Tango (excerpt from Confined)

  • Published by Tertulia Magazine, April 2007
  • She turns her head briskly to one side and curls her arm around his neck. His eyes are confronted with her right ear. He grabs her waist as if to show an invisible rival that she is his. He cannot decide whether to bite her long pointed earlobe, or kiss it. Her ebony straight hair has been combed back with water and fastened into a bun. Her charcoal net tights make her curved calves itch, but she ignores this sensation. She is used to it. From the lapel of her black shirt hangs a blooming fabric rose painted the same color as her lips: red. Her sharp heels elevate from the ground as she leans her supple breasts against his chest, which is hostile and virile. His hair, black also, is held by a slim pony tail and hair gel. He bears a suit like the ones the malevos used to wear in the beginning of the century to brawl and tango amid the dark streets of San Fernando and the filthy edges of the Riachuelo: striped gray pants; white shirt; black vest; wide tie; pointed patent leather shoes. The orchestra – consisting of two large accordions or bandoneones, a guitar, a base, a piano and a saxophone – is given queue to start playing. (…)

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