It Turned On A Tango

"Nobody has any business getting into bed naked with someone else if they haven't decided to have sex with them."

- Dr. Ruth Westheimer.

-

I met Eli and Louis at a

milonga

, an evening of tango dancing, which took place at a pleasant venue on the outskirts of central Cape Town. I noticed them sitting at a nearby table and Eli had accepted a dance with another man. Louis glanced to me and nodded as an invitation, a tango ritual. I returned the nod as an acceptance and we met on the dance floor. He was a little overweight with shortish grey hair, nicely dressed and appeared to be in my own age bracket, somewhere between 50 and 60.

We danced adequately together and he was a superior partner to the three others with whom I had danced. He was clearly experienced though he gave me little space and support to show myself off, seemingly trying to impose himself on me. By the time we got to the end of the sequence of dances, I was glad it was over. All in all, it had been a disappointing evening in terms of partners.

He invited me to join him and his wife and I accepted, mainly for a little company. His wife was moving back to their table at the same time as Louis and I, and I noticed that she moved with an easy gait and her well-cut, knee length skirt moved nicely to the slight sway of her hips. I made a quick diversion to collect my handbag and half empty wine glass from my original table and then took my place with them.

Louis introduced me formally to Eli who looked cool and composed, and greeted me with a warm smile. She had strong features and thick dark hair that fell just above her shoulders from a curving wave. I took a liking to her there and then.

"You dance beautifully," she said.

"Thanks to your husband," I responded very deceitfully. "He's a nice partner."

"Well, thank you," Louis broke in. "What's that you are drinking?"

"It's a dry red from the bar," I replied. "Probably a blend of young pinotage and cinsaut. It's not the greatest."

"You might like this better," he said, indicating the bottle sitting on their table. "Let me get you a fresh glass."

He returned and poured me some of their wine as I was admiring Eli's necklace and matching earrings.

"So, let's see how you like my taste in wine. Tell me what you think," he interrupted, filling my glass to the conventional 33% level.

I went through the usual tasting protocol of examining, nosing and tasting, and then formulated my opinion.

"Well," I said, "I can see from the bottle that it's a Chilean Merlot but it's no ordinary wine. I liked the black cherry, red berry and vanilla notes on the nose, and some cassis as well. They all come through on the palate. There's also a hint of spiciness which isn't what I'd associate with Merlot so maybe there is a touch of something else in there. The flavours are very intense. I'd say it is around 7 years old and ready for drinking but will last much longer. It's very well integrated, full bodied, smooth with soft tannins, aged in French oak and something like 14% alcohol."

"Well, you did ask her," Eli said to Louis, with a delighted laugh.

"So where did you learn about wine?" Louis asked.

"I did some courses at the Cape Wine Academy a long time ago and as part of that I worked a couple of night shifts in a winery during the harvest. And I usually drink wine every night, so it's what I've picked up over the years," I replied.

"Perhaps I should tell you that I'm a wine merchant," he said, "so the main question for me is whether or not you would buy it."

"Well," I responded, "it's a lovely wine to taste and appreciate but I like to eat light Mediterranean style food so I go for lighter red wines."

"That's very interesting," he said and left it at that.

"I think we should invite Gill to the tasting next week," Eli said.

"Yes," Louis agreed. "I have some Cabernet Franc samples from various producers and maybe you might find some of them interesting. Do you know Luigi's in Sea Point?"

I confirmed I did since it was very close to where I stayed. Eli fished into a pocket of the jacket that was hanging on the back of her chair and found a business card. She wrote something on the back and handed it to me.

"It will be at 6 o'clock on Thursday evening," she said. "Just show them the card at the door. There's a private dining area at the back of the restaurant and that's where we will be. I do hope you can make it but you'd better give me your number just in case there is a problem on our side."

I took a business card from my handbag and handed it to her. Just at that point, the music began to play again and I felt it was time to take my leave. I exchanged brief hugs with them both and headed for home.

