All copywrite of the words from "Fields of Gold" by Sting acknowledged.

T A N G O   L E S S O N S

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The door lacked paint, the buzzers were worn, and the occupants names indecipherable. It had to be the ground floor. She pressed the lowest button and held her breath. There was the faintest of clicks and the door gave to her tentative pressure. Inside the dimly lit hallway she stood for a few seconds before edging forward to the slightly open door at the end of the corridor.

This was it.

But there was nobody there.

A long mirror lined the wall, the wooden handrail, the bright lights, and a small black sound system on the floor told the story of a dance studio, but the characters were missing.

She wondered if it had been a good idea, there didn’t seem to be any other participants.

The teacher was probably going to be about 105 clammy handed with halitosis.

She turned to leave.

-----

Without warning, a voice issued from an unseen alcove.

"You have come for the Tango Lessons?"

She stopped, her heart missed a beat, as a tall aristocratic looking man in his late thirties stepped into the light. Wide-eyed she stared. No words came from her mouth.

"You have come for the Tango Lessons?" he repeated.

He had a faint oriental look about the hooded eyes that seem to bore into hers.

Still the words wouldn’t come, but she managed to make her mouth move in what she hoped was a smile.

He bent his head towards hers.

"Tango Lessons?"

She nodded, unable to take her eyes off his face.

He gave a knowing smile. "I see. You must be ….. Claire."

"Yes." she whispered.

-----

"So you have come to learn the Tango Argentino?" he lingered on the last syllable.

Claire nodded.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Sei." He tilted his head in a brief bow.

"May I take your coat?"

He took her by an outstretched hand, running his eyes up and down her clothes.

"I see you have come prepared."

She hadn’t. The tight jeans and a sweater had seemed a good idea at the time, but then she hadn’t quite known the form.

Flushed with embarrassment at such close scrutiny, she shook her head.

"No. I didn’t know what was appropriate."

"Have you had any dance training before?" He said gently, but already knowing the answer.

"And why do you wish to learn the Tango in particular? It is a very complex dance."

Claire found herself explaining about the Wedding on Christmas Eve and her conviction that the Tango was going to play an important part in the festivities.

-----

It was Sei’s turn to look surprised. "Two weeks … you need to learn in two weeks?"

"Will that be enough time" she queried anxiously. "I checked all the night classes and they were not enrolling again until after the holidays. " She stopped.

"I just have to learn … just the basic steps," her voice quivered "Please?"

"But of course. Provided you can come daily." Again he took her by the hand, this time sweeping her around his body, watching her movements.

"You will dance the Tango." He said with conviction.

-----

 Tango Studio

Claire watched him kneel before the tape machine. It was her turn to appraise.

Long legs in sleek black trousers, a full white shirt open at the collar and black braces with silver clips. Yes, she liked what she saw, in fact she was so busy gazing she didn’t realise he had spoken as he still had his back to her.

"Enrique Santos Discepolo. Have you heard of him?" Sei slipped a tape into the machine and waited. "The tango argentino is a sad thought which can be danced."

"Pardon" Claire heard the name but not the question.

"This is Discepolo’s *Uno* just listen." They stood together as a slow haunting tune oozed from the sound system. Claire had imagined that the tango had a faster beat and was livelier.

Sei sensed her disappointment. It was his test for first pupils and it inevitably brought the same reaction as Claire’s.

"Within two weeks this melody that sounds dour now, will seem the most erotic music you have ever heard"

Sei paused, turning to look at her. "That is the secret of the Tango."

-----

"We will start at Lesson One. The Tango position." Sei stood opposite Claire and placed hands either side of her waist.

"Relaaax" he intoned "Let your body relax."

"Now let your knees bend slightly" he exerted a slight downward pressure on her hips.

She let him adjust her body to the correct position. Her legs were so far relaxed that they were endanger of complete collapse. But she held on to his lower arms for support, grasping the cotton shirt between her fingers, and then lifting her eyes to meet his.

He looked her full in the eyes "This Claire, is Tango Level."

