Paso Doble

On June 3rd, Antonio received word that he would be receiving a new student in his dance studio. The news should not have been anything new. People always fluxed in and out of the place. Most of them were middle-aged women hoping to final achieve the long awaited dream of learning how to dance. Others were teenagers readying for a school dance, and still others were couples who had a bit of spare time on their hands. This new costumer was none of these. The customer was a young man, somewhere in his twenties, who wanted to dance and did not give any explanation.

Antonio looked to his secretary. She looked back at him curiously. Her thick, curly black hair flowered over her shoulders, reaching down to her shoulder blades. She could not dance. But she had a passion in managing and this little place, run by Antonio and another woman named Beatrice, was simply too irresistible to dismiss.

"I wonder what this man wants," Antonio said, looking at the list of customers. Half he taught in the evenings, and the other half Beatrice taught in the mornings. She was there at the time. It was in the middle of the day and she had come to clean out the floors and to tidy up the costumes.

She paused, holding a floral dress, and gazed at Antonio for some time, until he looked over at her. She was a tall, curvy woman who was a remarkable dancer. Her brown hair was pinned up, showing of her beautiful face that hosted two dark brown eyes that resembled glittering stones.

"You shouldn't mock a customer, Antonio," she said at length.

"I'm not mocking him. I'm only making an observation. He obviously has some purpose."

"Maybe," the secretary chimed in, turning to Antonio, "Maybe he has a lover he wishes to please."

Antonio nodded, agreeing that it would be a possibility. He was a handsome man himself, of broad build and not too tall. His hands were thick. He looked more like a farmer than a dancer, but he was notorious for his luxurious, sweeping movements and intense focus in the art. His brown, curly hair often fell in his green eyes, but never when he danced.

"Whatever his purpose, he is still a paying customer, so be happy about that," Beatrice chided and went back to her cleaning.

Antonio collected his keys and went out for the day.

When he returned that evening, he went on teaching a group class full of couples. That night Beatrice joined him. Whenever they did special courses in couples, she usually came by to demonstrate. She wore a light pink dress, clashing fashionably with her tanned skin, and gripped Antonio tightly as they danced by the hands. Her movements were wicked fast and fluid. Her legs flashed out and, at a moment's pause, slowed down a million degrees and swept the ground like a bride dragging her dress behind her.

She was a stiff dancer; hence her rigid grip, but a good one nonetheless.

Two days later, the day between which was an off day for Antonio, the new customer arrived. He had purchased a private lesson. The room was still and quiet. Warm honey-colored evening light spilled into the wooden-floored dance room. It streaked the ground like molten gold. In the lobby the man awaited, looking at the ground rather than at the secretary who was typing away at her keyboard. The lobby and dance room were separate by thin, sliding doors. In the back of the dance room, near a closet where all the costumes were kept, sat a heavy stereo on a table. Drawers filled with CDs were below it, and more CDs and even some record players and cassettes lined the inner walls of the closet. Antonio entered, surprised to find the customer had arrived before him.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. …?" Antonio said, holding out a hand. The stranger looked at it and shook it.

"My name is Lovino Vargas, just call me Lovino," he said. His voice was heavy with an Italian accent. Antonio looked him over once, determining his body type, and then put his keys on the secretary's desk, slipping out of his shoes and into more comfortable ones.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lovino. Please call me Antonio."

Lovino nodded. He was a well dressed—no-he was an extremely well-dressed man. He was not very tall or broad, but at just the right height. His muscles appeared soft beneath the soft fabric of his clean short-sleeved beige shirt. His pants were of cotton and a shade darker than his shirt. His shoes were patent Italian design, smooth and without smudge or blemish. The outfit itself was a very simple design, but the tweaks of the sleeves and the cleanliness of his skin and the style of his dark copper hair made it astonishing.

"Please take your things off here," Antonio said, pointing to a cubby established in the wall. Lovino nodded and went over, taking off his shoes and taking out his wallet, placing them inside the compartment. His wallet was of fine, smooth material. Italian too, by the looks of it.

Antonio concluded that this man was either very rich, or did not mind spending money on things such as clothing and accessories. Lovino slipped off his socks too, entering the area and looking around it. Full length mirrors stood on two of the walls.

"What do you want to learn to dance?" Antonio asked. "Flamenco? Tango?" he continued to list off the customer favorites.

