JANUARY 1977, the lost years, Age 27 ELENA

The big heartbreak of 1976 was Sarah, Epic Victim #17.  Gosh, how I missed her.  Sarah would have been perfect had our ages been closer.  Not long after I moved on from Sarah, my next Karmic Test appeared.  Elena, our lovely office secretary, presented a serious dilemma.  I wanted her, but I could not have her.  I had wanted to date Elena ever since I first met her three years ago.  However, since we worked together, I was reluctant to ask her out for fear of what might go wrong. 

Shortly after Thanksgiving in 1974, I visited Casa Mark for the first time.  I found a large comfy chair and did not move for two hours.  During this time I watched as dozens of strangers swirled around me.  It was embarrassing to realize I did not have the slightest clue how to introduce myself or make small talk with a person I did not know.  Well aware my childhood as a loner had crippled me socially, there had to be some way to overcome this limitation.  Hoping to learn how to approach people I did not know and generate a conversation, I secretly chose Elena to help me learn how to make Small Talk.  She was so pretty, I was automatically tongue-tied around her.  In addition, she was a captive audience forced by office protocol to cooperate as long as I remained polite.  The next time I saw Elena, I made a concerted effort to say something nice.  When she smiled, I knew she would be perfect.

At some point I had to figure out how to approach a beautiful woman I did not know.  Since the man is expected to make the first move, now was the time to learn to talk to pretty girls.  Unfortunately, my Small Talk Project progressed at the same snail's pace as my Dance Project.  I was similar to Charlie Brown, the lovable loser who struggles mightily to overcome incurable insecurity. 

1975 was not a good year.  The absolute low point came when I let Katie get away without saying a word about my feelings for her.  The failure to bare my soul cost me the finest woman I ever met.  I had never been the same since.  Katie's memory haunted me like a Charles Dickens ghost. 

In the days following that miserable night at Melody Lane, I wanted desperately to contact Katie and apologize for leaving so abruptly.  This was impossible since I did not know a thing about her.  And why was that?  Because in the six weeks I had known her at dance class, I lacked the skill to talk to pretty girls.  Due to my glaring weakness, not once did I learn her last name, what she did for a living, where she worked, where she lived, where she grew up, and so on.  Since Katie was a complete blank, I had no way to track her down.  Fearful that I would be tongue-tied in a similar way when the next Katie came along, I stepped up my effort to practice speaking to Elena.  I avoided questions about her personal life, preferring to offer compliments on her appearance and perhaps gossip a little.  Three minutes here, five minutes there.  Thanks to a full year of daily practice, I saw improvement.  Even a turtle makes progress eventually. 

By the time 1976 rolled around, my compliments had ventured into good-natured kidding and teasing.  Previously I was so nervous that I had to think up some sort of silly witticism in advance and rehearse it before trying it out on Elena.  However, the day came when I was able to think on my feet and spontaneously offer the occasional unrehearsed quip.  Now we began to spar.  I teased her, she teased me back.  Elena enjoyed the banter.  Our repartee gave free rein to her sassy side, a facet that had remained hidden until now.  To my chagrin, Elena's retorts were invariably superior to my own unimaginative lines.  It occurred to me that Elena had been popular in high school.  No doubt she had learned to hold her own with men's flirtations long ago.  Me?  I was a babe in the woods.

I don't remember the exact words from our battles of yesteryear, but I imagine our banter went something like this:

"Elena, I never worry about the office lights going out in a storm.  Your smile would be my lighthouse in the dark." 

"In a storm, I doubt I would be smiling.  Then what would you do?"

"I would call out to you and follow your voice in the darkness."

"Considering we have plenty of windows, why would you need my help in the first place?"

"Elena, you don't know how to take a compliment."

"You don't know how to give one."