-----

The bandoneon wailed its melancholy tune.

Claire was engulfed within the depth of those amber eyes. She held his stare for no more than a few seconds, but it could have been an eternity.

-----

Tango Studio

"Are you happy with the Tango Level, Claire?" Sei lifted her to the standing position.

"Now for the correct hand position. Your hand like this." He placed her left hand on to the top of his shoulder and then slightly down his back.

"And the right hand … " He crossed his palm over hers, and drew it up higher to the side.

"We follow," he moved their clasped hands " … where these lead."

Claire could feel the movement of his muscles and shoulder blade as he completed the hand sequence by placing his right hand in the small of her back, and drawing her closer to him.

Yes, thought Claire … I’m  sure I will remember this position. Discepolo’s *Uno* lamented in the background, speaking of frustrated love.

"Now take a step backwards" Sei relaxed his grip on her waist, allowing her freedom.

"And relax to Tango Level."

-----

"The music, you must feel the beat here" Sei placed his hand over his heart.

"It must enter your body, become part of your consciousness."

"Listen 1-2-3-4 " he tapped out the rhythm on his body "5-6-7-8".

He stood back and in a fluid movement, danced the steps with an imaginary partner.

"Now Claire, come to me … and I will show you the Tango Argentino."

To the lonely beat they practised the delicate steps. 1-2-3-4

Sei always guiding; gently pressing; supporting. 5-6-7-8

Until the pupil drew confidence from the master.

He stood close behind her. They faced the mirror together.

This time they moved as shadows.

Then they moved as one.

-----

Tango Studio

"Only another week to go Claire … I think you will be ready." Sei knelt at the tape machine.

"Time for a change of music." Claire, hand on his shoulder, agreed.

Tango lessons had proved a revelation and extremely enjoyable with such a considerate teacher. Claire was at her ease … and if circumstances had been different ….

"This is the music from the ‘Tango at the End of Winter’. It is more upbeat and seductive than Discepolo’s *Uno*. I feel you are ready for the more complex movements." They rose from their knees as the music filled the room.

Eye to eye contact. 1-2-3-4

Palms pressed together. 5-6-7-8

The music drew them parallel …. Then flung them apart.

"Right Claire, very good. Small steps round my foot and …. Turn."

"Once more, that’s better …" he cajoled, coaxed and drew her on with the care of a lover.

Their eyes locked, hands traced a circle in the air, a prelude to the end.

"And stand still …Now …. And fall towards me. Into me". Sei commanded.

He clasped her unbelievably tightly, or so it seemed then …

As the music died ….. Claire let herself go … and *died* too.

-----

Tango Studio

Round and round they spun. 1-2-3-4

Feet weaving their intricate pattern. 5-6-7-8

The sun caught the mirror in a flash of light.

There was small "Thud" at the window.

Claire felt a shiver, rise through her body, that she was unable to control. He felt her distress and stopped.

"What is the matter " Sei took hold of her shoulders and at full stretch held her in his gaze.

"Claire, what is it? " he looked closely "you are very pale."

Instinctively she turned to the window, but she knew something had happened far away.

"Come Claire" Sei danced the slow haunting Dance of Death to Pachelbel's Canon.

"I need my partner."

She came to him. He stroked her cheek….

"It’s only a bird … it is dazed it will live to fly again."

"The sunlight and the mirror sometimes confuse them and they fly into the glass."

He took her hand and walked to the window. Sure enough, fluttering, the bird again took flight.

-----

Tango Studio

The shadow passed.

Sometimes Claire felt she was too receptive to intuitive feelings. She shut them out and absorbed the tango heartbeat.

"Back to the beginning Claire?" Sei considered.

"No … I have something special"

Sei went to the tape machine again, this time he stopped the music.

"This does not need to be rushed, think of the music within your head."

He stood opposite her, then placed her hands around his neck and looked her full in the eye.

"I will lift you … So ….." Sei wound both arms round her waist, and easily lifted her so she was looking down at a mop of blond hair with the idiosyncratic parting.

