Amsterdam Thirteen: The Gift of Vanessa

Vanessa called just before eleven to let me know she was running late. “I be there in half hour.” I said okay and chilled out with another seven Euro Heineken. If I had been thinking I would have stopped at Albert Heijn to grab drinks and food. I shrugged my shoulders, turned on my laptop, and checked my email. The friend I’d contacted earlier had replied with a gigantic image of a thumbs-up. As if I needed confirmation that I was making good decisions. Yet, I did. The depression had been so severe and the latent self-defeating moralities so ingrained that reinforcement helped significantly. I didn’t like that I needed external acknowledgment, though, but I recognized that it helped at this stage of recovery.

As I drank and waited, looking mindlessly at YouTube videos, bubbles of thought emerged. “Why is Vanessa running late?” Huh? Who said that? “Do you think she’s with another client right now getting her brains fucked out?” Hey! Whoa, who is this guy? Voices of self-doubt, defensiveness, and possessiveness were screaming to reassert their dominance. They did not like my moves to liberate myself from them one bit and they were putting on a full-court press to suck me back into the vortex of depression and worthlessness. Fuckers.

It’s funny, in a way. How do you fight against aspects of self-identity that conflict with other aspects of self-identity? Is an even split of polar opposites constantly battling for control a sign of bipolar disorder or schizophrenia? Is the dispersal of many “selves” with relatively equal weight evidence of multiple personality disorder? Is the dominance of one primary identity over all competing others coherence, sanity, wholeness, and health? Who determines these things? I suppose, in the end, it is I who determines my own truth. But how? What are the steps one must take to determine who one is, who one wants to be, who one can be?

I shelved the thoughts when the phone rang about 11:30. I answered and the concierge said “Miss Vanessa, sir.” I told him to send her up without even wondering if that was allowed. He responded, “Very well, sir.” In a few minutes I heard a knock on my door. I opened it and Vanessa was striking a pose, hand on doorframe with arm extended, head tilted, sexy eyes peering up, a wry smile, and one leg bent back behind the other. I took a step back and just admired her for a second. She blinked and giggled, “What, you want me in doorway all night?” I stammered and then just stopped trying to speak. I grabbed her by the waist and twirled her inside. She squealed and laughed. “You are crazy.” She was wearing the same coat as the night before along with a black miniskirt, sheer black stockings, and shiny black heels. The stilettos added at least another inch in height. The top of her head still barely rose to my nose. Her hair was made up differently, wavy rather than straight. Her lipstick had a pink sheen, but her mascara was the same deep black. Her skin was smooth and snow white. I don’t know how she did it, but she came across as a virginal sexpot.

She unzipped her coat and let it drop to the floor. Her trademark, apparently, her way of saying “Yes, I am here. Let the adoration commence.” So it is and shall be done. She wore a long-sleeved black sweater, stylish. The miniskirts she wore fit her personality—a few feathers of her personality, anyway. She had a large bag with her this time, Coach it appeared. Sex toys? A change of clothes? I laughed to myself as I wondered. It had dropped along with her coat.

Vanessa appeared to be surveying the room with her chin held high and chest out while turning a 180 back to me. When her gaze came to me she put her hands on her hips, tilted her head to the left, and gestured with her hand, “You want neighbors join us again tonight?” She looked disgusted as she said it, but then she shook her head and slowly smiled. I thought if she had chosen she would have been a great actress. As it was, I couldn’t tell how much of her was her and how much was her playing escort. Did I care? Yes and no; the new me didn’t give a shit and the old me worried itself sick. I let the new me climb on top of the old me and jackhammer him with punches while I kicked the door closed with my foot and offered Vanessa a drink from the fridge. She wanted wine so I opened a small screw-top bottle of cabernet and poured it into one of the wine glasses that came with the room. I grabbed another Heineken for myself.

As Vanessa sipped from her glass she said, “I hungry. We order food, no?” She grabbed the room service menu and leafed through it. I sat down on the edge of the bed and marveled. She was claiming the room as her own. I loved watching her do this. So casual and self-assured. She tilted her head and then shook it no. Apparently, she was dissatisfied with the menu. She looked at me and pointed at the menu, nonverbally asking if I wanted anything. I shook my head no. My wallet heaved a sigh of relief. I had told her I was a millionaire and she must have believed it. Of all the roles to play with an escort, millionaire is fucking ridiculous. Shrooms and coke, a mixture that can convince anyone that everything wonderful is true. Still, there was a part of me starting to feel that way again. Role-playing is just too fucking fun to stop.

