Save the Last Dance for Me
Shady Lady Julie
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WARNING: For those of you who follow my work you will find that this is not my normal fare as it contains very little sex so if that's what you seek then you find most of my other stuff will more than fulfil your desires. This is a love story between a young girl and a man old enough to be her grandfather and another warning, it does contain detailed descriptions of dancing (yes that's right dancing!)
*****
"What's this Mum?"
"It's called a dance card," laughed Nancy taking the yellowed card from her daughter and opening it carefully. As she stared at it she felt herself tear up as she read the name next to the box, 'Last Dance'.
"You OK Mum?" said Elizabeth, Nancy's 20-year-old daughter, soon to be 21 on the 1st of January, putting an arm around her mother.
"It was your father's," Nancy laughed as she cheered up a little, "When your father was a young man he was a bit of a dancer and a bit of a charmer. He would collect loads of the cards where he would write his name against the last dance and then give them out to the girls as they arrived at the dance hall. He always used to say, one of them had to say yes."
"So how did you two meet?" Elizabeth said as she loved hearing the story of the father she never knew and knew it would only take the briefest of nudges to get her mother talking.
"Well," Nancy began, "When I was younger I was a bit wilder than I am today..."
*****
"Nancy Surgeon I sentence you to 100 hours of community service." The judge paused and looked over the top of her glasses and stared at the young girl in front of her disapprovingly before continuing, "And I would warn you that failure to comply with the order within six months will result in a custodial sentence."
"Sweet fucking Jesus," Nancy said under her breath as she heard the gavel bang down. "100 hours in six months, that's gonna cost me half a day a week for the next six months."
Nancy continued her muttering as she followed the directions of the court official until she found the room with the words 'Community Service Office.' Entering the bleak room she looked around at the walls where there were a variety of small postcards pinned on the boards with an assortment of labels ranging from 'Working with children' through to 'Outside work'.
Nancy was still upset with the judge as Community Service was tantamount to slave labour. What she had hoped for was the recently introduced ASBO (Anti-Social Behaviour Order) that would have been a badge of honour on the estate she lived on in a rough part of Streatham. OK she thought to herself they were being noisy and yes OK they did cause a little bit of damage, and perhaps they were a little bit drunk on cheap cider. But what the hell it was boring around the estate as she had nothing to do since leaving school three years ago at 16. The longer unemployment went on the worse her job prospects became but at least she wasn't pregnant like half her mates. Not that she was a virgin just she made sure she took precautions rather than leaving it to the idiot boys who were always sniffing around with grand promises in the hopes of getting inside her knickers. She didn't take drugs either, well perhaps the occasional spliff but nothing hardcore, she had no desire to end up like some of the skanks who would do anything for a rock or a twist of white powder.
She was still congratulating herself mentally when a voice from behind the screen in the corner shouted out, "The cards have hours per week written on them so make sure you pick one that will allow you to complete your sentence. If you don't pick one before the end of the day then one will be allocated to you."
That would explain Nancy thought as to why the room was empty, as most of the offenders just took what they were given and then try to get out of it later. She on the other hand had been given some sound advice by her older brother before she appeared in court, "If you get community service go to the room and have a pick, at least that way you won't get something shitty like cleaning out pig styes."
She ignored the ones saying farm work as it would wreck her nails and the thought of shovelling animal shit made her feel ill. She didn't fancy working with children as that wasn't as glamorous as it sounded and often involved cleaning toilets in nurseries so baby shit instead of animal shit. Picking up litter was just degrading and her hair would go frizzy in the damp, and worse of all the yellow hi-viz jacket looked awful.
Picking up a card she looked at it and considered it for a moment. 'Help at old people's tea dance. 4 hours per week must be able to dance.' "Excellent," she thought to herself, she knew she could throw a few moves on the dance floor and with old people as well it should be an easy number. Walking over to the clerk behind the screen she handed it over, mentally congratulating herself on picking out what was going to be boring but an easy way of passing the time, if nothing else it would give her something to do. The good news was that she should be able to get it well finished by the end of the year, well the end of the millennium even if it was a shitty way to start it.