*

On the following Tuesday evening, Eli called me on my cell phone.

"It was lovely to meet you at the

milonga

on Saturday," she said after the initial greetings. "Are you still OK for the wine tasting on Thursday?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "I think it might be interesting."

"I like some of the wines myself, so perhaps you will as well," she said. "The thing is that there will be mainly media people and a few buyers there. When the tasting is out of the way, it gets very boozy and Louis likes to hold court. It gets very tedious for me and I usually duck out at that stage. It's up to you of course but I thought we could perhaps get together and have dinner somewhere else."

"From what you are saying, it sounds dreadful; not my kind of thing at all," I responded. "So yes, thank you for the warning and by all means let's get away and go somewhere else."

"I had a feeling you would react that way," she laughed. "Should I arrange something?"

"Go ahead," I answered. "I'm looking forward to actually meeting you."

Thursday evening came around and I attended the wine tasting as planned. There were perhaps 15 people in the room which had been partitioned into two sections, one with a large dining table and another which was an open space and that's where the tasting took place.

Louis introduced the wines and Eli filled glasses and there was some discussion about each wine. For me it was an interesting experience but they were not the style of wines that I would consider buying.

As the tasting came to a close, Eli motioned to me that it was time to leave and I joined her in the main area of the restaurant.

"They will be there drinking 'til midnight," she said, "and if there is a police roadblock they will be spending the night in the cells. Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," I answered. "I mastered the art of tasting without swallowing a long time ago and I'm an expert spitter."

There had been two other women in the tasting and, like me, they both used the spittoon in a corner at the back of the room. For the men, it seemed they just kept drinking.

Eli had reserved a table for us at a restaurant that was just a minute's walk away. It was a place that was themed on the kind of bistro food that was popular in the 1970's and 80's but in an updated style. She ordered seared salmon in a red wine sauce and I had to go for the Chicken Kiev which had just about disappeared from most menus and was far richer than I would normally eat. A wooded Chardonnay was a wine that would work with both our choices.

"This is the first opportunity I've had to actually talk with you and I'm so glad you could make it," she said. "I recognised you straight away when I met you last Saturday evening."

"Really," I responded.

"Yes," she said. "You used to present those money programs on TV a few years ago and I've seen you in some of those panel discussions on financial matters. I also saw your presentation at one of those business women's networking breakfasts last year."

"Well," I said, "I don't do those things for self-glorification. I started my own consulting business about ten years ago and putting myself in the public eye gave it a real kick-start and it continues to attract business."

"I can well understand that," she said. "I've also read about you in a few magazines. You are a very inspirational woman and that's why I'm so delighted that I could meet you like this."

"Thank you," I said, demurely. "These days I'm much less hands-on in the business, in fact I consider myself to be semi-retired. I'm giving myself much more downtime and taking the opportunity to meet people in a personal way rather than as business contacts. That's why I was happy to accept your invitation for this evening."

In those early exchanges we were both getting an initial sense of each other. She did have strong facial features but it was nothing harsh; it came from her dark brown eyes, high cheekbones and full lips, all framed by lustrous dark brown hair. There were a few creases around her eyes but her skin had an olive tone and looked very smooth. I decided she was younger than my first assessment in the dim light of the

milonga

, perhaps mid-40's rather than 50's.

Beyond the physical attraction she had that certain something about her but I sensed she was somewhat in awe of me. I felt that the first thing I needed to do was to seek a level of personal rapport with her, wherever that might or might not lead us.

The wine arrived, she did the initial tasting, deemed it to be good and we raised our filled glasses.

"Well, here's to you and me," I said with a smile.

"Yes, to us," she said.

Our food came, beautifully presented with attractive garnishes but not overcrowded plates. It all looked elegant and attractive. I cut into my chicken which released a flow of garlicky, buttery filling that spread around the plate. I broke off a piece of chicken, soaked it in the sauce and skewered it with my fork.

"Do you like garlic?" I asked Eli.

"Yes," she nodded, "and that smells wonderful."

