or

 

I'm not much to cut up the floor, but absorbed by this pretty, dark-haired, exotic girl I was left no choice.  Smiles, a chat, and some giggles opened a path for us to get down.  As the beat oscillated through our bodies we began to dance.  She had the smoothest skin as I watched her perfect legs being caressed by her short silky skirt.

 

The "Boom-Boom" beat changed to a Latin zest.  The up and down motion on the dance floor also changed to swaying hips, gliding feet, and even some twist and twirls broke out as this new Latin groove gained momentum.  The gloves were off so to speak.  Pulling her close I could smell the tantalizing nectar of her scent permeating my body.  Her long dark hair swayed back and forth from her shoulder to my shoulder and back again.  Being mesmerized by her silky mane impelled me to see it in full swing; in all its glory.  In a flash, I grabbed her tight to set the stage for the perfect move.  I pushed the dark smoky air above the floor between us allowing just the right amount of space for a Solid Gold twirl.  We were in game. It had begun. No turning back!! 

 

Face-to-face, arms crossed, and hands bonded with intense pressure stored the energy to send her spinning in the perfect twirl.  My right shoulder dipped in and down gaining leverage for a perfect left-sided twirl. That very moment I caught a peculiar look.  Was it of the anticipation of pulling off the perfect move?  Resembling a ballet dancer she effortlessly lifted off her left heel pivoting on her right leg.  Her dark hair superbly planed above her neckline as the centripetal force took her around and out of, what seemed at that time, our defining moment.  As our hands parted ways I ended up in the position a majestic matador would pose after slaying his bull.

 

O-LAY!!  --And there I stand...

 

But wait a minute!  Why has the mysterious look returned to her face, yet much more intense?

 

But wait just another minute!!  What in the hell am I still holding onto?

 

It was the answer to the mystery of her expression.  

 

I screamed in my head without uttering a sound, "HOLY SHIT!"  

 

And there it was in all its glory, a sort of "Lone Ranger" itself.  It looked like it definitely belonged in a hand, but just not mine.  And at that very moment she said,

 

"That's my finger."

 

I looked at her, and then down at my hand, and back at her.

 

All in the while, wondering "WHAT THE FUCK!"  

Not just “What the Fuck, “"Why is her finger in my hand?"”  

But a more pressing “”What the Fuck”” like,  "What the fuck am I suppose to say?"

 

So as I extended my hand, now looking like a six-fingered character on Star Trek, said, 

 

"IF I HAD A DOLLAR..."

 

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