The clerk looked at the card and then leafed through the ledger to find the details. Writing the address on the back of the card she held it out to Nancy but didn't let go.
"Now you listen up young lady. It says here that you need to dress correctly, jacket & tie for the boys and a knee-length dress with sensible shoes for the girls. You will have to do a trial on Wednesday which is the practise day and it won't count from your sentence. If you fail the trial then you will have to keep going on your own time until you pass."
Nancy avoided saying anything but rolled her eyes, "How difficult could it be to dance for heaven's sake?"
The woman released the card and smiled almost wickedly as she said sarcastically, "They will send a register of the hours off your sentence, just remember without their approval it doesn't count... and most come back with their tail between their legs."
*****
The following Wednesday Nancy stood outside the run down dingy hall where the sign stating 'Clapham Community Centre' had been sprayed over in a variety of paint sprays. Nancy had to borrow a dress from her grandmother, of all people and had the last school shoes she had worn that could only just be classed as sensible, well they were flattish at least.
Entering into the hall she gave the old woman sitting at the table her name who after scouring the list tutted as she said, "Community Service... community hooligan no doubt." Then looking Nancy up and down with disdain clearly written across her face sniffed, "Sit over there and wait for Mr Watts." then muttered under her breath to the woman sitting next to her in a voice loud enough for Nancy to hear, "First and last time for that floozy you mark my words."
Nancy realised that she was the only girl among the half a dozen youths that were sitting in the hard chairs, clearly uncomfortable in their jackets with ties that had a huge knot and were half undone. They were laughing and joking in hushed tones though they all fell silent when a sprightly old man walked in and stood in front of them.
"OK for those of you who don't know me my name is Bill Watts but you may call me Sir." The man paused and looked at the faces before him then pointed at two of the boys sitting there sheepishly as he said sharply, "Thompson and Jones, your last chance today. Fail and you are gone as not suitable."
He then turned and his stern face broke into a smile as he addressed the two witches who had checked Nancy in, "Mrs Gladstone and Miss Symes if you would be so kind."
Turning back the remaining audience he watched the two boys stand and walk as if they were going to the gallows, "Look lively you two." Then he pressed a button on an old 'boom box' and the sound of old fashioned dance music started to echo out as the two boys took their respective partners.
Nancy watched in horror as the two boys started to try to guide the two old women around the room in a dance that Nancy had only seen on television before in the old black & white movies. Her shock was shared by the remaining new boys who watched as whilst the smaller boy with the sandy hair seemed to be doing OK the other taller dark-haired lad was drawing squeals of pain from his partner.
"Thompson stop," barked Bill, "Clearly you haven't practised and you are still trying to kick poor Mrs Gladstone into the middle of next week. Time for you to return to whence you came and seek out something more suitable."
Nancy saw a look cross the face of the boy and his hand move towards his pocket. She had a sudden fear that things were about to turn out badly for the stern old man but to her surprise, he just smiled and stood there relaxed.
"Now son, one of two things is about to happen. Either you are getting a comb from your pocket to deal with your hair or you are reaching for a knife. One of those is a wise and necessary thing to do when looking at the tangled mop you call your hairstyle but the other will mean that you will be walking with a limp for the rest of your life. Your choice young man, make your decision."
Nancy was in awe. She had never seen someone remain this calm before in a situation that could turn very ugly very quickly but the man seemed to radiate control. He stared at the lad with cold blue eyes that remained unwavering, no emotion was visible on his weathered face apart from a wry smile of amusement.
The lad must have decided that discretion was the better part of valour and made a weak joke about having hair, then he muttered a few curses under his breath and left, kicking a chair as he did so, though had made sure he was well out of reach.
Nancy found herself gazing at the man with admiration and to her surprise found herself getting slightly damp even though he must have been old enough to be her grandfather.
"You can put the doe eyes away young lady, I am far too old for that and you won't get any preferential treatment just because you are female. Three strikes and you are out, same as the boys."
Bill then looked at the room, "Mr Jones you have passed... finally... so report for duty on Saturday at 1 o'clock sharp. As for the rest of you, we will see where we are starting from, so please take your partners. You young lady will be partnered by me, so let's see what you know."