"I want to learn the Paso Doble, for either gender." Lovino said.

Antonio raised his eyebrows. It wasn't an uncommon dance. In fact, it was one of his favorites, but Lovino's addition at the end made him wonder what exactly the man wanted.

"Another thing," Lovino added, "I need to learn it today. I don't care how long it takes or how much it costs, but I need it today."

Antonio went to the stereo and opened the drawer, leafing through the CDs and picking up one with El Conquistador by Maxime Rodriquez. It was his favorite for this song. Perhaps not specifically designed for the purpose, but it still had the strong beats and quick rattles of the guitar that suited the dance. Besides, he could change the song at any time.

"We can do that, so long as you're focused throughout it all. No shirking on your work, you know what they say." Antonio took his water bottle and screwed it open, taking a long drink.

Lovino complied with any conditions he needed to abide by. For the first fifteen minutes he warmed Lovino up with some basic dance exercises and then stretched him out for another fifteen minutes. Once having done that, Antonio explained the song, choosing his music and laying it out on the table.

"The Paso Doble is a quick, fierce dance. It is to represent a bull fighter and his bull. When you are the male you are strong, powerful, and omnipotent. You puff out your chest and approach the problem head-on, attacking it with quick movements and clear, certain directions of your steps. As the female, you are swishing and light on your feet, wrapping around the man and tricking him, drawing him into your trap. At times the roles will switch, but you must keep those mind-sets in mind. The woman is flexible and light, the man is sturdy and set."

Lovino drank all this information in. His eyes had the intent look of someone deeply focused on their task.

First, Antonio played the part of the woman, taking Lovino through the steps. Once he had the basic, shortened version down in a little over an hour, he asked Lovino to perform it alone several times, and then with him. As he did so, he corrected the mistakes and refined all he could with the limited amount of time. Even though Lovino was quick to learn, there simply was not enough time to fully create the desired outcome.

For a half hour, Lovino practiced the male's part until he worked up a sweat. He stomped and huffed until he could hardly breathe. Antonio told him to exit the room and take a quick break. Lovino drank some water from the faucet and looked outside. The evening sun had not completely evaporated yet. The sky was a bruised purple and hung low in the sky with fleecy clouds. Cars roamed by, exiting the rush hour. People passed the studio. A pair of woman chuckled at some joke one had made and laughed until they turned the block. Several young men peered into the studio, possibly hoping to find an attractive woman to look at, and then turned away when there was only the secretary, half-hidden behind the desk, inside.

The air was hot and humid, rolling into the studio when they opened the door to let cool air in. Cool air did not do this, however. The secretary took off her jacket and remained in her tank-top shirt, decorated with an image of a ballerina. She leaned back in her desk, placing a pen on the table and playing with it. Antonio went to her and pulled her hair back, tying it with a string. She thanked him.

For some reason unknown to him, Lovino felt slightly jealous of the completely platonic gesture.

"I know it isn't my place to stick my nose into, but what exactly are you learning to dance for?" Antonio asked, checking his watch. He had plenty of time. All the time he wanted, in fact. Lovino had said so himself.

Lovino looked up at him, brushing some of his hair that had curled with his sweat behind an ear. "It's a gift."

He said no more on the subject.

Antonio asked no more on it, either.

After the interim, they went back inside. Antonio had Lovino work on the male's part again. He made him do it over and over, until he was certain Lovino had it embedded in his memory. Lovino had a knack to dancing too. It wasn't difficult molding the dance out of him. Lovino was an easily carved rock—the image only needed to be freed of its stone boundaries.

Next, Antonio began teaching Lovino the female part. He thought this part was more difficult. However, Lovino seemed to excel at it. He moved much more easily in certain parts of this half of the dance. The emotion didn't seem to fit right with him at times. It was unstable in certain areas, so much so that he broke off and needed to calm his growing nerves.

So, he's the type that throws a fit when he's frustrated, Antonio thought.

When Lovino came to a road block that was not leaped over in two or three tries he cursed loudly and gave up for some time, going away to take a deep breath. This didn't happen with the male's part.

Finally Lovino did understand the movements, the clicking of his feet and the stretching of his arms. He wrapped his arms at the final position around Antonio's leg, bending back and stretching one foot forwards. With his hands on Antonio's muscular legs he felt strange. Why did he feel so for a total stranger? However handsome he was.

