Ana danced. I danced as straight white men do, connecting my bum to the bassline and trying to completely forget how stupid I looked. Which is as easy as deciding not to think about elephants for five minutes.
Still, I was useful from time to time in steadying Ana when she was about to topple. I’d get a reward of her laughing, sweating face, revealed and hidden by the flopping black mushroom of her hair. Her eyes alternately shone or disappeared under her hair, like searchlight beams in cloud.
It was important that I didn’t fuck her, I thought. She decided to hang on me like a hard-bodied, small-breasted little apron. So I span her around and round, so her feet were off the ground and she could fly. Ana said, “aeroplane!” and laughed uproariously. When I was too puffed and dizzy to continue she leant against me, panting and laughing.
I put my hands on her ass. Oh, to steady her.
Ana kissed me, then kissed me like she meant it.
I remembered various things that were still true. I said, “oh fuck.”