By the end of the afternoon, Nancy was close to tears with frustration. At first, it had seemed strange being guided by the man and had resisted the lead. After frequent stops and starts with admonishments from Bill she had relaxed into his grip and allowed his gentle touches to guide her direction and movement. His hand on the small of her back burnt like it was on fire yet the reality was it was as light as a feather as was the grip on her hand as he whispered gently "left, back, side, together."
Grasping the three simple steps seemed to elude Nancy as she would forget which foot to move first or which one to move together and spent most of the time with her head staring down between their bodies trying to watch her feet. She was amazed that at no time did Bill step on her feet even when she got it wrong as he seemed to anticipate her mistake and take steps to correct it. After an hour of being led around the dance floor, they stopped and Bill guided her to a chair into which she gratefully slumped, if for no other reason than to rest her aching feet.
"So it is quite clear you have never danced before," Bill started watching the young girl's face."Your attempts to trip me up, well I assume that is what you were doing, were amusing. Your hand on my shoulder felt like you were at some point going to launch yourself into the air and it is clear that you have no idea between your left and your right foot."
Nancy felt like she was going to cry as Bill's assessment whilst harsh was totally accurate, as he went on,
"You were of course hampered by those," as his gaze travelled down to the clumpy shoes that Nancy was wearing he said, "What size are you?"
"Four," Nancy replied instantly.
"Good the same size as my Betty was, I will bring you a set of dancing shoes next Wednesday," Then leaned so close Nancy could smell his old spice aftershave he whispered, "If you do well next week then we will count it towards reducing your time served."
Bill then stood and handed her an old book that had a black and white drawing of a man and a woman on the front in an embrace. As she looked at the cover Nancy had a sudden thought that inside would be pictures of men and women in sexual poses. She almost giggled as she wondered whether he had just handed her an old fashion pornography book like 'The Joy of Sex' when she realised Bill had handed one to each of the young men as well.
"Study chapter one as it gives you the movement for the basic dances, the waltz and the foxtrot. See you all next Wednesday when you will need to perform a reasonable waltz. We will then try the foxtrot and assuming that is OK we will progress to Saturday afternoon where you can commence repaying your debt to society."
*****
The following week Nancy stood in the dance hall in the same floral dress she had borrowed from her Grandmother which looked a little strange against the garish pink and black trainers she had on. She was clutching the book in her hand that she had read from end to end and had practised the waltz and the foxtrot with a giant 3-foot teddy she shared a bed with, a gift her father had won for her at Clacton pier when she was younger.
When she had started this community service she had done so with the expectation that it would be boring and tedious. Instead, as she had read the book, well more devoured it, she had been enraptured by the magical world that had opened up. She had borrowed a video from her Grandmother of old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies and watched them in her room, spellbound by their grace and elegance.
She had even read the pages describing the Cha-Cha and the Rhumba, trying to picture what that would be like for her to perform something that seemed almost magical. At the very back of the book was a description of the tango, a passionate ballroom dance of Latin American origin in ²/₄ time with a basic pattern of step-step-step-step-close and characterized by long pauses and stylized body positions.
It was the final paragraph that made her heart race,
The Argentine Tango is an improvised, spontaneous dance, which is based on variations of walking, turning, pausing and adornments. Even though there is a basic structure and certain rules to be followed, the dancers can never truly predict how their partner will interpret the music, construct a dance or embellish it.
She had imagined herself in Bill's strong manly arms, although in her head he was younger, and could feel her nipples harden beneath her pyjama top as she pictured them dancing in a dance that relied on them having an understanding of each that transcended a normal relationship.
Bill studied the young girl's face but said nothing as he handed her the pair of highly polished black shoes that had an inch heel and a strap that fastened over her ankle. As she struggled with the buckle Bill knelt and cradled her foot gently as he slipped the shoe on before fastening the buckled with a delicacy that denied his large fingers.
"My Betty always struggled with the left buckle. Claims it was bent."