I went to the drawer and pulled out the coke and the CD case. I looked toward Vanessa; she was smiling and giving me a thumbs-up. I happily sighed. Living was the point of this vacation from my vacation. Vanessa spoke after ordering. “I no know you still have coke. I thought you do rest today while I gone.” I continued mashing the coke and said without looking, “Why, because I’m a drug addict?” She laughed and said, “Yes, baby, because you are addict.” I shook my head and laughed. I diced up the coke into lines and Vanessa said, “You know I joking, yes?” I turned and smiled at her, nodding my head. She walked over, bent down, and kissed me on the forehead. “Good, because I tease you.” She stood back up with a child’s mischievous grin on her face and giggled. “I like you. You are easy, um, how do you say? It is good with you?” I responded, “I’m easy to be with?” Vanessa jumped a little and pointed, “Yes, that is it.”

When I was finished I offered Vanessa a bill and then started rolling my own. Before she squatted to do her line she said, “I ask about coke because I bring some with me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small baggie filled with white powder. “It is gift for you. I thinking of you all day, baby.” I looked up at her, not sure whether I believed her or not. She rolled her eyes, “Okay, not all day. I sleep most of day, but I think of you before I come and get you coke so we have fun, you know?” I stood up, put my arms around her waist, looked into her eyes, and said, “You are sweet. How come you are so wonderful?” Vanessa blushed and turned away. She raised her hands in the air and slithered her entire body like a snake before whipping around to look at me. Her eyes were like cold steel. “I am not so sweet.” She dropped her head and her hair covered her face. She brought her head up just a little, just enough so I could see her eyes, which now appeared to be filled with desire. “But you, baby, for you I am sweet.” Then she whipped her head back, jumped into the air, and laughed as she landed. She held her hands to her mouth and giggled.

I asked her, “Are you high right now?” Vanessa stood up straight. The expression on her face changed to shock and then … I couldn’t tell. She asked, “Why you say that? You no like me?” Her voice was drenched in sadness. She was hurt! Shit, I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I was just shocked that she was able to shift gears so fast. I said with tenderness, “Oh, Vanessa, I like you more than you can imagine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you at all. It’s just—you’re amazing! I’ve never met anyone like you. Ever. You’re a gift.” Vanessa squinted her eyes and suspiciously asked, “Are you real? You are strange. I no can tell if you joking or serious.”

I walked to Vanessa and calmly put my hands on her cheeks. I looked in her eyes and said, “I am serious. You are unique. You made me so happy last night I couldn’t wait to see you again. I’m thrilled that you’re here.” Vanessa twisted her hips back and forth, put her index finger in her mouth and bit down, and looked up at me with those huge, glistening brown eyes. She didn’t say anything for at least a minute. We just looked into one another’s eyes. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and I swallowed several sighs. My heart said, “Wow, oh wow.”

Vanessa let her arm drop and her finger went along for the ride. She turned around and walked toward the bathroom. She turned back to me and playfully smiled. “You want to marry me, no? Yes, I can see you do. I pee now.” She laughed and popped out of sight.

I stood there dumbfounded. “What the fuck? I’m strange? Damn, she is weird in the best possible way.” I bent over the CD case and snorted a line. God, that felt good. Vanessa came out of the bathroom and said, “You start without me?” There was a knock at the door. Vanessa turned around and opened it as I slid the CD case and baggie of coke out of sight. She invited the bellhop inside. He pushed the tray of food inside about ten feet and Vanessa said to him, “Good. Leave it there. Thank you.” The bellboy paused, perhaps waiting for a tip. Vanessa looked at him like she had me when I left the door open. She said, “What? You want goodnight kiss?” The bellhop sheepishly walked out of the room.

As Vanessa pushed the cart past me to the table next to the window, I said, “You were kind of mean to him. He probably wanted a tip.” Vanessa lifted the silver lid on the tray and shifted the food onto the table. “Well, he no say he want tip so how I know? I no like him. He is creepy.” I laughed. “Okay, whatever you say.” Vanessa sat down to eat and said, “Yes, whatever I say.” She laughed and started eating. She had ordered a cheeseburger and fries. I loved it; out of all the gourmet possibilities on the menu she went with a cheeseburger and fries. She offered me a bite of her burger. I took a big bite and sat down in the chair next to her. “Eat some fries. I no eat all of this. It too much.” I ate a few fries, but with the coke I wasn’t really hungry.