Touché.  This give-and-take stage lasted throughout 1976.  I suppose by this time Elena knew I was up to something.  Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind.  She may have been curious about my motives, but she never confronted me.  Instead Elena seemed to enjoy our good-spirited jockeying.  Elena never made it easy on me.  If I fed her a dumb line, she would shoot it down with glee.  If I fed her a good line, she would smile with approval.  And so our daily repartee turned a game of sorts, a playful way of brightening the day.  I would tease her, she would insult me right back.  Then I would try to recover.  I was impressed at how good Elena was at this.  In fact, since Elena was better than me, she turned out to be an excellent coach.  We never discussed it, but I think Elena guessed my motive and willingly played along.

"Elena, you are such a cool girl.  How have you managed to stay single all these years?"

"Because every guy I meet uses the same dumb lines as you."

"Elena, you are much too beautiful to stay hidden away in this back office.  We need to find a place where people can appreciate you."

"Good idea!  Why don't you get me a transfer?  Then I won't have to listen to your bullshit."

Elena continued to dominate, but I was undeterred.  Looking for ways to get back at her, I concentrated on finding things to tease Elena about.  Anything to provoke her and see what crazy thing she said in response.  My favorite topic was Elena's tendency to swear under her breath whenever she made a typing mistake. 

"Goddamn stupid typewriter!!"

I would walk past and overhear. 

"Oh my, such terrible words."

"Darn it, you weren't supposed to hear that!"  

"I might have to tell our supervisor about your language, but if you give me a big smile, I will look the other way."

Elena would invariably stick out her tongue in defiance and threaten me back. 

"If you tell our supervisor, I will report you for harassment."

That never failed to shut me up.  We would grin and get back to work.  If I didn't know better, Elena enjoyed it when I gave her a hard time.  Hidden away in a room by herself with no windows and little company, no doubt boredom was an issue.  And so the game continued.  Every day I tried a different approach.  Sooner or later, I was going to get this right. 

"Elena, you are so lovely, I feel weak in the knees when we speak."

"Men who need crutches typically don't get very far."

"Elena, you have the most beautiful eyes, but I worry you can see right through me."

"That's for sure.  I can see you are avoiding your job again."

"Elena, did you know 'Elena' is the Greek name for 'Helen'?"

"No, I did not know that.  What made you think of that?"

"Your beauty suggests you are the reincarnation of Helen of Troy."

That brought a smile.  "Okay, that was actually somewhat creative.  You're getting better."

I was getting better, wasn't I?  All I needed was practice.  Truth be told, I was born with a smart mouth.  However, growing up I had no sister or neighborhood girl to talk to.  And of course I was too terrified to talk to the girls in high school.  Consequently my skill at repartee had remained dormant till now.  However, thanks to Elena, I was starting to catch up.  After nearly three years of playing our game, I could exchange wisecracks with my sharp-witted friend and hold my own. 

It never dawned on me there might be a price to pay.  Given her good looks, I cannot imagine how Elena had remained unattached for three years.  This was good in one way.  I would have never flirted with her if she was married or had a steady boyfriend.  However, the flirting had forged a bond we both felt, but refused to acknowledge.  Elena knew my approaches were said in good fun, but lately there was something in her eyes that left me wondering.  Was the curious change in her expression an invitation?  If so, did I dare cross the line?  I very much wanted to cross the line, but I was also well aware of the ancient taboo... 'Do not under any circumstance date someone at work!!' 

When I first met Elena, she was 19.  Now she was 22.  Elena was no longer a teenager.  She was a woman.  And what a woman she was.  Elena was Forbidden Fruit, but the sweetest of fruit.  Nor was she out of reach.  Her proximity allowed me to fan the flames even though I knew I was playing with fire.  The temptation was so overwhelming that every day I was forced to remind myself Elena was off limits.  My better judgment reminded me I dare not touch her or I would be sorry.  And so the debate started.

Because we were friends, I could say anything around her and feel at ease.  It was obvious that Elena would be a wonderful girlfriend.  Unfortunately, however, on paper we were not a good match.  For starters, I was five years older.  We came from distinctly different cultures.  I was a college graduate to her high school education and I enjoyed higher rank at the office.  But what about our growing rapport?  It might work... but only for a while.  Given my mediocre track record with women, I feared the Aftermath.  