Nancy stood and it felt like she was floating on air as the shoes seemed to mould themselves to her feet and despite not being the most attractive were ideally suited for dancing.
"Of course for Saturdays, you will need a proper pair of dancing shoes and perhaps something a little more elegant to wear."
Bill's face softened as he saw the crestfallen look on Nancy's face and said quietly, "I have some old stuff of Betty's you might like to look at if you are interested."
Turning to the there boys that were in attendance he said firmly. "As you can see we have had a couple of casualties already and they won't be joining us again. Now you three young men will have to share the delights of the long-suffering Mrs Gladstone and Miss Symes between you. Please try not to treat them like they were the opposition centre forward that you have to stop from scoring the winning goal by any means available to you." Then seeing the confused looks on their faces went on, "Try not to kick the ladies."
With that the music started and taking Nancy's hand Bill led her to the centre of the room where they moved to the melody.
Nancy quickly realised a few things. When she had practised she had no music so although she knew the steps she had no idea of the pace. Additionally dancing with a three-foot teddy bear is a totally different experience from dancing with a real-life dance partner. The music changed and Bill barked to the room, "Well done on the waltz, now we will try the foxtrot."
"That was really good young lady. Now, remember," Bill whispered softly in Nancy's ear, "The basic elements of a foxtrot are walking steps and side steps. The long walking movements also involve a rise & fall action, which is similar to the waltz, although more subtle. The basic box step is also similar to waltz steps."
At that point, Bill stopped and looked into Nancy's eyes and could see the excitement gleaming in her crystal blue eyes that seemed to glow. He smiled to himself and knew that this girl was going to be a dancer. Bill had to stop himself laughing as he saw the look of panic cross Nancy's face and then it dawned on him that the girl had probably never heard a foxtrot.
Stopping he clapped his hands for attention.
"The main difference being timing, the foxtrot is 4/4, the waltz is 3/4. You already know how to waltz, so learning foxtrot will be just a matter of rhythm. The basic rhythm is slow, slow, quick, quick. The slow steps use 2 beats of music and the quick steps use one. The slow steps are long and elegant, and the quick steps are short and energetic. As already mentioned, the music is played in 4/4 timing."
Then leaning close to Nancy he whispered in her ear, "Just let the music take you." Bill tarried a moment and inhaled the sweet smell of Nancy that for a brief moment propelled him back in time to make him imagine for a second that it was his sweet Betty he held in his arms. Then pulling back, he mentally shook himself and taking Nancy by the hand he relaxed into the music.
As the session went on Nancy allowed the music to enter her and caress her as a lover would. She found herself not thinking of the steps but floating with them as they became part of her being. Every so often she would be jolted back to reality as she would stumble when she didn't follow Bill's lead, but on the whole, it all seemed to go well.
At the end of the session, Bill proudly announced that they would all be joining them on Saturday and they should wear their best outfits.
After the boys had left and Mrs Gladstone and Miss Symes had wandered off muttering about nice young men Bill turned to Nancy and presented her with a card. On it was an address not far from the community hall and clicking his heels as Nancy had seen in the old black and white movies Bill said, "You are welcome anytime."
*****
A few days later Nancy arrived at the block of flats, well it was more a grand house that had been converted into flats over four floors. Unsure which bell to ring Nancy heard a cheery voice from a set of steps leading down to the basement.
"Down here girl, and I have put the kettle on for a brew."
Entering the basement flat Nancy was surprised how big it was and listened as Bill explained it covered the whole of the ground floor of the house. At the back, the kitchen looked out over a garden that was well kept which Bill explained was a communal area and part of his duties was to make sure it was well maintained.
"So you are a caretaker then?" Nancy asked
"Something like that, " Bill chuckled with a twinkle in his eye, "Now do you take sugar and milk?"
In one of the rooms, there was a hanging rail adorned with dresses that were of a variety of styles and colours. As Nancy could see as she ran her hand across them they were clearly high quality.
"They were Betty's," Bill said with a voice laden with poignancy. "They are no use to her now with her being 10 years gone so you might as well get some use out of them. I will leave you in peace to try them on and see how they fit."
