Page 91 of Wicked

Bianca coughs champagne onto the lawn again and laughs. “My God, I can see why you like her so much.”

We all freeze, especially my sister. “Oh, shit, sorry!”

Raven and I share an awkward look, and I turn my head away.Hell.

“Anyway, I’m a simple writer,” Raven says. “And you, must be Dante’s dear sister.”

I turn back, but it’s too late for me to execute a perfect introduction. As I see Bianca and Raven hug, I like it. They are two people I respect, and maybe, just maybe, love.

“Nice to meet you,” Bianca says, obviously smitten with Raven.

“You too, dear.”

After we discuss the castle and our recent trip to Milan, Bianca heads off to catch up with friends. I compliment Raven on her dispatching the fake princess-type, and she smiles.

“Thanks, I was close to pulling something big out, like ‘Dante’s now teaching me how to fuck. He may even start anal classes next week.’”

I freeze mid-sip, and I tell myself to not cough the wine up. I somehow pull off the move and I gulp it down. As I turn to Raven, I talk low, “Careful. Naughty students get punished. And yes, even on field trips.”

Before we can talk more, guests clap, and the Italian band’s song ends. They start up again, and it’s a salsa number. Raven beams, and she turns with a smile. “Please! Can we dance?”

I shake my head. I do not dance in public.

“Then can I find someone who does?”

As Raven’s eyes sweep the guests, I don’t know if she’s serious. She will not last one song with those confident young Italians, and it will end in fists, tears, or worse.

I reluctantly lift my hand, and Raven takes it.

It has been years, but in the day, I dated a salsa teacher. A Cuban salsa teacher who liked tables, sore knees, walls, and bathroom stalls.

As I walk my student onto the dance floor, I pause and flick my hand. Raven spins around, and at the end of my hand, she strikes a pose. Chin high, elegant, poised, and drop-dead gorgeous.

38

RAVEN

My private teacher has apparently learned to dance at a near-pro level, and I don’t like it. I try not to imagine him dancing with another woman, but it’s hard. The idea of Dante dancing, and sexily, with anyone else does not help me focus.

As I spin back in the sleek satin gown, Dante pulls me in fast.

We do the same moves three times, and then he breaks it up. I’d forgotten to tell Dante, in NY I’d taken salsa lessons.

Only twenty-four, but I can hold my own, especially when I’m into it, like now.

As we move around the dance floor, I realize Dante is taking us to the side, away from the crowd.

I let him have his way, as I usually do, and we dance into a corner and under the trees. I know people are watching, but I don’t mind today.

I feel alive, like never before.

The next time Dante spins me out hard and fast, I pause at the end. I then spin ultra-fast back into and against him.

I pause for a split second against his crotch, and I, too, can make my mark. Dante groans as my butt pushes against his crotch, and I hear him hiss near my ear.

As we spin around, he flicks me out again like a whip!

His whip!

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