Good judgment is the province of well-fed men, but I was hungry, very hungry.  My hunger weakened my judgment.  During the Lost Years I could count the number of girlfriends who lasted a month with two fingers, Celeste (ugh) and Sarah (tragic).  Three years!  When was this going to end?  I longed for the companionship of a girlfriend in the worst way.  I was dying to find someone and here was this sweet girl who genuinely liked me.  However, I couldn't get past the 'Fair Game'  warning from my time with Sarah.  I could not visualize Elena as a girlfriend with staying power.  We did not have a lot in common other than our growing lust.  It would be great while it lasted, but how long would it last?  What would happen when it was over?  What would happen if I broke her heart or she broke mine?  Awkward?  Yes!  Incredibly awkward.  Elena worked 20 feet away.  If things went south, I would have to face her every day.  Over the past three years, 98% of my relationships lasted two weeks or less.  Elena deserved someone with better skill at love than me.

Nevertheless, loneliness has a way of clouding one's judgment.  The temptation was so strong that I reevaluated my hand's off decision daily.  Why not give it a try and find out?  I felt safe around Elena.  We made each other laugh.  Surely there was a way, there had to be.  Although I went back and forth on my dilemma, I never quite figured out a way to convince myself an office romance would work. 

However, one day something happened to change the dynamics.  Once Elena turned the tables on me, I was a goner.

JANUARY 1977, the lost years, Age 27 the cat is out of the bag

It was January 1977.  I had spent the Christmas Holidays alone.  Who knows, maybe my resistance to Elena's charms were lower than usual.  All I know is that one morning my guard was down.  As I walked past her office, Elena had her radio on as she typed.  I recognized the song that was playing, "You should be Dancing", a Bee Gees hit.  Without thinking, I impulsively danced Side-Touch, Side-Touch a couple times in the doorway.

Elena glanced up with a big grin.  "What are you doing?"

"That's my favorite dance step."

"I didn't know you knew how to dance."

"Of course I do.  I take dance classes two nights a week."

Elena perked up immediately.  "No kidding?  You take dance classes?  A big clod like you?  I don't believe it.  All right, get your ass in here and show me a move.  If you can talk it, you should be able to walk it.  Otherwise I will never let you live this down." 

Accepting her challenge without any thought to consequence, I proceeded to dance a complicated jazz pattern Patsy had shown me. 

Elena squealed with delight.  "Oh my God, you're serious!  Rick, where did you learn to dance?  I am shocked.  Show me another move."

I did a windup, then delivered a precision pirouette.  Elena was incredulous.  She grinned and shook her head in disbelief.

"Look at you!  All this time and I never knew.  I cannot believe you never told me this before!  You know what?  You are a typical guy.  Every day you come in here, you talk constantly but you say nothing of importance."

That kind of hurt.  "What do you mean?" I asked.

"You talk all the time, but you never tell me anything that matters.  I swear, the more a guy talks, the less he says and you are the perfect example.  I cannot believe you have been hiding this from me."

Although I was somewhat baffled by what Elena had just said, I was flattered by her interest.  Just then, Elena got up from behind her desk and took a quick look around the corner.  Confirming that our supervisor was still in the restroom, she looked at me and said, "I liked that move!  What did you call it, jazz?  C'mon, Rick, show me what you're doing!  But make it quick; I don't want to get caught." 

With that, I demonstrated while Elena copied.  It didn't take long.  Elena picked up the pattern from me a lot more quickly than I learned it from Patsy.  Story of my life.  Just then our supervisor returned, so we broke it off with a guilty smile.  Now that the cat was out of the bag, this incident led to more dancing.   After forcing me to reveal what nights my lessons were on, Elena would make sure to corner me the next morning. 

"Rick, hurry up and teach me what you learned last night before Verna shows up!"

On days when our supervisor attended meetings at the home office, we might spend up to 15-20 minutes goofing around.  Although Elena had accused me of hiding my interest in dance from her, she was guilty of the same thing.  I had no idea that dancing was such a passion for this young lady.  Elena would get up and dance right beside me.  Her odd habit of brushing up against me was infuriating because it left me unsettled.  I spent a lot of time wondering what was going through her mind.  Was this a signal?  I was captivated by the way she moved, but concerned as well.  This could be trouble.  Letting the cat out of the bag is a lot easier than getting it back in.  However, despite my trepidation, I wasn't willing to stop.  Because Elena was unfailingly complimentary, our dance practice became the highlight of my day.  Every now and then another caseworker would pass by and grin at our foolishness.  We didn't care.  Elena and I were having fun. 