With that Bill left the room shutting the door carefully behind him.
Nancy tried each dress in turn and to her surprise and utter joy they all fitted her almost perfectly. She admired a portrait hanging on the wall looking down at her and the room and realised that she must be looking at the late Mrs Watts. Smiling at her Nancy hugged one of the dresses to her chest and whispered, "I will take good care of everything, I promise."
The dress that made her stop and stare in awe was a bright red dress that as she got dressed she could feel her heart start to beat faster. It had an asymmetrical hemline with crocheted fringes adorning both the arms and the bottom of the dress, as well as the edge of the slit that ran high up her thigh. As she admired herself in the mirror she could see that the open-top showed her bra, in fact, Nancy wasn't sure that she would be able to wear any bra under it as it showed so much cleavage. As she twirled she felt the dress flow with her movements and she felt the sexiest and most sensual she had ever done in her life.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and opening she saw Bill standing there with another cup of tea in his hand. His face went white as he stood totally still and just stared at her, to the point that Nancy exclaimed,
"Are you OK? You look like you have seen a ghost."
Bill said nothing at first, his eyes shifting between Nancy and the portrait on the wall. When Nancy followed his gaze she realised that the dress that she was wearing was the one that Bill's deceased wife was wearing in the portrait.
"Oh I am sorry I will take it off," Nancy stammered.
"No," Bill said sharply, "You are beautiful in it, as beautiful as my Betty was. It is yours now, " and with that, he turned away leaving Nancy holding the cup of tea he had thrust at her.
After Nancy had dressed in her normal clothes she joined Bill in the living room where she found him staring out of the window at the garden. She said nothing but put her arms around him from behind, laid her head against his back and could feel him silently crying.
****
The next three months passed in a whirl for Nancy. She would catch a bus to Bill's flat where she would change into a suitable dance dress and then together they would walk the short distance to the dance hall that was just around the corner. Afterwards, they would reverse the process though often Nancy would stay and chat to Bill about the rich and varied life he had led travelling around the world with the army and his beloved wife Betty.
Bill introduced her to the concept of a dance card where a single woman would write her name on the front and then as male members wanted a dance they would write their names into the card. Bill explained that etiquette dictated that people could only request one dance unless her card was empty in which case a man could dance with her more frequently.
Nancy picked up the pile of dance cards and on opening the first one she smiled. Then she opened the second and the third and started to giggle. By the time she had opened the 10th, she was in fits of laughter. "Bill Watts you are a bad man," she joked as every dance card had Bill's name in the box for the last dance.
"Well it used to work for me back in the day so saw no reason to change a winning system. Always landed me the prettiest girl, which in this case is you."
"Oh, Mr Watts are you flirting with me?"
"I am far too old for that girl, so get your skates on or we will miss the bus."
They would have the first dance together to get people onto the dance floor and from there on the pair would only pass each other as they did the waltz, the foxtrot and the quickstep for four hours with only short comfort breaks in between. It had become a ritual that everyone in the club knew it meant it was time to leave when Bill held out his hand to Nancy for the last dance. Often at that point, the floor would clear out as people watched them dance in each other's arms, looking like the perfect couple even though there were more than 50 years between them.
The dancing had become so popular that they now put on sessions twice a week on Wednesdays and Saturdays and also did a training session during the week, all of which Bill had managed to get classed as Community Service time. This meant that Nancy served her sentence in triple time though when Bill quietly told her one day she no longer had to attend the thought of not spending time in his company didn't even occur to her.
On other days they would spend time in Bill's flat watching old movies about dancing and Bill even dug out some old tapes of a TV show called 'Come Dancing' which they would watch and analyse together. When they weren't at his flat, as Bill looked after the dance hall he had access to it when it was closed, so they would often practise developing her knowledge of both the cha-cha and the rhumba. They would then perform the dance as the last dance of the sessions to the applause and delight of the onlookers.
One day as they sat together enjoying a cup of tea after the other dancers had left Nancy turned to Bill and said quietly, "Please will you teach me the tango?"
Bill thought about it for a moment, "OK be at my flat at nine o'clock tomorrow and we will learn together. But I warn you, be prepared for some hard work."
