cheek.
"How are you, Mama?" I love the endearments of the Latino culture.
I gush in spite of my nerves. "Good. You? How has your day been, so far?"
I pull back into the flow of traffic. My nerves are banging around in full force and I barely hear his reply.
At the light, Paul points "Turn left here. Maybe we can find parking."
Everyone and their abuela is out. I chuckle at my own Spanglish joke in my head but say aloud. "You can tell the Puerto Rican day parade is tomorrow. Every body's out!"
"It's like this the whole week. The celebration is more than the weekend."
I glance quickly at him, "Do you go to the parade?"
"Sometimes."
"I've never been in the five years I've lived here. The few Puerto Rican friends I have say it's more for the youngsters, now. So, I don't know anyone to go with and I don't think it's the place for a single woman." My anxiety causes me to babble on.
Paul has comfortably draped his arm around the back of my bucket seat. Why does he always look at me so intently? "You're right. It would not be a good idea for a beautiful woman to be alone at the parade."
Darn it! We are approaching a red light at the top of a steep hill. You would think I just learned to drive stick shift last week instead of about twenty-five years ago. I give more gas without letting off the clutch enough and rev the engine too high when the light turns green because I am afraid the car will choke out and cut off. For a woman who is proud of her driving skills the embarrassment of that would kill me instantly. As it is, my nervous inability to smoothly pull forward has me rattled and irritated. I really just want to be parked and on solid ground. I really want him to stop observing me so closely. I really just want to be at home, alone, again… but not… really. Breathe. It's okay.
"I rarely drive such steep hills since I moved here." I giggle uneasily. I am so relieved when we turn the corner of a level street where a wonderful, legal parking space opens up.

Paul gets out and walks around to open my door. He waits patiently as I secure the ankle straps of my three-inch wedged heel Nine West peep-toe sandals. Okay, I'm back on top of my game. Sexy shoes work wonders for a girl's sense of confidence! He reaches for my hand as I remotely locked the car doors and we head across the street. Despite the flutter-flies roiling in my gut I suddenly feel … at ease. The flutter-flies take on a playful tickling instead of their earlier pin-prickly tension. Hand in hand with Paul, strolling amongst the Latin rhythms blasting from competing sources, surrounded by the various tones, voices and Spanglish conversations this… feels…good. My soul begins to float and swirl again as my body relaxed into the fluid guidance of Paul.

# # #

I reveled in Paul's "old school" mannerisms and gestures. It has been years since a man has walked on the curbside of the sidewalk intentionally. Each time we crossed a street Paul put his hand gently at the base of my spine as he stepped around behind me. His understanding of maintaining physical contact damn near made me swoon. I literally saw very little around us because I was caught up in the rapture of being treated as a real lady should be. Paul guided my steps like an expert dance partner. Anyone watching us would have thought we were in sync and had communicated where we were going in advance. His fingers on my waist pressed almost imperceptibly indicating for me to turn into the restaurant of choice. The maître d' smiled brightly and greeted us in Spanish as he slid two menus from the host's station.
"Solamente Dos?" He asked holding up two fingers.
I simply smiled and through my body language deferred to Paul who kept his hand at my waist as we followed the maître d' through the restaurant and up a flight of stairs. We entered one grand room and he turned to us to determine if this were fine. Paul voiced his desire to be in the next chamber.
Once seated, a waitress who gave off a sincerely warm vibe came to introduce herself and take our drink orders. She also spoke entirely in Spanish and I listened carefully, but did very little responding verbally. Although my undeveloped Spanish caught the gist of her spiel, I was grateful for Paul's gracious interpretation. He ordered a bottle of wine, which she quickly returned with before we could get a good look at the menu.
As we sat sipping on the smooth red wine Paul asked if I saw anything that caught my eye on the menu.
It was too soon for the wine to take effect but I suddenly felt absolutely relaxed.
"Hmmmm…what do you suggest? What have you had that you like best?"
Paul went on to describe a few dishes, but I found myself distracted again by the sultry setting and there wasn't even any rain involved. What the heck was going on? Is it possible that I was caught up in the whole sexy, Latino experience that's overly hyped? No, can't be; I certainly am not easily influenced by stereotypical propaganda. Besides, Paul was not the first Hispanic Brother that I'd dated. But he certainly was the smoothest Brother I'd dated in quite some time, Hispanic or not.
When he finished explaining the menu I asked him to make the decision.
"You know what I won't eat, so you surprise me while I go wash my hands."
A look crossed Paul's face that I had not noticed before. I looked at him closely and had to smile as I realized he was actually … unsure of himself at this moment.
I slid my hand over his as I stood up, "I'm sure I'll love what ever you choose."


*Click on photo for its source.

A "quiet" Birthday Shout to my heart & eldest nephew. I love U dearly & pray that The Creator continues to watch over U!