She asked what had happened when she got home as everything was a blur. I was shitting myself but was saved by Rosita’s, the maid, arrival. Noticing...my mother’s red eyes, from crying, she immediately began to fuss over her and I made a hasty exit.I went to my room grabbed some things and, shouting that I’d be back in the evening, I hurried out before questions could be asked. I spent the day with friends but always, in the back of my mind, was the nagging thought that I would have to come up. ‘What?’ she said. ‘Don’t stop dancing.’ I felt her smile through the warmth and ease of her body. I felt her hips move slowly to the music once again. I felt the rustle of her skirt against my pants. I tightened my embrace, drawing her closer. Her dark hair brushed my lips and nose. I breathed deeply of her. ‘Do you remember New Orleans?’ she said. ‘Yes.’ I nuzzled the top of her head. There had been a small restaurant just outside the Quarter. We had danced to live jazz there like this. It was. More

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