*****
When Nancy arrived the next morning to her surprise Bill had cleared the furniture to the sides of the room and rolled up the large rug, revealing a highly polished floor under it.
"What's this?" Nancy said picking up a picture frame that had a picture of about a dozen men sitting next to a crashed glider, their uniforms stained from the dirt of battle. Also in the frame was a medal in the shape of a Greek cross with a ribbon that was a purple stripe with a white stripe on either side. One of the men looked so young he was almost a boy and Nancy couldn't help but comment,
"He looks so young this one and such a little cutie. It's almost like he belongs at school. ."
"It's the Military Cross," Bill said looking at the picture with a look of pain on his face, "I am the only one left in that picture now, though most of them never made it back... Oh and that cute boy you refer to is me, I was 18 the Christmas before and joined the paras at the start of 1944."
Nancy read the inscription on the card at the bottom, "This medal is awarded to Pte William Watts, 2nd Parachute Regiment in recognition of his act of exemplary gallantry during active operations against the enemy during the Battle of Arnhem. Sep 1944."
"You are a war hero," Nancy said with admiration and awe in her voice.
"Not really," Bill laughed, "I just happened to like jumping out of planes and was quite good at dodging bullets... anyway, do you really want to learn the tango?"
Replacing the picture carefully on the mantlepiece Nancy took her place in the middle of the room that Bill had cleared of furniture so giving them some space to practise.
"The tango..." said Bill as he addressed Nancy as if they were in the dance hall, "... is basically made of five steps taken to 8 counts of music. The rhythm is slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. The slow steps consume two beats of music and the quick steps one. Tango music is usually written in 4/4 time (but also in 2/4 time) and played at a tempo of 30-33 measures per minute."
"But the Argentine tango, it says in the book..."
Nancy's voice trailed off as Bill looked at her with a wry smile across his face. "First you master the basic tango and maybe then we can think about the Argentine tango."
For the rest of the day, Bill tutored Nancy in the tango. For all he called it basic, Nancy struggled at first getting used to what felt to her like stop-start movements. "Flow with the music, feel the passion," Bill would bark as he whirled Nancy around. Eventually, it reached a point where Bill called a halt and looking at Nancy said, "Enough for today, this afternoon we will watch television."
Bill had dug out some tapes that he put onto the VCR and as they whirred into life Nancy realised these were homemade tapes taken in the nearby dance hall. As she watched she saw the red tango dress on a stunning slender woman who melted into the arms of the dapper man dressed in black trousers and waistcoat with a blindingly white shirt. Nancy was spellbound as the pair entwined limbs as they danced with a closeness that to even the casual watcher screamed they were much more than just dance partners.
Nancy said nothing until the tape had finished and then she said quietly, "That was you and Betty," she paused for a moment before she added, "I don't think I can ever be that good."
"Rubbish," Bill snorted, "Your problem is you either fight me when we dance or just allow yourself to be led meekly like a lamb. With the tango, there needs to be a fire in your veins that burns in passion for your partner."
That evening Nancy lay in her bed and closed her eyes and recalled Bill and Betty dancing on the screen and as she watched in her mind she became Betty and could feel Bill's strong arms and could smell his masculine smell. As she imagined pressing herself close to him she reached between her legs and started to stroke her clit under the covers. In her head, the music built in tempo and her fingers moved faster driving her passion and desire. She pictured Bill's bright blue eyes as she pressed herself against his body and suddenly it was his fingers in her rather than her own. As the embraces became more passionate Nancy arched off the bed in climax moaning Bill's name as she bucked and writhed.
*****
The next day as Nancy stood opposite Bill ready to start dancing she could feel her body start to react inside. She could feel her face colour slightly as she recalled her dream with Bill last night but at the same time, she could feel herself getting wet. Around the estate, she knew she could have any boy she wanted but this was a real man that she desired with her very inner being, but somehow he might be out of reach. Like a switch going on in her head, her brain demanded that she dance in a way that made him want to ravish her right there and then.
