Tango Provocateur (Part 2)

It was Jasmine. The aroma from the scented candles burning, the sounds of love cries by the bandoneon, and the gentle lighting that led the way into that milonga's dance hall, these reassured her. She felt they all said "Welcome!", her smile was a testimony to her feeling: most at ease as she reached the reception. She was able to find herself again," inside". It was good to see the familiar regardless of where she went, and in her opinion: most good milongas shared a universally familiar feeling in their welcoming format. This appealed to her sensitivities.

It used to be different. In the past, entering a new milonga hall felt like getting in line to go on a roller coaster ride. Scary, exciting, mostly intimidating at times but she knew she had to continue doing it if she was to get rewarded with her "tango-fix".

The excitement always began with the knowledge and fear of the fall (just like the roller coasters) there would be sensations of "Jump" which she could never say anyone can get used to. The jump is the moment that she'd go on with her decision to allow her vulnerability of becoming emotionally naked in front of others. When she would allow others to see her needs, desires and wants from them. There was of course always the highs that everyone seeks: A near perfect tango.

Many had told her of this addiction to the thrills of seeking The Tango Ghost for finding the highs. She could not understand these talks - not in early days of learning the dance, but she had learned of the ghost by herself. Now she'd do almost anything to meet with the ghost of tango. She had fallen for the charms of the ghost like everyone else she was hooked. To encounter the ghost and to be rewarded for her success in her trials needed her daring to increase with every attempt.

The gentle voiced woman at the desk asked her to spell her name again after she had collected her money and she sounded apologetic, a little hesitant in her request and hoping she had not sounded off putting or even rude to this attractive new visitor. "S..H..I..R..E..E..N" she repeated the letters, pausing enough between each to check the spelling of the letters being written into the book. She was used to these confusions with her name, it never bothered her.
-"Enjoy your evening!" the receptionist said, and guided her with her hand towards the changing area. There were others standing there talking of tango shoes and the weather.

In the main hall, the anxieties had not totally released her from their sharp claws yet, she knew that would take a little time yet. To find her feet and the feel for a new place always took a while. A new Milonga's lows and the occasional dizzy highs she knew had direct correlation to her own feelings inside, her bravery and determination although this was not always absolutely true.

Tonight was special. Regardless of what this milonga could offer by itself, for this evening her anxiety was of somewhat different nature; it was certainly not one of fear of the norm but one of expectations.

Tonight, although she did not know what to expect but she knew that she had been waiting for whatever that was about to happen.

Was the expectation for a repeat of the familiar? She had so much wished and wanted that to be so with him. Would he send her heart racing to such stormy heartbeats that it would be almost impossible to disguise them in his embrace? The unfamiliar was always easy, she had learned about ways of getting used to them, and to set her defences into place to deal with them.

The nearly familiar can bring on a different game, confusions always get triggered with these only.

He walked in. She saw him and once again she reminded herself that "Attraction is not a choice but a force!", this was the reason that drove her anxiousness forward.

She watched him. She waited to see how long it took him to spot her among the crowd. He did search, his eyes would not settle anywhere for long. Once they looks crossed, his broad smile confirmed his pleasure in finding her. On approaching her before saying anything: A warm hug, the reassurance that she had wished for from him. He put both arms around her, and gently squeezed her into his chest. This took her breath away. For a very brief moment she had none more to give and as inhaled back again she felt her blood rushed into her face. Her skin felt warm, and she could sense the heat as it travelled from her cheeks to her ears then the back of her neck and finally disappearing gradually in the back of her spine. "What a strange sensation!" she loved it.

"I just got here too, a few minutes ago, I haven't had time to change my shoes yet, it looks really nice in here, it is good, what do you think?" she asked. He nodded in agreement, and soon added "I haven't been here before, I hear it gets very busy. Popular is good, no?"

She liked the informality in many such busy milongas. At least that was how they looked to her or any strangers who did not know of the inner hierarchies and games and players who operated in this or any other milongas.

They sat next to each other. "Shall we wait for the next set?" he asked, she was relieved to hear that since she needed to get ready in her own mind too.

A man headed for their table. Before he had made his request she shook her head and smiled hoping the man would stop his approach but he took no notice. He seemed determined to want to persist. He continued walking towards her seat and stopped only when he had almost stood over her head. she decided to speak first and said "Thank you!, I am waiting ..." but she had not yet finished her sentence when the man just as determinedly walked off away from their table trying to give the impression that she was not the target for his request after all. This made them both burst into laughter as that man seemed to hover over another table a few chairs away just to repeat the same.

There were times when she would walk into some new Milonga and she'd be getting such frequently requests to dance that the whole evening would pass without her knowledge of passing time, only her aching feet could tell her that it was time to stop. She cherished those occasions. In contrast there were other times that she could have been just a transparent object sitting down for long times and no man would look at her.

"Milongas are strange places with much stranger people dancing inside them" she used to say to herself, and now she said that again in her mind and meant it once more. It had taken her a few months to manage to come to terms with both the wonderful as well as the awful times she has had at some Milongas. While she was learning to tango she had also learned that it is not her and that there are some very strange people in milongas .

Fickleness, oddity, and peculiarity are integral parts of some individuals' behaviour in any crowds and milongas are no exceptions. It is only natural for these to exist, and we must all accept and get used to them. This was another lesson she had learned by herself about dancing tango that there are so much to learn that have nothing to do with the dancing at all.

The set changed. He stood up expectantly, and said "let's pray for some heartfelt-tangos now!" . They were not disappointed. She followed him and he waited for her to collect herself in front of him.

She smiled, maybe it appeared to be nervously. He did not. Instead he wrapped her in his embrace. She felt the sensation of the blood rushing into her face and travelling to her neck and down her spine once again. She hurried to place her face next to his neck and closed her eyes to calm herself. He was gentle like he was before. They swayed and moved in harmony. That had mesmerised her before.

He made her feel like a precious jewel held in a frame of a ring . She felt like she was some chocolate that was being tasted and constantly enjoyed. She melted. She felt held like a Jasmine whose petals were caressed with the summer evening breeze. He made her feel precious by being Tender.

She felt entangled, inside herself with him, and on the outside in his arms. She was no longer anxious, her soul was touched once more by the ghost of tango.

"Tango Provocateur"
A Short Story by:
MilongaCat