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Her hair hung framing her face, her fringe just above her eyes. She took a second to assess the situation. She looked around; I thought she was looking for a security guard or a shop worker. My hands were sweaty, my mouth dry. She looked back at me, a decision made. “Follow me.” Turning, she headed to the changing rooms. I followed two steps behind. There was no-one else around. She went to the last cubicle. “Wait here.” The door closed. Sounds of zips, the rustling of fabric, shoes on the wooden floor. The door opened, just a fraction. Her bare arm snaked out, gripping mine, pulling me inside. She stood, clad in the lime green of the bra and knickers, her skin lightly tanned, tall in her heels. She closed the door, sliding the bolt across. Hands on hips, legs slightly apart, shoulders back, chest thrust forward. I gaped at her. She raised her eyes and I shut my mouth. “Stunning.” I said, and meant it. She smiled, turning a full circle, slowly. The mirror behind her meant she could. ”He stood and grinned as he patted me on the shoulder, taking Sue’s proffered hand. Sue smiled up at Francis, who was a good half foot taller than Sue even though she was wearing four-inch heels, and he returned her smile. As Francis led Sue to the dance floor, I remember thinking what a handsome couple they looked. And of course, many of boyhood fantasies about beautiful white wives with handsome and masculine black guys came rushing back.Over the year I’d seen Sue dance with plenty of guys at various functions, and it always gave me this bizarre mix of a knotted stomach and extreme excitement. But this was on a different level. I felt like I was having kittens as my pulse raced and I tried to control my feelings. I think the fact that Francis was black, his size and that Sue obviously liked him all combined to ramp up the excitement and anguish beyond anything I’d known before.As they danced, everything was very respectable and proper. The first song was another slow number, and I.
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