After an hour of dancing, Bill was amazed by the change in Nancy as they performed together. She wasn't fighting his directions but starting to meld with them, bringing fire and a passion that he had not previously seen. The way she caressed his body with her own in a deeply sexual yet musical way stirred something inside that he hadn't felt in many years.
"Excellent dancing girl, I think you have started to get the hang of this tango."
After a week of mastering the tango movements, Bill stood at the stairs of Nancy's flat waiting for her to climb them to her home before he caught the bus back to his own home. Despite Nancy growing up on the estate and knowing her way around, Bill had always insisted on taking her home and then catching the bus back afterwards. His rationale was that as he had a bus pass travel was free to him and he enjoyed her company.
"I think we are ready to move to the Argentine Tango but we need to be in total character for it to work. On Sunday the dance hall is closed in the evening so we could have the space and privacy to dance there."
Nancy was in heaven and clapped her hands in glee before leaning forward and planting a kiss on Bill's cheek.
Bill just looked at her and laughed, "Steady on girl... and I take it that's a yes. I will see you at mine at six if that's OK."
*****
The dance hall was in darkness and Bill carefully locked the door behind them as he switched on a few lights that created a pool of light in the middle of the floor.
Bill had insisted that Nancy had worn the red tango dress and she stood feeling a little self-conscious as Bill switched on the music and stood stock still watching her.
"The Argentine tango is different, it is filled with raw passion, packed with sex and lust. I am a man standing before you all-powerful... commanding... ready to seduce you and ravish you. You are a woman filled with desire so strong it makes you feel that your heart will explode in your breast."
Even though Bill was describing the emotion that went into the dance Nancy could feel herself getting wet as she started to see Bill not just as a friend and a mentor but someone she deeply craved to be her lover.
Bill went on, "The audience must feel the heat and the passion as we dance until we meld together as one, neither of us knowing what will happen but at the same time slaves to the music."
The steady thumping beat of the music was making Nancy's head swim and as she stared into Bill's eyes she reached under the dress and pulled off her small damp panties before walking across the floor and pushing them into the breast pocket of Bill's jacket. As she turned away and she said throatily, "Fuck me when you are ready."
Bill grasped her hand and spun her towards him, her dress flying up as she moved, to give a brief glimpse of her naked flesh before he held her close his arms wrapped around her from behind. Leaning his head forward so their lips almost touched he said, "I will fuck you when you beg."
With that, they went into the dance moving together like they had rehearsed the moves a million times, the tempo of one piece moving into the next as their bodies entwined, their legs in a tangle that surely would result in them falling yet somehow they stayed upright and continued gyrating to the beat.
Bill's jacket had gone, thrown into the darkness as they caressed each other's bodies. The touches heightened and raised each other's desire until at the point Bill leant her backwards so her head almost touched the ground she husked, "I beg you."
Lifting her by her buttocks onto a table with her legs wrapped around him, Bill pulled up her dress to around her waist revealing her hot naked flesh.
Nancy fumbled with the fastening to his trousers until she was able to undo the waist button and Bill shrugged the wide braces from his shoulders so his trousers fell to his ankles. Nancy grasped his erect cock in her small hands, gasping at the hardness and silently thanking Vernon who had sold her the little blue pill assuring her that it was the latest thing and would make a corpse hard. Nancy had discretely crushed it up and slipped it into the tea that had drunk before they had left the flat and the results were stupendous.
Bill could feel the fire coursing through his veins and Nancy's hand on his cock added fuel to the fire. He reached between her legs and felt her wetness, this was no time for finesse and as she held the tip to her wetness he grabbed a cheek in either hand and thrust deep into her. He could feel his cock gripped by the velvet folds and plunged in and out with increasing vigour as he pistoned in and out of Nancy's willing body.
After he had finished shooting his seed inside her Bill stood panting still deeply embedded in Nancy wet pussy and mumbled, "I am so sorry I don't know what came over me."
"Shut up you daft man," Nancy laughed, "That was fantastic now take me to your home and make love to me until the sun comes up.
*****
"I don't give a flying fuck, tell me which little punk is the father and I will beat the living crap out of him."