Claire moved her hands to the natural position, behind his head.

"Now …Slide down…." He looked up at her, leant slightly backwards, loosened his grip.

Her hands travelled down through his hair to rest round his neck as she slipped slowly down against the cool cotton shirt until her feet touched the floor again.

"Feet grounded and …. Turn away" he swung her away and fell to his knees.

"Now with the music I think …. Remember the heartbeat Claire."

"Once again …" he lifted her higher.1-2-3-4

"And slide……" time suspended. 5-6-7-8

And again…. And again …

She drew level, the grip tightened, the music overwhelmed, empowered, and finally seduced.

It was going to happen .. she wanted it to … and so … they sought each other.

-----

The weather was appalling driving sleet obscuring even the weak rays of a winter morning.

Little outwardly had changed in the intervening weeks. The door paint flaked rather more and the selection of buzzers, familiar as a musician’s keyboard, drew her like a magnet.

Still she hesitated. Fingers blue with cold, poised.

Knowing she was there for all the wrong reasons.

Before she could draw away or make the decision, the door lurched open and the howling gale crashed the door heavily against the interior wall.

"Please close the door whoever it is …. The lock has broken."

There was no turning back. The voice, strong above the sound of the wind, seduced as it had done before.

She stepped over the threshold and turned to wedge the door shut.

Aware before the audible gasp of her name that he was present.

-----

His hand brushed her shoulder. "Claire."

Impossible dilemma.

Knowing, with a single look into his eyes, resolution melted and washed away forgotten, she stood facing the door.

Turn the handle. Go back. There can be nothing for you here.

"You came …. back."

So close she felt the warmth of this words. Faint breath on her cheek.

Please don’t speak. I must go. This is a mistake.

Turn the handle. There was something before. In the past not now.

"Look at me please."

The voice made her die an inch at a time. Still time to escape. Go now before …

Just one touch to be certain. One touch to feel nothing but the truth. Then she could be free.

Turn the handle, Claire. Think of tomorrow not yesterday.

-----

Present Day.

His hand reached out, lifted hers away from the door handle and guided round so that it was impossible for her not to turn.

"Claire, you *are* freezing." Cupping both hands in his, he slowly backed down the corridor towards The Studio, drawing her to familiar surroundings and warmth within.

Unfamiliar words but familiar rhythms drifted towards them.

"You’ll remember me when the west wind woos "...

" .... upon the fields of barley"...

There was another crash as the door was flung open by the wintry gusts.

"Wait there, don’t move." Quickly he re-latched the lock and wedged paper back in the door jam. "There, that should hold it for a while." He brushed his fingers through his hair and looked apologetic. "Landlords repairing lease" he said. "Just have to wait to get it fixed."

"So she took her love for to gaze a while ..."

" .... upon the fields of barley" ....

"Before Christmas.." he began. She held his gaze, watching the iris swirl in honey colours, loosing doubts with each moment. This *was* the right place.

"When you never came the next day…I .." He looked away and started to rustle for a set of mugs. Claire watched him set the kettle, before slipping off her coat.

"I thought …I *knew * I had scared you away." She went to the tape machine and switched the gentle tango beat to continuous.

"It was unprofessional … unforgivable" he continued.

"In his arms she fell as her hair came down…"

"among the fields of gold." ...

"Unforgivable" she echoed "Sei". He turned.

She placed his right hand round her waist and her left hand upon his shoulder. Then crossed his palm over hers, and drew it up higher to the side." Where they go we follow" she repeated his early words from the first Tango lesson.

"Claire .. " No further words were necessary. Back in harmony, moving as one they followed the small pulse of the beat. Smooth rhythm in time with the heartbeat.

"Will you stay with me, will you be my love... "

"among the fields of barley." ....

The life of the tango, suspended time. Claire had never been away.

"Did you tango like this at the wedding?" He whispered. There was no answer, but he felt her tense. So he swept her up, stepped back and let her fall into him. She stayed face against his shirt, letting the tears soak into the cotton, uttering no sound. Still they moved in synchronicity.