One day Elena admitted dancing was her favorite activity in the world.  I believed her.  I believed her even more after the day Elena put on a show.  There were five caseworkers in the office in addition to me.  Since our job required visiting homes around the city, occasionally the office was deserted while Elena held down the fort.  One morning our supervisor was out till noon and there was no one but Elena when I arrived at the office.  The moment Elena saw me, she cranked up the volume on her radio.  You know how one thing leads to another.  On impulse, I told Elena to show me her best move. 

Elena smiled.  "What took you so long to ask?"  She got up from her desk and began to move.  Uh oh.

Watching Elena's face light up when she danced made me smile.  Her joy helped me understand just how much women love to dance.  But now I was curious about something.  As long as I had known Elena, she had never removed her oversized sweater. 

"Elena, why don't you take off your sweater when you dance?"

"It's cold in here.  Besides, if I took off my sweater, then I would have to charge when I dance."

Don't ask me how, but that wisecrack made it past all my defenses.  I suddenly had to know what Elena was hiding in there.  From this point on, I could not help myself.  Whenever Elena danced, I studied the movement of her breasts under that giant sweater and fantasized.  What a babe!  Noticing my appreciative stare, Elena challenged me.

"What are you looking at?  Knock it off.  You can't afford me."

What on earth did she mean by that?  My imagination went wild.  Did this sweet, innocent girl work in a nightclub or something?  Or was she just pulling my leg?  Whatever the answer, Elena was too sly to answer my question. 

"You're probably right, you are definitely out of my league.  Seriously, Elena, you are a very good dancer.  I am really impressed.  Out of curiosity, where did you learn to dance like that?"

Elena beamed at my compliment.  Elena was ordinarily reluctant to talk about herself, but this time she opened up.

"I am a party girl by nature.  Dancing is in my blood.  That's how I meet guys.  Back in high school, when I got home from school, I would turn on the TV and copy moves from dancing shows like Soul Train and American Bandstand.  I would dance right along with the kids on the show.  Throughout high school, I danced in the hallways with my girlfriends any chance I could get.  School dances were special.  Usually I danced with the boys, but there were plenty of times when just me and my girlfriends danced together.  Wherever there is music, I cannot sit down." 

Elena's story bothered me.  Good grief, I barely knew a thing about this woman and it was my own fault because I had never learned to ask questions.  How was it possible to know Elena for nearly three years and just now find out how important dancing was to her?  This discovery underlined the importance of my Small Talk Project.  I had just realized there is more to conversation than bullshit lines, teasing, bickering and silly compliments.  At some point, I needed to learn how to ask questions too.  How else was I ever going to get to know someone?  I shook my head in mild disgust.  Why does it always take me so long to figure these things out on my own?  This painful revelation took me right back to Katie.  If I could talk to other women like I talked to Elena, I could avoid another tragedy.  Even better, I might discover things about women that would help me develop a friendship.  Although I was embarrassed at my Interviewing ineptness, at least I had discovered a new area where I needed to improve.

I had always been a lone wolf.  Self-centered and wrapped up in my problems, I had yet to develop the skill of making casual friends.  You know how kids get on the phone at night and chat?  Not me.  I never called anyone, no one called me.  It was always so much easier to stick to myself and live in a world of my own.  Well, it was high time for a change of heart.  I decided to start asking questions and listen carefully to the answers, maybe even add a comment or follow-up question.   Most people take this skill for granted, but I was desperate to overcome my arrested social development.  With a frown, I realized Dr. Fujimoto was right about one thing... I wasn't much of a listener.  I was obviously not much of an interviewer either.  No wonder he threw me out of graduate school.  I deserved it.  With a heavy sigh, I acknowledged if I had done something as simple as ask Katie what she did for a living and learned a few other things about her, we might still be together.  Full of chagrin, I vowed to add the art of the pertinent question to my conversational skills.  It would not bring Katie back, but it would definitely help me down the road.