"Try some," I said, offering my fork to her mouth.

"Mmm," she managed to get out from a full mouth, "it's delicious."

She reciprocated with a piece of her salmon which received a similar response from me. Through the meal we talked mainly about food and found common ground in that we both enjoyed cooking. She became more relaxed and no doubt the wine was making its contribution.

"So, tell me about you," I said when we had finished eating.

"I work in the business with Louis and look after the finances, sales and distribution, and the store room," she answered. "Louis is very good with wine and he understands the market and what people want. We deal almost entirely with up-market wines so it's very much a niche market but here in Cape Town there are lots of people with money to spend. We are doing well enough but Louis undercuts himself, offering some ridiculous discounts. He knows what he pays for the wine, though I'm not sure he gets the best deals, but he has no idea of the cost of doing business, like this evening's wine tasting and all the overseas trips he makes on his buying expeditions. In fact, he is off again to Europe this weekend."

"So you know that you could be making more profit but Louis seems to have other priorities. It must be very frustrating for you," I offered.

"Yes, that sums it up," she said. "I need to deal with it and I'm drawing up a kind of governance document which spells out our different responsibilities. Then I want to make it a formal business partnership, not just a family thing."

"It's a great idea," I said. "I think many family businesses should do just that."

"What did you make of him?" she asked.

"I really don't know enough to say anything with any certainty," I replied, "but my first impressions were that he is perhaps a little vain and wants to be popular. I also think he could be very controlling."

"Amazing," she said. "You've hit the nail on the head with just a couple of sentences. Maybe he is trading profits for popularity; I hadn't thought of that. You are right about him becoming controlling and that's another reason why I want to formalise things. He never used to be that way but it seems to me that it coincides with other things. Perhaps I shouldn't go into this too far but you are a woman of the world so I'm sure you will understand well enough. I think it has something to do with his libido and virility declining. Actually, it is more like disappearing than declining. He's changed a lot over the last few years and our relationship is getting more and more tense."

"I suppose that's what age does," I said.

"Yes, I know," she responded, "but I'm not aging in that way, at least not yet."

"Anyway," she went on after a short pause, "I'm grateful that I really have a nice life overall but we need to be making more money to keep it that way. I do have my own resources from what I inherited from my parents but that's tucked away just for me."

We went on to talk about tango and the paucity of partners, especially partners with experience. We had both encountered those guys who seemed to see dancing tango as an opportunity to impose themselves on a submissive woman to the extent that we had to walk away. It seemed that tango was becoming a thing of a bygone age, at least in South Africa.

As the evening came to an end, I thought we had got on well together and had more than broken the ice. I was very much hoping we could get together again.

"How about we get together again one evening when Louis is away? Would you like to come to my place and I'll prepare supper," I offered.

"I'd love to," she said and we arranged for the following Sunday evening.

I pondered over Eli when I got home, wondering what to make of her. I liked her for her lack of pretentions and for her candour, and I liked her positive attitude to life. I liked the way she presented herself and I especially appreciated what I saw as a certain eroticism in the way she moved. I felt sure it wasn't something she had contrived; it was just the way she was.

Did I see her as a potential sex partner? Yes, I did, and she would be far from the first curious wife that I had "entertained". I wondered about how she would respond to my touch and how much she would want to please me in return. She had more or less told me that she didn't have a sex life and was missing it. More than that, her relationship with her husband seemed to be on a one-way drift and, having met him, I wasn't in the least surprised.

She also seemed to have learned something about me and I wondered just how much. I was aware that certain people had deduced that I had a predilection for women, mainly because they had never seen a significant man in my life, so maybe she might have heard those stories.

Whatever, over-thinking things was a fruitless endeavour so I tried to put it out of my mind and just wait and see.

*

Shortly before 6.30 on Sunday evening my intercom buzzed and I knew it would be the security guard. I'd put Eli's name and vehicle registration on his list and he was advising me that she was on her way up to my apartment. I went to open the front door just as the lift stopped and Eli walked out into the corridor looking as immaculately groomed as on the two previous occasions that I'd met her.