Vanessa exclaimed, “Oh! You have music! Your computer, YouTube, yes?” I got up and turned on my laptop. I opened a browser and went to YouTube. I asked Vanessa what types of music she liked—besides Romanian. “Romanian is the best. Electronica, okay. House, trance. But, no, I like Romanian best. Search for”—Vanessa said a word or perhaps a series of words that I could not understand. In fact, I doubted I could even form some of the sounds phonetically. Isbestpolkinacusca? Maybe. I had no idea. I typed in “Romanian music” and clicked on the first link. Vanessa turned to me with her eyes wide. “How you know this band? This is great song!”

Vanessa got up and began dancing. She danced her way past me to the dresser with the CD case and got down on her knees. She rolled the bill I had given her and snorted a line. She came up for air, her back arched and her face parallel to the ceiling. It was a striking pose. She looked like she was having an orgasm. I supposed she was, in a way. I got up and moved to the dresser. I rolled a bill, assumed the position and zoomed one of the two lines left. Like Vanessa, I arched my back, looked up at the ceiling, and felt radiance throughout my body. Oh, heaven! Internally I kept muttering, “Wow, wow, wow.”

I hopped up off my knees straight to my feet. I was in a tiger’s crouch and I looked over at Vanessa and said, “I am a god and you are my goddess.” She squealed and pretended to cower away from me but I was over to her, wrapping my arms around her, and tossing her to the bed before she could move another inch. I stood above her and held my arms out, “Behold, Zeus!” She laughed up at me and started lifting her sweater. She had it past her black-and-red bra when I remembered that I wanted sexy photos of her.

“Wait!” I commanded. I went to a drawer to look for my camera. Not in that one, not in that one. Vanessa was impatient. “Hey, come on.” I looked back quickly, smiling, “Just wait, I know where it is.” She looked at me with curiosity and I turned back to try another drawer. Bingo! I grabbed the camera, stood up, and then slowed to a stop. I peered down at her without saying a word. She looked at the camera, paused, and then asked in her sexy broken-English accent, “You want pictures, baby?” I responded confidently, “Yeah, baby wants pictures.”

Vanessa kneeled on the bed and took off her sweater. I quickly turned on the digital camera and hit the button to click a picture as she struck several poses. Shit, the camera setting was on video. I said, “Oh, wait,” and Vanessa said, “Hey, I don’t want to wait. Come on, what you do?” I changed the setting to automatic and aimed the lens at her as she arched her back, tossed her hair behind her, and puckered her mouth into a kiss. I clicked the camera. She kept changing poses and I clicked and clicked and clicked. I told her to remove her skirt and she looked at me like she was my slave and I her master. She wore matching red-and-black underwear and I started clicking again as she assumed various poses. I walked around the bed as she turned this way and that, sometimes lying down, sometimes rising to her knees, occasionally getting to her feet to jump in the air above the bed. By then I just held the button down and the camera clicked-clicked-clicked unmercifully for about 30 seconds. Only ten minutes had passed but Vanessa looked spent.

“Okay, baby, we take break.” The camera’s memory card was used up, anyway. I took it out and replaced it with my other memory card, just in case. Vanessa went to the table and did the last line of coke. She turned to me and said, “Water. Need water.” I went to the bathroom and filled a glass from the tap. I filled one for myself, too. I brought them back in the other room. Vanessa was naked. I gave her the water and drank mine. I took off my shirt, removed my shoes and socks, and then the rest of my clothes. I climbed on to the bed and slid next to her. She turned toward me, looked me in the eyes, and gently ran her fingers around my neck and down my chest. She said nothing and I watched as she moved her eyes around looking at all parts of my face and upper body.