The office dancing that started in January continued into February.  I had been interested in Elena for three years, but Office Taboo prevented me from action.  At this point, I think Elena had guessed I had it bad for her.  I think she was interested too.  However, Elena was not the type to violate protocol and make the first move.  Although I was not her boss, I outranked her.  I was a caseworker, she was my secretary.  As symbol of our different status, her office door stayed open while I kept my door closed.  That gave me the upper hand.  Since I was the one who always came into Elena's office, so far the flirting had always been on my terms.  For that reason, I assumed my higher status guaranteed me a form of safety.  Whenever my growing lust got too much, I would run to my office and hide till the ardor passed.  However, the sanctuary provided by my office came to a swift and sudden end on Thursday, March 3.

This was not something that was ever discussed, but I suppose Elena decided to take matters into her own hands.  Now that our dancing had more or less leveled the playing field, Elena was no longer the innocent young secretary.  Tiring of waiting, she decided to turn the tables.  Without warning Elena transformed from hunted to hunter, from prey to predator.  All she needed was the right opportunity.  Elena did not have to wait long.  This was one of those mornings when circumstances found us alone together.  The other caseworkers were away on home visits, but surely our supervisor would be in soon.  However, the moment Verna phoned to say she would be in a meeting till lunchtime, Elena seized the opportunity.  She got up from her desk, knocked once, then boldly flung my door open. 

When I saw her standing there, I stopped breathing.  Elena had removed her sweater.  Oh my God...  Standing before me was a truly voluptuous woman, large breasts and waist so thin as to approach the freakish dimensions reserved for Barbie dolls.  That was a dirty trick to remove her sweater.  What a body!  Caught completely off guard and instantly aroused, I gawked in admiration of her bold move. 

Seeing my rapt expression, Elena sensed weakness.  With a wicked smile, she announced, "Okay, mister, it's time!"  

Unsure what was going on, I stuttered, "Uh, time for what?"

Elena wiggled her finger and ordered me to get up.  "Guess what, Ricky Ricardo?  There's no one here.  Get out here and show me your latest move!"

Dumbfounded by Elena's power play, I meekly followed to her office and showed her Rosalyn's latest line dance pattern.  Elena was not impressed.  Laughing in a mocking way, she exclaimed, "Hey, vato, I already know these moves.  I think today it's my turn to show you a few moves!"

Elena put on some music and did some sort of fancy hip roll.  Then she dared me to try it.  I botched it terribly and Elena laughed. 

"Come on, Rick, you can do better than that!"

I hated being teased about my dancing.  Not only that, I did not enjoy getting this comeuppance.  Whatever happened to that meek, cooperative secretary who always stayed in her place?  Feeling threatened, I snapped back in a sharp voice.

"Okay, dancing queen, show me again how you do it!"

Big mistake.  I should not have dared her.  Catching the bite in my voice, Elena smiled.  I had given her exactly the excuse she had been waiting for.  As they say, be careful what you ask for.  Turning the radio up a notch, Elena used the occasion to advertise her considerable charms.  Seeing Elena's generous curves in action was far superior to having them hide under that sweater.  Dead man's curves to be sure.  It was breathtaking to see Elena in action.   Oh gosh, this girl can really move!  I instantly felt my temperature rise among other things.  Without thinking, I let out a huge sigh of appreciation.  Elena knew what that meant.  She gave me an evil grin, then got right to the point.

"Hey, do you like what you see?  I have other moves to show you, but not here in the office.  It is time for you to take me dancing.  Enough of this fooling around."

I paled considerably.  What has gotten into her?  Elena had just thrown down the gauntlet.  Time to put up or shut up.  When I gulped, Elena raised an eyebrow.

"What are you afraid of, Ricardo?  Are you afraid you will look bad dancing next to me?  Maybe you can't handle letting a girl show you up.  Why let you get all the attention?"