"You've got very tight security here," she said. "That guy even checked my car boot."

"So now you know we are safe," I responded, and we greeted each other with a hug.

"Wow," she said as we entered the apartment, "look at that view."

She was looking out over the main road below, the adjacent beach and the sun setting behind the ocean. All my visitors had the same reaction.

"This place must have cost you a fortune," she said.

"I bought it 30 years ago when this was a new block," I explained. "Back then I could just about afford it but today it would be way outside my price bracket."

"I'm stunned," she said, "and it all looks so modern."

"It had its second refurbishment a couple years ago," I explained. "I'll get us some wine if that's OK with you and just wander around if you like."

"Fine by me," she said and went to explore.

I watched her walk towards the bedrooms and again was attracted to the sway of her hips as well as her nicely shaped calves and stylish high-heeled sandals. I poured two glasses of my favourite Chenin Blanc, sat down at the breakfast island that separated the kitchen from the living area and waited for her to return, well aware that what she saw would give her a clear clue as to my sexuality.

"It's all so beautiful," she said, eventually taking a seat opposite me. "And that large painting hanging over your bed is very sexy."

It was a painting that an artist in Rio had done for me when I was working there. It was done in abstract style but it clearly portrayed two women lying together with their hands between each other's legs.

"It's meant to be me and my Brazilian girlfriend at the time," I told her.

"It must have been expensive to commission something like that," she said.

"He did it for free," I responded. "We were kind of friends for a while but there was nothing other than that between us since he was gay. He was into painting nudes so I posed for him a few times and that painting was a quid pro quo."

"Wow," she said. "I kind of knew that there had to be something behind that polished public persona. I wish I had a back story like yours, and I'm thinking that you've probably only brushed the surface."

"I suppose there have been moments," I responded with a smile.

After that very open exchange she knew that if I wasn't a lesbian, I was at least bi-sexual. She hadn't noticeably reacted in any particular way but I had to wonder just what was going on in her mind.

We again chatted in a getting-to-know-you kind of way for a while and I was pleased that she seemed to feel quite at ease with me. Among many other things, I discovered that her name was actually Eliane and that both her parents were second generation Greek which explained her skin tone and perhaps her features.

"Before we eat," I said, noting that time was passing quickly, "there's one thing I'd like to do. I'd like to dance a tango with you. There's just enough space here and I know how to lead if we keep it simple. What do you think?"

"That would be different," she responded, "but why not."

I put on a CD and, as the music began to play, we joined together, my right hand against her back and her left hand around the back of my neck. One thing that makes tango different is the proximity of your partner, and my proximity to Eli was intoxicating. The feel of her body and the way it moved against me, the closeness of our faces, the scent of her perfume, the sense of her hand on my neck and our breasts brushing together were a heady, sensual potpourri. By the time the music finished there was surely a very damp spot on my panties and something of a very pleasant clitoral swelling.

"That was quite something," she said, looking a little flushed. "I've never danced like that with a woman before and you led me beautifully."

"And you move very well," I said. "We must do it again sometime, but now perhaps we should eat."

I left the music to play but turned down the volume a touch and we moved to the kitchen. I'd done most of the work in advance so it was just a matter of warming some crusty bread, bringing a sauce to the boil, adding the fresh mussels that I'd bought that morning at the fish market to the sauce and waiting for them to open. I dished up into bowls and we sat at the dining table to eat.

"This is a delicious dish and so unusual but simple too," Eli said, "and it's perfect for entertaining."

"I believe it's a Swedish dish," I said.

"I think I can work it out with the tarragon in the sauce but did you use beer in it?" she asked.

"Very perceptive," I replied. "I've tried various beers but I think this one gives just the right flavour. It's that Italian beer, Peroni."

We chatted a while longer and I felt there was a genuine affection developing between us, but my feeling was that it might be too soon to push it further and I didn't want to scare her away.