Free Cruisin' For A SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood #5 by Sharon Hamilton Page A

as she was. He felt ill at ease—stupid, in fact.
    She sashayed around to the front of him and pulled up his shirt, exposing his abs. The audience went wild with whoops and hollers. Holding the shirt with one hand, she stood close to him—actually a little too close to him—and showed the audience his lower torso. Again, to the beat, with red fingertips holding up his shirt delicately, she undulated her muscles, and he did the same next to her. The crowd of tourists went wild.
    The two of them made their way around the room. Several of the SEAL wives ran up and put bills in his belt. The more he tried to copy her movements, the more he was catching on to her gentle rhythm. The beats from the little trio behind him began to get louder and ran faster.
    At last the song was over. She bowed, still holding his hand. She removed the silver tray from her head and took another bow, keeping Mark alongside her.
    All of a sudden, the trio behind them resumed their ancient beat, as the dancer in white floated away, leaving Mark in the center. He began his retreat back to the corner when another dancer, this one in red, covered with silver coins, her skirt hung low on her belly as she shimmied up to him and danced around him, her dark eyes toying with him, pulling him out to the dance floor.
    She arched her beautiful back and swan-like neck, leaning to look at him over her shoulder, getting closer and closer until she turned away at the last minute. Her heavily made up eyes twisted a pain in his gut. He couldn’t see her lips from under the veil, but his eyes became transfixed on the lovely tanned flesh quivering as she shook her hips from side to side in a figure eight. The small pillows of flesh at the sides of her belly button shook seductively.
    Her slow undulations ended in a swishing from side to side as her hips jiggled the little coins attached to the dangerously low waistband. He found it easy to follow her. As she turned, touching the finger cymbals together, hands above her head; he turned in unison until they had moved a full circle. Instead of using her shoulders or hands as his guide, he followed her stomach muscles, and matched her movement. It could have been his imagination, but he felt a hush fall over the crowd.
    The dance ended and she bowed, retreating behind the curtains in the corner. He had the desire to follow her, which of course was really stupid.
    Back at his seat he got ribbed.
    The little Marrakesh band continued making music with their ancient instruments. Mark and Sanouk were like two clueless travelers on the same path, trying to figure out what they were eating. It was hot, which didn’t seem to be a problem for Sanouk, it was colorful, and it tasted unlike anything he’d had before.
    “You have bars in California where the dancers do this?” Sanouk asked.
    Mark laughed. “There are a few, some Greek and other ethnic restaurants. Not bars, at least not tastefully done like she did. We’ll see if we can find a couple for you.”
    “That would be most awesome, Mister Mark.” After a few seconds, Sanouk asked another question. “Can you please tell me what you think of as tasteful? The woman has so little clothing—”
    Mark could see the beginnings of a blush rising in the young man’s face.
    “We have dancers, but they don’t do this sort of thing, at least not in front of so many people.”
    Mark wrapped his arm around Gunny’s son’s shoulders. His attachment was getting more fatherly every day, even though the two of them could have been brothers. “I know Gunny tried to impart some knowledge before he passed over, Sanouk. One thing I’m sure he never told you—would never tell you in a million years—was that he was a damned good judge of human nature, especially women.”
    Sanouk’s eyes widened as he reared back and away just a little.
    “He loved women. He just wasn’t the stay at home and take care of them kind. He was always off on one adventure or another. In his own way,