Odie Larson entered through the double wooden doors of 10 Cent Sallie’s Midnight Rodeo looking for tango and he found it. The room was full, the light was dim and a row of chairs along the wall adorned with huge antlers of elk, moose and deer, held the tushes of many alluring tangueras, their eyes turning to him as he joined the group of dancers. Something was strange, he thought, everything felt right.
None of the ladies looked away as he scanned them for signs that they might be willing to join him on the dance floor. "Una Emoción" by Ricardo Tanturi played in the background. He blinked and a thin, soft beauty was in his arms, her hair was in his face yet he could see her in his mind: her small shoulders, the slight curve of her hips, her long legs, her bright red strapless dress, shear and soft, a slit up the side revealing a shapely thigh. She was nothing like Big Jane, he thought.
The name of his ex-wife barely lingered in his consciousness and was gone. He was in a perfect place, there was no room for her and her foul-mouthed language here. The volume was perfect, the rhythm of the crowd pulsed and moved in unison with the movements of all the individual couples, seemingly dancing together with a collective consciousness like a flock of birds or a school of fish.
And then he was alone with her; her hair filling his vision, the sweet smell of it permeating his skin and straight into to his lungs. He breathed her in and felt like she always had been in his arms, dancing tango with him.
He led a boleo and she performed it perfectly to the rhythm of the music, the tip of her heel reaching up his back to lightly brush his butt cheek. The taughtness of her hip as she executed the maneuver sent a vivid mental picture through her torso to his, it was so clear he could feel the curve of her spine. Everything was right. He attempted a lateral volcada, something he had only tried at practica. She performed it perfectly, everything was perfect here. The faultlessness of the scene worried him.
He looked down to see her lying beneath him on the bed that appeared beneath them, as if it had always been there. They were intimate. There was no guilt. Did he see a ring? He looked at her hand and it was ringless.
She wore only a t-shirt and no panties. She looked at him with the vacant expression of desire, of lust. It seemed her entire body was flush, her lips were moist and full, her hips were inviting, her arms open at her side, elbows bent and pressed back into the soft folds of satin sheets and a flannel quilt. He smelled milk and grapes and apples. He could hear a loud banging noise.
Odie awoke covered in sweat in the bed of his hybrid van, the air conditioning running but it was not cool. He was thrusting his hips violently into the mattress. Opening his eyes and turning his head to the back window, he could see a man, probably a beggar, he thought. The man was slamming his open palm on the glass and yelling at him. He was alone. He glanced at the gauge for the outside thermometer, it read: 108 degrees; it was going to be another hot day in Texas...
Stay tuned for the further adventures of Odie Larson and Captain Jack Stueben as they travel to south Texas to battle drug lords on the Mexican border and dance tango on San Antonio's RiverWalk and in the city of Austin. Will they be able to resist Austin Annie and her voracious appetite for men? We'll soon see.....
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