August 1939
She recognised the drum beat even before she opened the doors. The sound was muffled, but unmistakable. The rhythm heated her blood. The demanding line was almost a heartbeat, beating life into the rest of the instruments, and she felt her own heartbeat accelerate in response and her face flush with heat.
The Benny Goodman tune was now a standard in all the dance halls, but it didn't matter to her how many times she heard it played. 'Sing, Sing, Sing' just made her want to dance.
The band was on fire tonight, she could hear it already. Grabbing Greta's hand, she pushed open the doors and entered the dance hall; it had been too long since she had danced. She had felt indifferent before coming, but as she walked in time with the music, she felt that elation that had been so lacking in her life recently.
"Come, There's a table free," Greta called, her voice loud to be heard over the music. She was already dragging Margot along behind her. "Someone's sure to buy us drinks and ask us to dance."
"No," she said, "I love this song. I just want to watch the dancers for a moment. I'll come find you soon."
Margot pulled her hand free and walked towards the edge of the dance floor, closer to the band. She had suspected that numbers would be down considering that war was now imminent; everyone knew it was only a matter of time and were just waiting on an official response.
It was exactly the opposite though. People were prepared for what was coming and were determined to enjoy themselves in these last days. It felt jubilant and hedonistic. The champagne flowed and the music played loud.
The swirl and flurry of skirts was a whirlwind as the dancers kept time to the swing music. Women, seemingly as light as air, were spun to a point almost out of control and their lifted skirts displayed thighs, garters and panties with each turn.
She had missed this, she thought as she watched the men in their sharp suits. They were all similarly attired, three pieces in sombre colours, most with jackets removed and sleeves rolled up.
The women however were so varied. Florals, pastels or bold designs, they were a riot of colour as they passed her. Some had short bobbed hair, similar to hers, set in finger waves which showcased the long lines of their necks. Others wore their long hair free or twisted at the base of their neck in an elegant chignon.
The bandleader was dancing on his podium as he drew his musicians through the melody. The drummer was a demon with his sticks, keeping the tempo going at a speed that made the dancers sweat. He was clearly seeking control as he began to repeat the opening beat of the song, turning it into an impromptu solo. He had an animal energy and could barely stay in his seat.
The dancers noticed that the drummer had taken control of the music, cheering as he started his extended solo. Margot shivered a little, a thrilling chase down her spine as she watched him. She had missed the thrill of being here again.
The atmosphere in the hall seemed to be straining at some intangible, pulsating boundary. Excitement reigned and her heated blood raced through her veins, pumped by the hammering of her heartbeat. There was an air of expectation so thick it was palpable. The atmosphere in the dance hall seemed heavy with sex and need. Hands were running over bodies as the dancers moved through their steps.
"Sorry, this place is so crowded. Friday nights are quite busy, aren't they?" She felt an arm brush her elbow as a giant of a man settled into the space beside her.
Turning to answer him, she noticed plenty of space around them. She also noticed emerald eyes boring into her. Fringed with the longest, thickest lashes she felt an immediate surge of jealousy followed by an immediate surge of arousal.
Fair haired and broad shouldered, he resembled some long-departed Norse chieftain. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and her words almost died in her throat. Coughing a little, she regained her composure.
"That's ok. You're right, it's very crowded tonight," she said smiling, eyebrow raised as she waved her hand with a flourish, indicating the vacant space around them.
It was his turn to smile wickedly as he registered her tone. She had recognised his game and called him out on it.
"Well, it certainly seemed crowded earlier," he said looking around with mock confusion. "Let's call it a happy accident, seeing as how I'm now talking to you!"
He certainly was charming, and she wasn't disappointed at the prospect of spending a bit of time with him.
"My name's Thomas, ahh, Tom. Only my grandmother calls me Thomas, and only ever when I'm in trouble," he said with a chuckle. His laugh was musical, but deep and gravelly. It sent a jolt through her threatening her carefully crafted poise.
"I'm Margot, pleased to meet you, Tom," she answered with an outstretched hand, and what she hoped was at least some decorum.
"The pleasure is most certainly mine, Margot." Tom grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. They felt warm and soft on her skin.
Margot snatched her hand away, flustered. She didn't want to let on that he was already having an effect on her, but judging by the smile on his face, she suspected he knew.
"Do you like to dance?" she asked him to deflect attention away from her flustered state, but he was determined to prolong the torture, enjoying her discomposure.
"Always," he said with an outstretched hand, "Shall we?"
He moved so swiftly; she had no opportunity to protest. Margot never asked men to dance, and after so long away, she would be clumsy in the presence of this demigod. He grasped her hand regardless and pulled her onto the floor.
With her hand in his, he turned her into a spin which he ended by pulling her close to his chest, while his other arm snaked around her back. She was pressed against that wall of hard flesh, the heat of which shocked her. She could feel the length of his thickening cock as it began to stir. Her head snapped up; his green eyes smouldered as one side of his lip began to curl into a sinful smile.
