He has been watching me dance tango all night. We have immersed ourselves in our dances together but he enjoys watching me dancing with others. He knows I am his and that no one else in this room can dance me as well as he. He is the one who knows me, has trained me and disciplined me to get to the place we are now. I dress carefully for tango. It is ritual for me. Matching lingerie is essential. I don’t like my lingerie to show or leave unsightly lines. I dress elegantly, not over the top and certainly not flaunting or exposing my assets. I like to hint at my naked beauty not have it all out on public display. I have a natural look so adorn myself with subtle jewellery and makeup; although I do have a fondness for long elegant grecian style earrings. My natural nails are very long adorning me with a hint of danger; depending on my outfit they will be a metallic or dark rich shade; plums, burgundies, any red with a touch of blue. Then there are the tango stilettos. A friend once described my shoes as lingerie for the feet. I always feel like the heroine in a black and white film when we go out dancing, elegant and lush with nostalgia. Tango is a very sensuous dance. I dance for me but I also dance for him, knowing his eyes are on me. As we drive home he pays me compliment “You were beautiful tonight, you are a gorgeous dancer.” I can feel his passion like a pulse in the darkness of the car. I feel the twinges of arousal awaken. I am flush with tango passion but sexual passion ignites very differently.