Eric claimed me for a slow dance, and though he was clearly distracted by thoughts of what the night might hold – Dracula wise – he made my toenails quiver.
“Some night” he whispered, “there’s going to be nothing else but you and me”.
When the song was over, I had to go back to the table and have a long, cold drink. Lots of ice.
And who can blame her, in fact a bucket of ice over your head might be more appropriate to recover from a slow dance with the viking.