I touched her face, my fingertips on her lips, and then I let them slide down her chin, neck, and between her breasts. She moved one hand around my ear, down the side of my neck, over my shoulder, down my arm below the elbow, and let it rest on my love handle. If I had been with any other woman on a “second date” I would have recoiled and moved her hand away. But I found I loved feeling her touch me anywhere on my body. I wasn’t self-conscious with her and perhaps that’s the allure of being with an escort. If Vanessa was making a judgment she showed no signs. I wondered about other men she might have been with, possibly obese, unclean, and vulgar. I may not have had a perfect body or beautiful looks, but I was clean, playful, and accepting. I also imagined she had been with young men who were fit, tanned, wealthy, adventurous, and fun. I didn’t know one way or the other, though. How experienced could she be given that she was nineteen? If she had followed Dutch law then she’d only been working a year or so. Still, if she worked four days a week and saw two or three men (or more) some nights then she’d been with a lot of men in a relatively short time. Given her comfort level with her body and her sense of “what to do” I’d say she was plenty experienced. Perhaps she was a prodigy, an escort prodigy. Why not? Who says prodigies have to be confined to artists or mathematicians?

We continued caressing one another and kissing, first on the lips and then other parts of the body. Vanessa slowly rose and walked over to her Coach bag. She retrieved a condom in its wrapper and bit it open as she walked back to bed. She slid up between my legs, put the condom in her mouth, and proceeded to slide it on me. I leaned my head back and groaned. I was still feeling the effects of the coke as Vanessa gave me pleasure. She went from slow to fast, high to low, and everywhere in between, taking a break now and then to crawl up and kiss my stomach or bite my chest hair. She’d wiggle her head and her long hair tossed this way and that. I propped up pillows underneath my head so I could watch her, but often enough the sensations were so powerful my eyes closed shut and I gasped.

At a certain point it was obvious I wasn’t going to cum. She was masterful, a maestro, but the coke was affecting my ability to have an orgasm. What an experience, though, tantric in the sense that I lost everything but a focus on the sensations. In many ways, the experience was better than having an orgasm. I felt deliriously sensual and sensitive well after Vanessa disconnected her mouth from me and crawled off the bed.

She dumped coke from the baggie onto the CD case. She used my room key to mash and dice it, forming a few lines. She zoomed one line as I crawled out of bed to join her, my knees weak and my body buzzing with sexual electricity. I crept up next to her and she looked at me. She said, “You’re shaking! Are you okay?” I smiled up at her—I was still on my hands and knees and she was kneeling—and said, “Better than okay. My whole body…” I couldn’t finish as my body convulsed. My eyes closed and all I saw was blinding white light and a feeling of all-encompassing ecstasy. I felt my body shaking, but this time it was Vanessa. I saw her face, the face of an angel. She looked worried, though. I smiled, open-mouthed, and said, “I feel nothing but love.” She started laughing hysterically. She slowly slumped to the ground and convulsed with laughter.

I pulled myself up to the dresser and tried to roll a bill. I couldn’t do it. Vanessa, still laughing a little bit, got up and helped me. “Are you sure you even need any?” I laughed and said, “No, probably not, but I’m going to do it, anyway. Thank you for rolling the bill.” She smiled then said, “Don’t blow the coke everywhere!” She giggled and said, “You’re a fucking mess!” I got to my knees and felt a little bit of my composure returning. My body was still pulsing with sexuality, but less intensely. I said, “It’s your fault, Vanessa. I thought I was going to die a couple times when you were blowing me. It still felt like your mouth was on my cock when I climbed off the bed. I was going toward the light when you shook me. I almost made it.” Vanessa fell back again laughing. I laughed, too, before vacuuming one of the fat lines she generously created. “Yes!”

I shot up and walked to the fridge, stepping over the laughing, convulsing, jiggling Vanessa on the way. I grabbed two bottles of water. I guzzled mine in seconds and then handed the other to Vanessa. Well, I tried to hand it to her, but she was laughing so hard her face was red. She wasn’t making a sound; it was that hardcore silent laughter that completely incapacitates a person. I set the water bottle down next to her and then just watched her breasts jiggle. I knelt next to her and told her if she didn’t stop laughing I was going to suck on her nipples. She yelped laughter even harder and so I started sucking on one of her nipples while I massaged her other breast with my hand. She put her hand on the back of my head and slowly the laughter faded. She was breathing heavy, exhausted from laughing so hard. She said, “Oh, wow. That was fun. You suck on my breast now? Okay.” She giggled. “Feels good. Mmmmm.”

I cradled her in my arms and lifted her up. I walked her to the bed and gently set her down. I went back to get her water bottle and then lied down next her. Vanessa grabbed the bottle from me, propped herself up on an elbow, and gulped the whole thing down as fast as I had. She tossed the bottle onto the ground and lied back down, snuggling her head on my shoulder and chest. We laid in that position for a long time. My chest heaved up and down and her head bobbed with it. I could feel her breath on my chest. Considering the amount of coke we’d done it was surprising how relaxed and quiet we were. Now and then I slowly caressed her hair and she would stroke my chest and stomach, occasionally letting her fingers play with my pubic hair.

