(no subject)
I’m taking Adam out to on his lunch break, and I arrive just a little bit early. The old lady, Grace [Betty… Grace… they’re practically the same name] tells me I can go down and wait for him in the dance hall, as long as the student doesn’t mind, so I thank her and go down.
That ever-so-familiar beat of onetwothree greets me as I push the door to the hall open to watch the end of the lesson.
I recognise Adam’s student as the waiter from the restaurant the other night, and watch as he starts la caza and Adam backs away from him, but allowing himself to be easily caught.
“You’re so cute.” Waiter boy tells him, taking up the lead.
Adam just continues the dance. They look good together; just really… fitting. Both with their dark skin and fiery eyes; the attitude in their stride as they prowl back and forth clearly evident with pride and arrogance. I get the feeling that I’m seeing how this really should be done and begin to make mental notes.
…Am I supposed to grab Adam’s ass like that? Definitely. Is he? Fuck no.
I can feel the bile in my throat and I clench my jaw, teeth grinding together. I have this… thing about people touching the people I’m with. Call me crazy, but when someone’s mine… I like them to stay mine for me to touch and cherish; for everyone to look on in envy at our love.
Adam twists away at the last moment, but the boy catches his wrist, and he’s spun back towards his body, so that his back is to the boy’s chest, his hips thrusting up towards Adam as they dance.
That definitely isn’t what Adam taught me. [Not until later on, anyway.] I feel sick.
There’s a pretty blush across Adam’s face and his lips part slightly as he moves back into the proper position. [HA, take that, waiter boy.]
A look of pure hunger passes over his face though, and my feeling of triumph is quickly crushed, my heart having a lovely reunion with my knees. The boy leans in so close their lips almost touch - if Adam had licked his lips [which he’s prone to doing. Wonder how his lips are still so soft…] it would’ve touched him.
They’re moving so well together, using all these really complex moves which just seem to come naturally to them, and everything just screams sex; you can feel the heady heat of it in the air as they dance together. I’m just getting this searing pain, knowing I’ll never be able to do that with Adam, and I feel wrong, as if this is something that I’m not supposed to be seeing; by the way they’re moving, I’m wondering if this could be classed as voyeurism.
The feeling I’m getting from watching them, I just want to be sick. I want to ring that boy’s pretty little neck, and Adam… I don’t know what I’d do to him, but a surge of pure violence just shot through my veins [I’m sure I’d think of something, even if he is “far too cute” or whatever he said.]
I can’t stand this. “Dancing is the vertical wish of the horizontal act…” Adam had told me that last night. [Not even 24 hours ago. Wow, Jess, you have such great luck in relationships, God. If it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.]
I turn and leave.