Free Moving On by Annette Bower

of her body as she looked around. She even leaned her head back in response to a spin, exposing a wonderful, slender white neck. He quelled an urge to lean forward and kiss the column down to her seductively exposed collarbones. He felt himself react, again. Maybe he was the beast she spoke of.
    Keeping track of his left lower limb became a non-issue while he focused on another part of his anatomy to avoid embarrassing himself in front of his neighbors.
    The music ended. He kept his hand firmly around her waist as he guided her to the makeshift bar. “Beer?”
    “Yes.” She hesitated as if searching for a word. “Draft?”
    He handed her the dew-covered glass which she brought to her lips. He clung to his bottle and tipped it evenly, watching her through half-closed eyes. She was an enigma. Her face had shown shadows of solemnity as well as a joy of life.
    He wanted to know her, but at the same time, not know her. Her pain both called to and repelled him. He didn’t want to complicate his life. Everything was fine the way it was. Besides, maybe he would be leaving soon, which wouldn’t be fair, or maybe he’d be the pegged-leg yokel staying in this town.
    When he looked around, he saw his neighbors. Laurie had a bandana around her bald head. Hank’s right leg created a ridge in the dance dust on the floor. With a gulp, he reminded himself a dance did not mean a lifetime commitment. He led her to the community table of singles. Ruth Anne was crooking her finger at him and smiling broadly.
    “Anna, we have a job to do,” he said.
    She looked at him as if he had two heads.
    “All the single, unattached residents have to dance with the other singles so everyone has a good time,” he whispered in her ear. Then he gestured toward the table. “Everyone, meet Anna. Anna, everyone.”
    Men and women nodded, lifted hands in acknowledgement. “Hi, Anna.”
    “Hello, everyone.” She waved.
    Before she could put her glass on the table, a round, short man reached her side, squeezed her hand, and led her through the polka.
    Out of the blur of fast-stepping tunes, Nick held on to a smiling, blue-haired woman and watched Anna dance.
    After everyone at the table had a spin with either him or Anna, Nick held his hand out to her and led her back to the dance floor. The line was forming as the music began. They positioned themselves behind others and he methodically showed Anna the sequence of steps. He sensed when her body and the music blended together in movement.
    Anna was no stranger to music; she seemed to like moving to the beat, but the dance steps were probably new to her. He’d bet with each repetition, the stomps, kicks and grapevines became less complicated. He noticed she watched the red boots and skirt of the woman in front of her. Anna mimicked the swing of the woman’s hips and suggestive shimmy of her shoulder.
    He grinned when she glanced at him. She smiled back, keeping up with the line.
    During the next set, they held on to each other and swung in unison. Sometimes her eyes sparkled with excitement, other times she bit her lip in concentration. She fit comfortably into him. Her hair shimmered like an aura around her head. Her body seemed to be bathed in a floral scent. Nick thought of nameless dreams, reluctant to see the magic end.
    When they stopped at the bar this time, they each had a glass of ice-cold water. She brushed the back of her sleeve across her mouth. He wished he could trace the vagrant drops with his thumb again. But if he did that here this evening, by morning everyone would know he felt more than neighborly.
    She laughed. “You seem to be my thirst-quenching hero.”
    “Water and hydration are specialties of mine,” he teased.
    He felt the end of his stump throb. “I’m ready to sit out the next set. You?”
    “Sure. I’d like to watch the moves. I seem to have missed this phase of dance.”
    They sat side by side, she watching the steps of the various dances, he smiling at those who