I panicked at the thought of taking Elena out dancing.  Phobia screamed at me, "Don't do it!  You cannot let this happen!!"

Just then the main door to our office opened as one of the caseworkers returned.  Saved by the bell!  Embarrassed, Elena raced back to her desk and quickly donned her old maid sweater.  Meanwhile I beat a hasty retreat to my office. 

Closing my door, I collapsed in defeat.  Still trembling with unreleased desire, I suppose I deserved this.  Elena's pursuit was a trap of my own doing.   Having opened Pandora's Box, I had to deal with Pandora.  The Mistress Book had said that dancing was a surefire way to attract a woman.  Elena's sudden interest in me was clear proof that Jim Deane was right.  In Elena's mind, I would make a great dance partner.  But would we stop there?  Based on the current arc of our office flirtation, a sultry night of dancing could very well place this exquisite beauty in my arms.  Filled with apprehension, maybe this is what I really wanted.  Of course it was.  But did I dare break Office Taboo?  The vision of Elena without that sweater left me panting.  The vision of watching her move her hips made it worse.  Elena was a master at seduction.  She was good, very good.  But her invitation felt ominous.  I shuddered as Lust and Caution wrestled for global supremacy. 

I thought I had gotten a reprieve, but I was wrong.  Later that afternoon, Elena walked into my office again.  One knock, but this time she did not bother to wait for a reply.  Apparently the unit's office was deserted again.  How could I tell?  Her sweater was off.  No fair!

"So, hotshot, when are you going to take me dancing?"

I was totally flummoxed.  There is no escaping this, is there?  This was just as bad as Rachel's infamous phone call.  That is when I got the weirdest feeling that Fate was standing next to Elena.  They were both waiting for my answer.  If so, what was I going to do?  Sorry to say, as usual I tried to avoid my Fate.  Full of panic, I tried to brush her off.

"Uh, gosh, Elena, dancing sounds like a great idea.  We need to try it sometime, but right now I have a huge problem I am working on.  Can we talk about this later?" 

Elena refused to leave.  Instead she folded her arms and frowned at me with disapproval. 

"Look, I am tired of this runaround.  I want you to take me dancing!"

Elena was on the warpath.  I had dodged her earlier, but I had a sneaky suspicion that Elena was a mind reader.  She must have known I had been spending my time alone.  Now that Elena had turned the tables on me, there was no putting this well-curved Genie back in the bottle.  I was shocked at how utterly unprepared I was for this development.  I had no comebacks, no clever retorts, no wiggle room.  Lacking a legitimate excuse to turn her down, I felt myself wither under Elena's full court press.  I never should have started dancing with that girl.  Well, too late now.  There is only so much a man can take.  Overcome by the agonizing torture of pent-up desire, the dam broke.  Finding myself utterly helpless to stop my lips from moving, I muttered, "Okay, Elena, you win.  What are you doing tonight?"

Seeing the huge smile cross Elena's face, Phobia screamed, "Take it back, take it back!"

But it was too late.  Elena accepted before I could change my mind.

"Okay, at last!  Muy buena, Ricardo!  I thought you would never ask."

Elena grabbed a pen and scribbled her phone number and address on a piece of paper.  "What about 8:30?"

I nodded.  At that, Elena blew me a kiss and gently closed the door behind her.  My Fate was sealed.  Feeling completely out of control, her confrontation sent a chill down my spine.  What did I just do??  This was a terrible idea, but it was inevitable.  No man can resist the siren call of a woman with Elena's power.  Standing in the doorway like some sort of Wonder Woman, Elena had shattered all remaining barriers.  Nothing could save me now.  I saw this woman every day.  If I backed down, I would never hear the end of it.  Convinced there was no face-saving way to back out, I trembled at the thought of going dancing with the Forbidden Woman.  Well aware of my all-consuming desire, I felt helpless to resist her.  'Look, but don't touch' might work in the harsh neon light of our office.  But what about the darkness and intimacy of a Disco club?  Once Elena began moving to the pulsing Disco beat, I wasn't sure how I would ever be able to keep my hands where they belonged.  I was a man at war with himself.  No matter how many times I told myself Elena was off limits, the volcanic fantasies in my mind would not stop.  Will we or won't we?  I was at a complete loss to guess how the night would turn out.

