If Las Vegas held within its city limits a quiet supper club with a mellow, uncrowded dance floor for bodies that were over forty and no longer interested in willing public undress, Hugo and Trixie didn’t find it.
“What did you say?” Trixie shouted to Hugo, although they were pressed together from knee to shoulder, caught in a herd of swaying, bouncing, writhing, perfumed, sweaty bodies.
“Let’s move,” he said, drawing her body even closer to his. “Over there.”
She couldn’t help but enjoy the excuse to get cuddly again. Even if she had to share him with three dozen half-naked twentyish-year-olds.
He pulled her through the crush to a corner furthest from the bar and the DJ. Finally, she could move a little. She didn’t want to waltz, but a few steps to either side would be good.
Holding hands, they danced in their dark little corner for the next two songs. At the start of the third one, Hugo leaned in and said, “Sorry about the music.”
It was top-40 pop, familiar to her from sadistic exercise classes at the gym. “Don’t you like it?” she asked.
He caught her up in his arms and began moving her in time with the beat. “I like anything that—” His dark eyes drifted away from hers. “That you can dance to.”
She’d thought he was about to flirt with her again. By the end of the song, she realized how disappointed she was that he hadn’t. She wasn’t as young as that blond girl in the white leather dress with heart-shaped cutouts over each butt cheek, but she wasn’t dead yet. Hot red blood still flowed through her veins. The nerves in her skin were firing just fine, registering the trail of his touch on her arm, her shoulder, her hip.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said.
“What?”
She cleared her throat. “I will have sex with you.”
Fixing his gaze on hers, Hugo stilled his steps, seemingly unaware of the many heads that turned in their direction. Her declaration during a lull in the music might have been a little louder than necessary. But she hadn’t wanted to have to repeat herself.
Still, he asked, “Excuse me?”
“Let’s dance a little and then go back to the hotel.”
“Trixie.”
“Hugo.”
“Let’s dance a little and then talk about it,” he said, stepping back and dropping his hands.
“Dirty talk?”
He ducked his head and massaged his forehead. She could see him smiling. “No. Regular talk.”
“Do we have to?”
He took her in his arms again. “Trixie.”
“You said that already.”
Taking her face in his hands, right there next to the girl in the white dress with the heart-shaped holes over her butt, he kissed her.