Vanessa looked up at me with a suspiciously quizzical glint in her eye. “Why you still wear condom?” I laughed. “I forgot to take it off.” She shook her head. “You are silly. I take it off for you. I have more condoms.” She looked up at me. “You are strange.” As she removed the condom from me, which hurt a little since everything had dried, I asked her, “Why do you think I’m strange?” She climbed out of bed and threw the condom in the little trash can next to the dresser. She grabbed her phone and climbed back into bed next to me, crossing her arms on my chest, and planting her chin on her forearms. She had an alert but otherwise blank look on her face. “You are strange.” I said, with exasperation, “You keep saying that, but I don’t know why. Why do you think I’m strange?” She started fiddling with her phone, looking at SMS messages or something. Without looking up she answered, “Because you are strange.” I laughed in spite of myself. “That’s not an answer!” Vanessa looked up at me with a silly grin. “You are strange because you are strange. How I know why you are strange? You are strange.”

Vanessa went back to playing with her phone. She was rubbing one of her legs against mine and wiggling her hips, tickling my public hair with her inner thighs. I said, “Well, I think you’re weird.” Vanessa furrowed her brow without looking away from her phone. “I am not weird. I am normal girl.” I guffawed. “Heyyyyy!” Vanessa looked at me with a frown. “Why you laugh?” She looked back down at her phone. She looked contemplative. “What you think of me?” I asked her what she meant. “I mean what you think of me?” I said, “I like you. I think you’re incredible. Sexy, smart, playful, wild, full of life. You’re extraordinary.”

Vanessa tilted her head back and forth like a ticking clock while continuing to look at her phone and occasionally push buttons. She made a funny face and said, “Meep,” then stuck out her tongue. She changed facial expressions immediately and became serious, “I am normal girl, you know?” She looked up, her brow slightly furrowed. “You think I like this job?” I didn’t know exactly how to respond. I said, “Well, I don’t know. I mean, as far as I’m concerned we’ve been having a ball the last two nights.” Vanessa smiled at me in the way that made her eyes twinkle. “Yes, that is because you want to marry me!” She stuck her tongue out at me and then said, “Yes, you are in love with me, I know.” She giggled and I laughed.

Honestly, I thought falling in love with her would be easy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had more fun with a woman than I was having with her. There was one woman I dated a few months after being separated who came close. But other than her I had to go back a few years before getting separated from S. Once upon a time, S. and I were close and we played our romantic hearts out together. Until meeting Vanessa, I think I had all but given up on ever experiencing anything like that with a woman ever again. I wasn’t sure why it was so hard to meet women like Vanessa, but I knew the reason was because there just weren’t many women like her.

But then again, anyone meeting S. in a public forum would never have guessed how wonderfully silly and playful she was behind closed doors. Maybe many women are like Vanessa but they hide themselves from the world to keep, as Vanessa would say, the creepy guys away. Still, I’d been in bed with many other women besides S. and only a couple were as playful. Now here I was with the Queen of Playfulness in bed with me. Yes, falling in love with her would be easy.

Vanessa put her phone down on the bed beside me. I rolled her the other way so I was on top of her. I kissed my way down her neck, past her breasts and stomach, and laid my head to rest on her hip. Vanessa propped herself up on pillows. She said, “I am normal girl. You think I want to do this job forever?” I shook my head no. I asked her, “Is it bad? I mean, we’re having fun, but what is it like when you’re with other clients?” Vanessa rolled her eyes and said, “Why you ask me that? I no want to think about that.” I said, “Yeah, but you’re asking me if I think you like this job and I don’t know because, well, it seems like you’re having fun with me. Maybe you’re just the world’s best actress, though.”

Vanessa smiled and put her hand behind her head, “Yes, baby, I am great actress. I make you fall in love with me and then you marry me. You have to pay me money now, but when we are married I give you discount.” I laughed my ass off. Vanessa was laughing, too, but then she said, “Seriously, I am normal girl. This is not what I want. I want to go to school. My sister, she is medical student in Romania, intern at hospital. This is what I want. But my papa, he only have money to send my oldest sister to school. Me and my brothers, there is no money for school.”

