The band is quiet as the greying man with the bandoneón starts his wailing song while accompanying himself. The dance floor of this smoky bar fills with couples even before the band begins to play.

I see her standing across the room, her brown hair slicked back into a tight bun, her painted, ruby red lips a violent slap against her pale skin, her dark eyes scanning the room for something worth her while.

The intoxicating strangeness of the words in the old man’s song compels me towards her, my reason screaming all the way that she’s way out of my league. Without a word I walk up to her, hold out my hand and raise an eyebrow. She seems a little impressed in spite of herself and places her hand into mine, giving me a smile that’s all dare; “Let’s see what you’re about”.

Gently but decisively I guide her onto the dance floor and as the melody of the tango washes over us she drapes herself on my arms and surrenders to my every whim.