Even the lovely ladies at Wigs & Waffles, the newly opened drag brunch spot, brought us meals to get us through each week. They had never met us, and they still jumped in to help, as if they’d lived in this town their entire lives. That’s the beauty of Hidden Valley: once you’re here,you’re family.
So it comes as no surprise that the studio is at max capacity. We even had to turn our parents away. There was barely room to breathe, let alone dance. They’re set up outside the open barn doors in folding chairs, happily watching Lola take on her first class in the finished studio, no threats of arson hanging over our heads.
And god, my wife isbeautiful.
I’ve never seen a more magnificent sight than Lola Lima in her element, dark-red lips stretched across her cheeks, curls cascading down her shoulders, and skin shimmering in her fire-engine-red outfit.
Music plays loudly overhead from the upgraded speakers Zeke helped me install, and Lola’s hips sway, re-explaining the basic steps ofBachatato the class. She’s gone over it a few times, explaining it in different ways and usingme as her partner for her demonstration, making sure to change how she teaches to fit different learning styles.
It helps that Karmella and Yanet, her close friends and the co-owners ofFuego Fusion, came to cheer her on. They’re assisting her, moving through the room to correct form and offer tips.
I move through the crowd when Lola holds out her hand for me, my pulse speeding with the knowledge I’ll get to have her in my arms any second.
I grasp her small palm in mine, curling my fingers around it and tugging her to me. She twirls into the movement, winding up until she’s nestled against my chest, her sweet scent overwhelming my senses.
“Everyone, grab your partners and hold them close. We’re going to have a little change of pace for the last few minutes of class,” she says with a sly smile aimed at me. “Myhusbandis going to help give you a better idea of how to mesh the steps we’ve been learning.”
God, it still feels so good to hear her call me that.
“Dos Locos”filters through the speakers, a few people whistling when they recognize the upbeat song. Lola presses her chest against mine, bringing her arms up in an arc over her head as she twists her hips, bringing her arms down to wrap around my shoulders.
“This one is fast-paced, with a 4/4-time signature, so if you miss a beat, just count out loud until you and your partner fall back into it, okay?” she asks, and I dig my fingers into her hips, loving the feel of her body against mine and simultaneously willing my dick to remember where we’re at. “Who’s ready?!” she shouts over the music, dancing backward and away from me for a moment, clapping her hands to the rhythm.
She rolls her shoulders, bending her elbows and shimmying toward me, her feet continuing the fast pace the song has set. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, reacting in time to thepulse of the music around us. When she’s back in my arms, I allow myself to let go the same way she’s been teaching me to.
I pull her into me, rolling my hips as she brackets my thigh with hers, our bodies moving as a single unit, playing off the other. Our hands roam, my fingertips trailing over her smooth, bare arms, her waist, over the curve of her ass for just a beat before she spins out of my grasp.
At the part of the song where the singers’ voices clang together in short, abrupt bursts with the words, “Que tontos, que somos tu y yo,” Lola wraps an arm around my neck, turning her side into my chest with one hand on her hip. I keep an arm wrapped around her, the other on her abdomen, pressing into each of the sharp movements she makes, her body punctuating each word the same way the singers seem to.
Her skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, our breaths tangling. My heart races with each movement as we become one. By the time the song is over, I’m completely out of breath, with Lola’s body wrapped around mine, our noses brushing, parted lips barely a breath away, chests heaving. Her eyes bore into mine, heavy lids telling me she wants me to take her mouth just as badly as I d?—
“This is a family-friendly function, folks. I’m not surprised I have to remind my brother of that, but Lola? I’m disappointed in you,” Zeke’s mocking voice chimes over the speakers, effectively breaking the spell. Lola and I pull apart, gasping for breath and overcome with laughter as the whole room whistles.
“Kiss him! Kiss him!” they chant, their shouts growing louder and more determined.
Lola tilts her head at me, her eyes leaving mine only for a second to assess the room before finding mine again. The next thing I know, she’s catapulting herself into my arms, fingers twining in my hair as she tugs my mouth to hers, branding my lips. The roar of the crowd gets drowned out by this single moment in time, the entire worldstopping as Lola Lima, my childhood crush, my best friend, and now, mywife,claims me for everyone to see.
My pulse slows, my tongue slipping between her kiss-swollen lips for a quick taste before I pull away. The cheers hit me all at once in the way sound returns after you’ve been momentarily deafened by a speed train. Our quiet moment in the madness ceases, replaced by something bigger than us, something profoundly beautiful and uplifting, the product of a lifetime of love and devotion to this town, and my heart swells with gratitude.
Lola claps her hands, shaking her head as she laughs at our town’s antics. “Alright, alright. Let’s get back to work,” she says, rolling her eyes playfully.
When everyone is back with their partners, Lola nods at Zeke where he stands in the corner over the small DJ setup he insisted the studio needed. Apparently, he’s decided this is his new calling, but I think he just wanted an excuse to buy new gadgets and mess around with installation.
“Nothing in dance has to be technically perfect,” she says, addressing the room as our bodies carry us through the movements. “The style of dance lays the groundwork, but how you choose to move your body and engage with your partner is up to you. If this song is too fast, slow it down. If you want to add some big flourishes, go ahead and give it a try. Since this is the last song before we close out the class, just give it everything you’ve got and enjoy yourself!”
The crowd cheers, and Zeke presses play, “Stand by Me” by Prince Royce surrounding us.
Everyone takes hold of their partners, twirling them around the smooth dance floors, their movements already so much more put together than they had been during that first class in June.
Lola turns her attention fully on me, gripping my hands and taking a step back, swiveling her hips and lowering herbody before returning to her full height, allowing me to pull her into me.
I slide my palms down her sides, spinning her so her back is flush to my chest. I wind my arms around her front, and she grinds her ass against my groin. I nip at the soft flesh below her ear and whisper, “Are you tryin’ to kill your husband, darlin’?”
She places her hands over mine, chuckling lightly as she smooths my palms over her body before turning to face me, wrapping her arms around my neck. We lock eyes, singing along to the song, enjoying the last moments of tonight with simple movements, embracing each other.
The room starts to grow louder, people joining in, singing to each other and pointing at the nearest neighbor every time we sing the words, “Stand by me.” There’s a light feeling spreading through the room, as if we’re floating, suspended in time. I glance around to find most everyone has broken away from their partners, no longer dancing but pulling each other in for hugs. There’s not a dry eye in the room.
Lola stares up at me with tears pooling in her eyes, and I tug her close, resting my forehead on hers as I blink away my own tears.
