He liked that. Sitting on his stool, an elbow lazily on the bar counter, holding the tumbler and watching guys and girls dance. It was relaxing. He realized he really liked spending time at Club Aurora and in a heart warming moment, with half drunk sentimentalism, he thought that he felt really comfortable, really at home in that place. They were his people, he knew or was acquainted with most of them and the strangers, well, they were friends he hadn't met yet. Or could be. Few of the dancing people were actually good at it, most of them were just shaking and rocking randomly, trying to follow the music and have fun, not caring about style or technique. He himself wasn't good at dancing, not at all.<br/><br/>"Well, who cares" he whispered to his thick glass. Then Richard gulped down his last sip of bourbon and put the empty tumbler back on the counter, smiling at the cute waitress. Red, spiky hair, freckles, shapely, she was really pretty. And she had an unusual name, he remembered, something Russian, like Arina or Arinka. She was studying French Literature at college, he remembered, and she was funny, they always traded a couple jokes about gingers, or dogs, when they met at the Club. Depending on who was the butt of the joke.<em>Well, I'm here to have a good time. And now I feel like dancing... But maybe I should wait another minute. Or two.</em>he thought, feeling a little unsteady on his feet. Then, he noticed the woman. Right, the woman, not the girl. Because she looked a few years older than most of Club Aurora customers, but holy fuck she was hot. The word MILF formed in his brain before he could stop his train of thought. She was dancing, barefoot, and fuck she was really good. She moved her body like a sensual, lithe panther, in her short, elegant black dress that hugged her curves almost too well to be true.<em>How could she be all alone, here?</em><br/><br/>He felt that his fate just sent him a sign. He had to approach the lady. He licked his lips and boldly strode through the small crowd until he reached the dance floor, then he smiled to himself, noticing how many guys were looking at the mystery MILF with eyes ranging from vaguely curious to wolfish hungry. He started to dance too, feeling the beat reverberate in his bones, the booze he downed helping him to feel relaxed. He moved until he was close to the woman.<em>She smells good too...</em>He crossed her eyes, dark and beautiful they were, and smiled to her. He knew that he had that<em>scoundrel with a heart of gold</em>kind of smile that could break a stone wall, it was one of his best first impression weapons, and he wasn't shy to use it.<em>Too bad I'm not a good dancer like her</em>- he thought, knowing that he couldn't count on that to impress her and catch her attention -<em>I should have taken dancing classes, in place of piano.</em>