Halfway through the moves, someone opened the door and walked in. By this time night had settled. Darkness crept into the sky like a cloak being through over it. The new visitor was a young girl. She chewed gum and had thick books and black pants. She went in and slipped off those boots, looking in and seeing Antonio working with someone.

"Do you mind if I use the other half of the room? Beatrice said you'd be done by now, I'm sorry," she said. Her hair was blonde and choppily cut. It almost looked messy, but it suited her. Her shoulders and arms were decorated with a multitude of tattoos. "I'm not here for a lesson," she added, "I'm just here to practice."

"We aren't using the other half, feel free to. Close the doors if you want." Antonio said. Lovino muttered the he didn't mind.

She went in and began warming up and stretching. She put ear buds in her ears and engrossed herself in her own private stash of music.

Lovino stuck out his hands and Antonio began the dance again, from the start, adding new moves gradually.

While they worked, the girl then began to practice her dance. She was extremely flexible and quick. Her moves were explosive, giving off the distinct feel of hip-hop. The chain at her neck dangled and gleamed in the light. The curtains were drawn shut and now the room was instead filled with the light of fluorescent lights overhead.

Lovino got the rest of the female's part and worked that for two hours. At the end he reviewed both halves. Antonio was thoroughly exhausted. By that time the girl had left, bidding farewell to the men and the secretary.

Lovino worked his way through the female's part. When he reached parts that had been hard on him he found that they had become the easier parts of the routine. He moved aggressively, intimidating the bull and the bullfighter, grinning when parts worked out perfectly.

Antonio watched, impressed. The secretary got up from her desk and cleaned up her area. She dressed back in her jacket.

"I'll leave now," she said. Antonio bade her farewell. "Make sure you close up properly, Antonio!" She added. Then, she vanished into the night. The buzz of the air conditioner roared whenever the music stopped. It was drowned out again when the next song sprung to life.

Antonio felt that Lovino was now ready. His moves were sharp and well. Everything seemed to be locked in. He told Lovino to take a break while he counted up the total. He stood at the desk, going through paper since the secretary had shut off the computer.

Lovino panted and rubbed the sweat off of his neck and brow, drinking water from the faucet again. He pulled on his shoes and put his things away, but kept his wallet in his hand. At the desk, Antonio scribbled off the final amount and handed it to Lovino, finding the machine that took credit cards. He was no good at the accounting part of the job, only the teaching. He loved every minute of it. Instead, Lovino pulled up a check and began to write it out for the rather large sum. He didn't even bat an eye.

"Do you think you'll come again?" Antonio asked, taking his water bottle in his hands. He held it there, squeezing the plastic between his wet palms. He unscrewed the top and drank it to the last drop, crunching it up and throwing it in the trash.

"Maybe," Lovino said and handed the check over. Antonio put it away and thanked Lovino for his business. Lovino said that he should be the one that was grateful and pushed the door open.

Outside the world was choked with night. Several gleaming cars glided past, catching the streetlight's orange glow and reflecting it back in sharp pieces. Several stars glimmered in the distant night sky, surrounded by darkness. There were so many stars up there, too, but light pollution had rendered them invisible. The buildings, all of the exquisite Spanish design, showed up in the darkness with some strange color to them. The air had finally cooled down, but it was still annoyingly humid. Very few people if any passed by. After all, it was one in the morning.

Antonio locked up the building and, double checking everything to see if it was ready for Beatrice in the morning, he left for home. He didn't own a car. He didn't have the need to, anyway. He lived in a small town. His apartment was in walking distance away from the studio where he made enough money to keep his place, to by the necessities of life, and still have a little bit of leisure money. He wondered what Lovino did for a living if he could afford such expensive clothing and but over six hours of lessons without hesitation. He must either work for a big company or be extremely intelligent—or hardworking—which seemed to be the most likely case.

Once at home, Antonio took a long, cool shower, ate a delicious meal one of his neighbors provided him after having made too many plates of it, and fell asleep on the couch watching the news. It was just another day for him, but an unforgettable one at that.

I do not own Hetalia

I wrote this mainly because I wanted to right about Lovino's remarkable taste in fashion and to have an excuse to look up Spanish dances.

I hope you enjoyed

-PWW