Maria glanced about the dimly-lit room. Almost every person in attendance was too occupied with themselves to actually appreciate what was going on around them. Careful not to meet anyone’s gaze in particular, she noticed that most patrons were either engaged in light-hearted conversation, eyeing the room for potential dance partners (or if you will, unwilling preys) or simply guzzling their preferred libations. She, however, had come out tonight with the sole purpose of watching.

She had never really felt as compelled to come out and watch people dance as she did before. To be honest, there was a certain amount of sinfulness that pervaded her being whenever she came out to watch people dance the salsa. Not that it really was sinful, just the idea of a simple indulgence that brought her some sort of inexplicable pleasure. It was not so much the beauty of salseros and salseras in attendance, nor was it the generally delightful flavor of people in clubs like this. She almost felt guilty, watching people move about the dance floor, executing steps that don’t seem rehearsed or routine but rather flow quite naturally from wherever it is that it comes from. It didn’t matter that she did not speak nor understand a word of Spanish, though sometimes it may have proven helpful whenever the DJ would say things in between songs. The songs were in Spanish, too. But that only made some songs seem more romantic than they probably were. After coming in for almost six months, she already had her favorite salsa songs. But that wasn’t it either. Perhaps it was how everything came into play, the dimly-lit room, the beautiful Spanish songs, the rhythmic beating of the clave and the graceful and awe-inspiring movement of people, that made watching all the more satisfying.

Though sometimes, it seems difficult to get a moment’s peace since someone would walk up from time to time and ask her to dance. When she wasn’t in the mood, she would turn them down. But most of the time, she would dance a song or two with them. She counted herself as a beginner but by now knew which songs were great to dance along with and which ones she had to avoid. She had also come to know by a person’s movements if he was a good lead or not. It always came down to the element of control. It was, for the most part, the man’s job to do the leading in these dances. A dance was considered good if the man could do a decent job of leading his partner through the series of routines and steps he had in his head, and then some. For sometimes, the ladies would be feisty little things and had a secret or two up their sleeves as well. It was how well the gents managed to work that into their little routines that determined to Maria’s eyes, if they were worthy enough to be watched or not.

Nothing made her heart race faster than finding a suitable couple to watch. She could tell from the easy movement of their limbs and the seemingly uncontrolled liquid movements that never went too far or came too short, the easy flow of steps from one point to another, the look of sheer enjoyment on their faces, and perhaps even the glimmer of happiness that glowed warmly within her as she watched. Only watched, nothing more.

And tonight was no different from other nights. Not realizing that she had been holding her breath, she sighed deeply and settled further into her seat as the night wore on.