I did not recognize Elena when she appeared at the door.  With a nervous gulp, I had to look twice to make sure this was the same girl.   At the office, Elena was a modest, demure young lady who disguised her amazing figure with an oversized sweater.  Tonight Elena had gone Vampire.  I was staring at the hottest woman in creation.  Hair brushed up, plenty of makeup, red lipstick, dressed to kill in a low-cut dress.  I knew what this meant.  Trouble.

We went to a Disco called the Rubaiyat.  This was the first time I had been dancing in a nightclub since Celeste two years ago.  Considering I currently took dance classes two nights a week, it was hard to believe two years had elapsed since my last visit.  I avoided nightclubs because the Rejection Phobia had never quite gone away.  I was still afraid to approach a women who was a stranger and ask her to dance.  Nor would I know what to say after the dance was over.  I was no better than the elephant permanently conditioned to stay tied to the stake.  For the past two years it had been easier just to avoid my fears by staying out of nightclubs.

The irony was killing me.  Using Elena to help me overcome my shyness and weakness at small talk had seemed like a good idea, but I was not so sure about that anymore.  I had no one to blame for tonight's predicament but myself.  I suppose that's the chance we take when we play with fire.

Elena turned on the charm the moment we hit the floor.  When Elena had described herself as a Party Girl, she was not kidding.  The Rubaiyat dance floor turned out to be more her stronghold than mine.  Elena was a phenomenal dancer.  Although Elena was better than me, I had no problem with that.  It was a privilege to watch her in action. 

Fortunately, I was no slouch.  Elena was all smiles as we danced.  She seemed impressed and that was exactly the boost I needed.  I was pleased to discover my year of jazz training with Patsy Swayze had significantly improved my Freestyle dancing.  I had been a good Freestyle dancer at the Farmhouse a lifetime ago, but now I was better.  Elena loved it when I gave her a run for her money.  I did my best to copy her moves and match her stride for stride.  We had a great time trying to outdo the other on the dance floor.  Even though I lost the contest, the thrill of watching my lovely Latina up her game was perfect consolation.  We were easily the best dance couple. 

Elena had a real passion for dance.  Two margaritas into the night, Elena began moving her body in ways that suggested the private screening had begun.  Elena caught me staring in rapt appreciation.  When she smiled in acknowledgement, I blushed.  This girl knew how to put on a show. 

Realizing Elena did not mind at all, I gazed with admiration.  Elena was definitely the most beautiful woman in the club.  Unable to take my eyes off her, I wondered what she would look like in bed.  Unless I was badly mistaken, that was where this night was headed.  Unlike Yolanda, my nightmare from three years ago, Elena did not strike me as a tease.  Quite the contrary.  Her sly smile signaled green light, permission granted. 

Mesmerized by her sensual motion, I was caught in the grip of a hypnotic spell.  With Elena gyrating like a gypsy dervish, throes of desire left me in a state of bittersweet agony.  Anticipating the pleasure that awaited, I trembled at the thought of enveloping this beautiful woman in my arms. 

Clearly there was nothing to stop us.  Except maybe my conscience.  I still wasn't sure this was the way to go.  I took a deep breath and tried to clear my lust-crazed mind.  I wanted to make love to Elena in the worst way.  Over the past three years I had looked for any excuse to cross this line.  The prevailing sentiment in the Seventies was consenting adults could do whatever they wanted.  Nor was I preying on some innocent college kid like Sarah.  Elena's expertise at seduction suggested considerable prior experience.  We were single with no one to answer to.  Not just that, this was her idea.  Until the moment she stood in my doorway, I had no idea Elena had been entertaining the same thoughts as me.  But there was no mistaking it, Elena was chasing me!  With signals obvious enough for a blind man to see, why hesitate?  But I could not get rid of that nagging feeling.  Sensing I was on the fence, Jim Deane decided to speak up. 

