A weekend getaway seemed to be the perfect solution to their problems. Cathy and Andrew had been going through a tough time and if something wasn’t done, the young couple could easily have ended up on the divorce statistics. Scarborough was an easy decision, too. The local seaside resort was easy to get to and filled with good hotels and the sweet sea air that they enjoyed on their honeymoon. It would be the perfect getaway. They were sure that a few days away from the pressures of work would do them a world of good.

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“What on Earth happened here?” Mark asked as he walked into the living room and saw the floor strewn with autumnal leaves.

“Yes, sorry.” Helen shook her head. She was on her knees in the middle of the living room, orange and red leaves sprouting from her fisted hands. “I picked them all up at the park for school tomorrow, but the black bag burst and well, you can see what happened.”

“Need a hand?”

“Oh, yes please, love.” Helen grinned as her husband hung up his coat.

“What are you going to do with all these at school, then?” Mark asked as he grabbed a handful of crinkly leaves.

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I don’t like to dance. I can’t dance, in fact. Forget the cliche two left feet, when I get going I have at least six or seven of them. I do appreciate good music, though, and so the sensual sound of salsa is soothing my shopping experience.

I like this town. There is so often something going on. Today, there is a group of people dancing. Professionals, dancing with each other. The men are in black from head to toe, their shirts open to reveal golden cinnamon skin below. The ladies costumes are bright and swirling, fringes and layering around the short skirts add movement as they sway and shake their hips. Red, yellow, white and blue dresses swirl to the sexy salsa beat.

I sit on the wall outside the hardware shop and listen. I can only catch glimpses of the dancing as the crowd shifts and people move on, but I can feel the beat of the music slipping and sliding all through my body. I slowly swig from a bottle of water and am aware of the stretch of my neck and the way I swallow. I think of sex, of being on my knees; a cock between my lips, spurting thick cream down the back of my elongated, begging throat.

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