D is for…Dancing
At eight sharp, Greg knocked on Sara's apartment door.
"Come in!" Sara called. Greg walked in and checked his appearance in the mirror. He was wearing a plain, short sleeved button up shirt and khaki slacks.
"Lookin' sharp Sanders," Greg heard Sara say. He turned around and saw her dressed in a red cocktail dress, her hair in curls, and her make-up done.
"Damn Sar," Greg said, looking at her up and down. "You look great."
"Thanks…" she did a little twirl. "Ready to go?" Greg nodded and held out and elbow. Sara looped her arm through and the two walked to the car arm in arm.
"This was a good idea Greg," Sara said as they made their way to the bar.
"Yea, this place is pretty cool," Greg smiled, glad Sara was enjoying herself. "Wanna dance?" Sara took a gulp of her drink and raised her eyebrows.
"I don't dance Greggo," she said. Greg shook his head.
"You do now, come on," he took her hand and pulled a protesting Sara to the middle of the crowd of dancers. Once they found a spot, the song that was playing actually changed to one Sara could recognize. "Okay," Greg said. "Now just move along with the rhythm." And at first, Sara felt very awkward, but after a few songs, she and Greg were at a good beat. They danced well together. Sara didn't think that she could even HAVE this much fun…
Especially with Greg…