"Feel her body rise will you kiss her mouth..."

"among the fields of gold." ....

He could feel the damp, knew that she was crying out some hurt of which he knew nothing. At last the time was right. Sei lifted her arms around his neck and hoisted her aloft. Seeing the tears, letting her slowly slide down against him before kissing them away.

-----

Invisible bonds held them together. She seemed to find the rhythm comforting, so he continued to move in tango time although her feet barely touched the floor. Her arms rested where he had placed them around his neck, and he carried her as a child.

"Feel her body rise will you kiss her mouth ..."

"among the fields of gold." ...

He had followed centimetre by centimetre the faint saline paths, lightly brushing across her skin towards her mouth, but she had turned away burying her head in his shoulder. "Do you want to tell me about it Claire?" he had asked, but there was no reply. He knew she was far away without him.

"Will you stay with me, will you be my love..."

" ..among the fields of barley." ...

Sinclair she thought, every time you asked me stay, it was harder to say no. I believed in you, trusted you, but you threw it away. Closing her eyes would not erase, crying did not wash away the images of them together.

"We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky ..."

"as we walk in fields of gold" ...

The urgent scream of the kettle forced him to slow to a stop. Gently Sei unwound her arms and their bodies parted. As he set her down he sensed an inner peace returning.

"I’m going to make us some tea … can you see if there is any milk?" he busied himself.

"You’ll remember me when the west wind woos ..."

"upon the fields of barley."...

She watched him move, recollecting the first time she had seen him as a tall aristocratic looking man in his late thirties stepping into the light. She had stared wide-eyed and speechless "You have come for the Tango Lessons?" he had had to ask twice.

"The milk Claire, or do you take it black?" Sei prompted. She knelt at the tiny refrigerator beneath the counter to find an open carton.

"Shall I change the tape?" he handed out the tea.

"No. It’s fine." Easy conversation.

They slipped the warm liquid allowing the music to wash over them. "I don’t need to know but.." Sei hesitated unsure how to proceed. "Did something happened whilst you were … away?"

"For she took her love for to gaze a while ..."

"upon the fields of barley"…

Running a finger down the side of her face and lifting her chin, looking into her clouded eyes, he saw his question partly answered. He removed the mug from her hands, then the teacher spoke to the pupil. "Let us see what you have remembered about the Tango Argentino." Perhaps he could make her forget, dissolve her anguish in the allure of the music.

"We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky ..."

"as we lie in fields of gold" ...

Sinclair, she longed to ask. Had I answered as you wished … would you lie *with* me ... or still lie *to* me?

--------

Shadows of the late afternoon, lengthened in the Tango Studio.

Gradually the pain slipped away, soothed by the hypnotic rhythm.

Claire could feel the movement of his muscles and shoulder blade under her hand placed on his shoulder. Imperceptibly at first, not realising, she began to move her thumb in a small caressing motion over the collar bone she felt beneath the shirt.

He felt this first response and knew that she was returning from a distant place.

This time as he flung her away the returning embrace was a fraction tighter. Their eye contact held longer as the gaze between them mellowed. From the slight crinkle at the edges, he knew without looking that she was smiling.

Accepting these signals as a challenge, Sei led her deep into the more physical movements of the tango. Erotic replaced hypnotic.

The steps grew faster and instead of concentrating on the delicate weaving of their feet, it became a duel between them.

He strode across her, dominated, daring her fight against him. In turn she gave implicit trust, relaxing into the deep sweeps, matching his courage.

"I swear in the days still left ...."

"You will walk in fields of gold" ...

He stood close behind her. They faced the mirror together. This time they moved as shadows.

Then they moved as one.

*You did come back for me*

She arched back into him and Sei dipped down into her neck in a faint brushing movement of tiny mouth caresses.

"Never made promises like it …I swear in the days still left"

"We’ll walk in fields of gold"...

In a practised move he turned her towards him. They dropped to their knees. Hands and mouths moving searching. Intimate. Desperate. Exploring and finding.

"We’ll walk in fields of gold"...

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