She had begged him over and over until he’d finally caved and reluctantly agreed to do it. After all, he still felt like he owed her something. Her radiant smile when he’d said yes almost made it up. At least ‘til they had their first lesson. He couldn’t understand it: all the other couples seemed to have no problems at all. They fluttered around the room: elegant, graceful and in perfect unison. But he and Sara could barely manage to get the basic steps right without him constantly stepping on her toes.
Sara had laughed the first time but by now her face was slightly contorted in pain and her attitude rather cold and distant. That didn’t exactly help him to sway her around. The others had given them a few pitying glances and then continued to float around the room and the teacher was nowhere to be seen. Apparently he’d given up on them.
“I don’t get it”, Michael thought while trying to bend Sara in a dip. “I’m a structural engineer. I broke my brother out of prison. I orchestrated the most elaborate escape there is and managed every obstacle in the way but I’m unable to move the love of my life around in a simple square move?”
He sighed inwardly and grabbed Sara’s waist firmly to once more try this sidespin.
Sara was frustrated, she so wanted this to work. Last night she’d dreamt about herself and Michael gliding over polished parquet floors. Him in a dashing tux and her in a floaty chiffon ensemble. Fred and Ginger here we come! But looking at Michael and his desperate attempts to steer her through the other couples without bumping into them or stepping on her toes or twisting their arms in a knot after a swirl she finally realised that Mastermind Scofield wasn’t a genius when it came to dancing. Her feet ached and she was nothing short of screaming at him when he once more stepped on her left foot rather violently.
“Oh darling I’m so, so sorry!”
She looked up at him, ready to give him a brush-off answer but the look in his eyes stopped her. Michael had the most unarming expression written on his handsome features. She didn’t quite know how, but at the same time he managed to look deliberate, determined and desperate. He would manage this challenge even if it killed him - or her feet - in the process.
Sara couldn’t help but smile. She loved this man, even if he had two left feet. She raised her right hand from his shoulder and gently put it next to his face catching that amazingly intense green gaze. Moving closer and leaning into that gorgeous frame of hidden ink and intellect, catching that typical Scofield scent that still made her weak in the knees and had her stomach turn to butterflies she whispered: “Do you know, somebody once said that dancing is the vertical expression of a horizontal feeling!”
His eyes widened.
After a second he drew her even closer to his body and an apparent reaction of the physical kind and whispered back: “How about the invertion of the principle and I’ll show you the horizontal expression of my vertical feeling?”
Sara stretched her body in perfect post-coital satisfaction. Turning onto her side she looked at Michael lying next to her in bed. “You know what Mr Scofield? I think you are the best dancer in the world!”
He looked at her and his luscious lips curved into a slow, sex-hazy smile. “Thanks, but you didn‘t have to say that, I‘ll make it up to you for all the times I stepped on your toes anyway. I promised!”
They never made it to another dance lesson.