"Rick, he who hesitates is a damn fool!  Sure, a roll in the hay with Elena carries risk, but sometimes you have to throw the dice.  Do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering?  Go ahead, make your move.  The woman has made it clear this is what she wants.  You were stupid to let Sarah off the hook, so for once in your life, don't hold back."  

I found myself nodding in agreement.  Jim Deane was right.  I would be out of my mind to turn down a woman like this.  We had reached fever pitch after a provocative night of dance.  Considering our pent-up fervor, it was now or never.  My mind was made up.  Let's do this.  "Elena, it's getting late, let's vámonos." 

Elena agreed.  Purring like a cat, she offered me her arm.  This was unbelievable.  I had been lusting for this girl for three years!  Restless to put a welcome end to my many years of waiting, I had not felt desire as strong as this since Rachel.  Only one problem.  The drive to Elena's apartment gave me too much time to think.  The memory of Sarah's tears pushed macho man Jim Deane aside.  So help me God, I could not get the vision of Sarah's gut-wrenching sobs out of my mind.  It was like Sarah was in the back seat warning that Elena would face a similar fate if I went through with this.  Then to my alarm, Gaye joined the conversation.  She wasted no time. 

"Rick, do you love Elena?"

"No, but I like her a lot." 

"What will you do when the two of you break up somewhere down the road and you have to see her at work the next morning?"

"Do me a favor, Gaye.  Will you please shut up?"

But it was hopeless.  Gaye was right.  Of course she was right.  There would be no tears from Elena tonight, no regrets, but what about one month from now?  Or two months?  Elena's heart was in this more than mine.  Admitting the young lady had a serious crush on me, I shook my head in consternation.  Here was my problem... Elena had been nothing but kind to me for the past three years.  In a sense, I liked Elena so much that I felt protective towards her.  Elena came from same tree of Forbidden Fruit as Sarah.  If I was in love with Elena, that would have changed things.  But this was Lust.  Big difference.  To make love to Elena would surely violate the Fair Game rule Gaye had drilled into me.  In fact, Gaye's words were ringing in my ears. 

"Rick, you are an idiot!  Don't you dare mix business with pleasure!  You will be sorry and you will regret this.  When things go sour at work, I predict you will need two more years of therapy just to get rid of the guilt.  Do you really want to listen to me chew you out for two more years for being so stupid?"

Two more years of Gaye's criticism?  God forbid.  With my conscience and libido locked in a sumo wrestling match to the death, Jim Deane screamed at me.

"What in the world is wrong with you?  For crying out loud, Elena is the one who barged through your office door!  You would be insane to pass up a fox like her.  Elena is old enough to know what she is getting into.  She knows the score, so tell your therapist to go to hell and give this girl what she wants!" 

Jim Deane was right about permission.  No question about it.  However, my conscience countered that our worlds were too far apart to expect our fling would go very far.  Yes, we would enjoy a wild night of passion.  But when it came time to hit the Exit Door, how exactly was I going to forget Elena when we saw each other every day?  Did I want to risk hurting my friend?  I had spent my entire childhood watching my mother cry over one man after another.  Did I really want to see a similar pain on Elena's face every day of the week?  In the end, it was the memory of my mother's despair at getting dumped all the time that made the difference.  And of course Gaye's lecture on office politics made sense.  Although it was true Elena was old enough to know what she was doing, the threat of a romance heading south was just too great to take a chance. 

When we reached her apartment, I walked Elena to the door in silence.  When Elena turned to look at me with those big brown eyes, she already knew.  Girls sense things.  It broke my heart to see her questioning look.   Would a length explanation make anything better?  Probably not.  Keep it simple and get it over with.  Scared to death of her power over me, I stopped five feet away to avoid the danger of physical contact.  One hug and she would own me.  

"Elena, you are an awesome dancer!  Thank you for the best night of dancing of my life!"  Then I paused.  "I would love for this night to continue, but I just can't get over the fact that we work together."

Elena said nothing.   She just stared at me with a hurt expression.  I knew she was upset, but what could I do?  Fearful of her ability to persuade me otherwise, I turned and raced to my car.  I was bitterly disappointed as I drove away from Elena's apartment.