Nancy watched as her father stormed around the small flat cursing and swearing. She had been able to conceal her pregnancy for a few months but when her mother had challenged her over breakfast that she was putting on weight she had rushed from the room to be sick. When she had returned her mother stated that Nancy must be pregnant and waited for Nancy to deny it whilst her father had hit the roof and had flown into a rage.
After the night in the dance hall, Nancy and Bill had gone back to his flat and made love until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Nancy had to tell Bill the next day about the blue pill and Bill laughed and they made love more sedately but still with sufficient vigour that Nancy locked her legs around his back and climaxed as he pumped into her. From there on for the next few weeks they made love whenever they could until one day Nancy realised her period was late. She had kept it from Bill as she wasn't sure how he would react but as the scene had just proven she couldn't keep it from her Mum.
"Well, it's best you go and stay with your Aunt in Southend. Rodney, you will calm down and drive your daughter there this afternoon. I will phone my sister and let her know. You, young lady need to go and pack your things."
*****
"Please let me see him," Nancy said quietly to the undertaker who had let her in from the bitter January cold, into the relative warmth of the chapel.
"It is supposed to be by arrangement only," the undertaker murmured softly, not that the man had many people come to pay their last respects.
"I want him to meet someone," Nancy said quietly.
For the first time, the undertaker noticed that beneath her coat, wrapped in a sling was a tiny baby and he smiled as Nancy tilted her slightly to kiss the top of the head.
"I am sure he would love for his...," the undertaker paused for a moment trying to guess the relationship between the baby and the old man.
Before he could hazard a guess Nancy finished his sentence, "...it's his daughter,"
The undertaker said nothing as he was sure his hearing was going as he thought he had heard the young woman say daughter when she must have meant great grandaughter or granddaughter at the very least.
Nancy entered the chapel where Bill lay, the top half of the coffin open revealing his smart blazer with polished buttons, along with a crisp white shirt and his parachute regiment tie. On his lower chest sat the maroon beret with the winged parachute badge glinting in the soft light along with his Military Cross awarded to him at Arnhem and a few other medals.
"This is your daughter, " Nancy said as she held the tiny baby out. Then pulling the baby tight back in Nancy slipped something into Bill's top pocket before kissing his forehead gently and turning to leave.
"Thank you," Nancy said quietly as she left and the undertaker locked the door behind her. The action hadn't gone unnoticed and he returned to the body to check what had been added. Pulling the card from Bill's top pocket the undertaker smiled as he was of an age that allowed him to recognise the dance card for what it was. Opening it up he saw that the name against the box for 'last dance' was Bill Watts and in the space for the name on the front of the card Elizabeth Watts had been carefully written in. There was a small picture of the baby that Nancy was holding and it looked like it was taken when she was just a few days old. On the back was written, "We will always love you Daddy xxx." Returning them to the pocket the undertaker stepped back before bringing his heels sharply together and snapped off a smart military salute of respect.
*****
"Oh, Mum that's so sweet," said Elizabeth or Betty as her mother had always called her, "Dad sounded a wonderful man."
Nancy smiled as she remembered the posh letter arriving at the flat summoning her to a big solicitor's office in the West End of London, and the shock on hearing that Bill had left the flat to her. It came as a bigger shock to find out that in fact, he had owned not only the basement flat he had called home but the four floors above it containing another seven flats resulting in substantial rental income.
The solicitor also gave her a letter and it turned out that Bill had found out she was pregnant and had been sent away. Sadly fate took a hand in matters as he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, but as he didn't want to cause any fuss he decided not to tell her. Instead, he was making provisions for her and the child that he and Betty had always wanted but never been able to have.
He had died just a week before Nancy had returned to London with their daughter which was why she had been unable to get him to answer the door when she went to the flat on her return. When she went looking at the dance hall it was a tearful Miss Symes that had told her of his death.
Nancy would always remember the last words that Bill had written in the letter, words that were etched into her heart forever... "Save the last dance for me."
"Yes, he was," Nancy said as she looked with love at the picture that sat in pride of place on the fireplace and whispered under her breath, "I will always save the last dance for you."