Page 87 of The Husband Diet
‘That’s more like it. Now, ladies. Point your toes and push your right leg out, rubbing it against the outside of his thigh. This is when being the same height comes in handy.’
I was nowhere near his height, but I can guarantee you, my legs found his thigh like it was second nature.
‘Good… now, gentlemen, when she does that, you tilt her back over your arm and bury your head into her breasts.’
What?
‘Like this…’
And with that, he grabbed his own partner, who was wearing a red dress like mine, only so much smaller that it looked like a mere splinter off mine. The girl threw her head back joyously as he lowered his head to her inexistent breasts.
‘Bend back, Erica,’ Julian whispered as I grabbed his forearms instinctively.
‘No – wait.’
He caught me, eyes searching mine. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m… too heavy for you,’ I said meekly.
‘You must be joking,’ he chuckled, trying to lean me over again, but I resisted, my arms now around his neck.
‘Please.’ It was so humiliating, I wanted to cry.
‘Sweetie, I’m not going to let you fall. Promise.’
I bit my lip. Could this man really catch me if I fell?
In response, he tilted his head to look into my eyes. ‘Let me show you something.’
‘What?’
‘Do you trust me?’
‘Yes.’ Truly, I did.
‘Put your hands on my shoulders now, OK?’ he said, placing his hands on my waist, and I cringed inwardly, more than aware of the flab.
I nodded, cursing last night’s cannoli.
‘Look into my eyes,’ he whispered, and I obeyed as he slowly and delicately lifted me off the floor – at least three feet – until I was looking down at him, clutching at his shoulders for something solid to hold onto. ‘See? Easy as pie. I could hold you like this forever.’
‘Oh, Julian…’ I moaned and reached down to kiss him as I slid back down his body. I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and…
‘Hey, Dirty Dancers,’ came the instructor’s voice behind us. ‘You followmymoves. Improvisation classes are down the hall!’
Julian put me down with a wink and I could feel my face boiling. He’d lifted me. Just like that. And he wasn’t even hyperventilating or anything.
‘Trust me to hold you now?’ he asked, and I nodded instinctively.
‘OK now, ladies and gents, we’re doing this again on three!’ the instructor hollered.
Soon we were learning more steps to string together and he was dipping me backward, his soft black hair tickling my collarbone as he bent forward, his hand strong and firm as I curved my back. When I came up, I giggled, and he smiled at me and lifted me again.
‘That’s not part of the steps,’ I said, and he grinned.
‘I just like holding you,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You feel good.’
‘You mean I feel abundant.’