“On the escort website it said you are a pre-med student.” Vanessa frowned. “I want to be pre-med student, but I need more money.” I asked her, “Is that why you work as an escort?” Vanessa shook her head at me like I was the dumbest box of rocks she had ever seen. “No, I escort because I like sex with greasy fat men who hate women.” I looked at Vanessa, studying her face. “I’ve wondered about you a little, about how it is for you being an escort.” Vanessa looked at me with authentic seriousness and said, “It is bad.” That worried me in a far more serious way. Before I could say anything, Vanessa said, “Baby, it is okay. We no talk about this, okay. You are good man. I like you and we have fun.” She stopped speaking, curled her lips into a devilish grin, and said, “Still, you are very strange.”

I jumped up from her hip on top of her and she squealed, “Aaaiiieeee.” I came to rest nose-to-nose with her and she wiggled her nose against mine. She lifted her head to kiss me and then lowered it back down. Her eyes softened considerably and she looked at me tenderly. “I tease you. You are strange in good way. I like it. Really, you are normal person, not mean or nasty. We have fun.” She paused before continuing, “I am normal girl, you know? I want to marry, have children, work in medicine.” I was beginning to understand what she meant when she said she was normal. She meant she didn’t come from a broken home, she didn’t want to be an escort her whole life, and she had dreams and goals similar to many others in European society.

When she showed her humanity in such simple but genuine ways by allowing herself to be vulnerable with me, I saw how beautiful she really was. She had a natural physical attractiveness, but it was her spirit, creativity, intelligence, and integrity that made her radiantly beautiful. I respected and admired her as a person. Honestly, I wished her nothing but happiness and fulfillment in life. I gazed into her eyes and she relaxed into mine. I said, “You are a wonderful human being. I think you are special and I am so happy I met you. You deserve a good life.” Vanessa rolled her head to her side and opened her mouth in a smile. She didn’t say anything at all. She just looked up toward the ceiling with joy in her eyes. My heart expanded.

I made myself get up to get water for us. I couldn’t lay there looking at her any longer. I felt like I was about to fall in love with her in a much more serious way and, well, that didn’t seem like a good idea. Still, my heart was pounding as I filled two glasses with water and brought them back to bed.

We both drank and I put our glasses, still with water in them, on the end table next to the bed. I lied down next to her, facing her, and she rolled onto her side to face me. We embraced. Neither of us spoke a word for perhaps a half hour. We simply looked at one another now and then as we laid in one another’s arms. I felt a tremendous sense of intimacy. Gestures and facial expressions spoke volumes. I found it strange that so little could be said after such a short time together and yet such a rich understanding had developed. She was so beautiful, so tender. I felt at peace within and with her.

Vanessa licked her lips and said, “Music.” I smiled and got out of bed. I snorted a line and Vanessa followed me out of bed to chop up more coke and formed more lines. She vacuumed one as I went to YouTube and got out of the way. Vanessa did her thing. Once again she found the Romanian Frank Sinatra. She told me “He is most famous singer in Romania. Very talented.” Yes, Vanessa, you told me. He was okay. The music was a bit schmaltzy, really, but I was flying again and Vanessa was naked and sexy so I didn’t give a shit. She walked to the closet next to the bathroom and put on a robe. Damnit! I laughed internally. She grabbed the other and tossed it over to me. Vanessa danced, her robe flying open and closed as she did so. It was sexier than if she had remained nude. I watched her dance, grabbed my camera, and started filming. I was so glad I’d bought a camera with video capabilities. She smiled and twirled and moved her body like a cobra being hypnotized by a flute. Her eyes, wow, her eyes filled with the awe of a mystic in ecstasy.

She danced for maybe fifteen minutes and I filmed the whole thing. The only time she’d stopped her trance-like movement was to switch songs. When she looked like she was about spent I stopped filming and put the camera down. I walked over to her, put my arm around her waist, placed her other hand in mine, and gently danced with her. She breathed heavily with a lazy open-mouthed smile then let her head fall against my shoulder and chest. I slowly turned her as we did a two-step in silence. I could feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest, but I felt her heart beating even faster against the ribs on the right side of my body. I could feel her breath against my chest and noticed it was slowing. She had placed her hands around my waist and they hung loosely on either side of my ass. Finally, she took a deep breath and pulled away while keeping hold of my hand. She twirled slowly beneath it and I pulled her back into an embrace. She looked up at me with stars in her eyes and we kissed.