1 ALEJANDRO February. Thursday night. Liverpool. Salsa. My favourite night of the week, salsa. It was the only place I could let my hair down, feel alive and free. I’d been going for months now, and it was a place of refuge, a place where I could empty my overfull mind. I needed that escape. Salsa was my place to shut it all off, be a woman, led by a man, listen to the rhythm, and just feel, respond, and dance. February knew how to bite at your cheeks, chest, and hands, and I was desperate to dance to warm up. I waited in the crowd of apprehensive new dancers and confident regulars, looking around, wondering who I might end up dancing with tonight. Right before the session was about to begin, an incredibly handsome man walked through the door. He had a chiselled jaw, structured cheekbones, and a cut-off black T-shirt displaying muscular biceps and an ample chest. I kept glancing in his direction. He looked a little over six-foot in comparison to my five-foot four-inch frame. He had almost-black hair, cut short at the sides with a couple of inches more height on top, and a gorgeous, olive-tanned complexion. Greek, Spanish, Italian, or French perhaps. I wondered. Even at a distance, I could see his bright-blue eyes sparkling behind dark, rectangular glasses. He had the appearance of a deeply intelligent Armani model and radiated confidence. To my surprise, after shaking the hand of the man on the door, and exchanging brief pleasantries, he went straight to the front of the class. He wasn’t there to learn; he was the new teacher. How thrilling. Curiosity started to form immediately, like a strong magnet pulling me toward him. I don’t think I was the only one in the class feeling the attraction, considering the way a few of the other women were eyeing him. I had no chance; he was far too handsome. I checked his ring finger and to my surprise, found there was no evidence he was already taken. “Okay, class, gather around. I’m your new instructor, and my name is Alejandro.” He spoke in a soft Spanish accent that seemed to drip into my senses. He smiled at the class as we gathered round and briefly made eye contact with me His eyes were a pure cobalt blue, sparkling against his olive skin. I caught my eyes lingering on his upper torso and arms. “Line up in rows, and we’ll go through some basic salsa steps. I’ll teach the men how to lead and the women to follow. The men are in total control of the steps, and the women respond to the leaders’ cues. He took centre front and turned around, so it was easier for us to copy him. His back was solid and V-shaped, his waist tapered into his belt, and his faded blue jeans revealed a firm backside and thick thighs. He was a visual delight. I was already imagining how I would feel in his arms. “Basic,” he demonstrated, showing his left foot going forward, shifting the weight onto his front foot, and then onto his right back foot. His hips had a snake-like quality to them. It felt like he was a snake charmer, and I was being slowly mesmerised by his movements. They looked like poetry to me. We copied the steps, and he repeated the move several times, allowing people to get the hang of it before moving on. “Now, side to side.” He moved his left foot to the side, centre, then right side. His hips had a languid sway, and his whole frame was rhythm personified. It flowed through his back, arms, hips, and legs. He looked so artistic as he moved, and I couldn’t help but admire that about him. After a few goes, Alejandro said, “Good. Now the open back move.” He demonstrated the left foot opening out to the back. “Okay, class, you all look like you’ve got the basics, so I’m going to put some music on, and we’ll go over the basic steps to music first.” As the rhythm of the music kicked in, with only minor corrections to the group, everyone eventually started to synchronise. “Excellent,” he said at the end of the song. “We’re going to take it up a notch now.” I’d been going for several months now, so the steps came easily. I no longer thought about the specifics of the move, just the flow of them through my body. He counted out the beat, as the class tried to turn. One woman stumbled in her heels, and four men whom I’d not seen before ended up laughing at their lack of ability. A few of us giggled sympathetically because we’d all been there. Alejandro went over to the group. “Is this your first time?” he asked the guys. One of them replied, “Can’t you tell?” We all laughed. “Okay. Follow me slowly,” Alejandro said and repeated the move slowly for them a couple more times. “Have you got it now?” “As much as we ever will,” said the funny one. Not everyone took dancing seriously. For many, it was just a different type of night out, something to do for a giggle, or to try and hook up. After the lesson it was more of a social event. For the diehards like me, dancing was a lifeline. There were only a handful of us who came every week, but those were the people I enjoyed dancing with most. I loved dancing with the “Boxer,” who started when I did, the “Silver fox,” a distinguished gentleman who glided, the “Counter,” who counted One-Two-Three, Five-Six-Seven to every move. Then there were my four favourites, the “Romanian” who was a beautifully smooth dancer, the “Heartbreaker,” who moved sensually, giving great eye contact, the “Charmer,” who was gorgeous to dance with and had a cheeky, vibrant personality, and the “Soul of salsa,” who was an incredibly warm person, and a truly phenomenal mover. I used a memorable nickname in my head for everyone, as I was never very good with names. Every week, I avoided the “Hairy biker” with the dark creepy stare, the “Arm cracker,” the “Accidental boob grazer,” and the “Hip lunger,” for obvious reasons. I identified them in ways that helped me remember if I wanted to dance with them or avoid them. Alejandro called out to the class. “Okay, followers please go to the left-hand side of the room, leaders please go to the right." We separated to the two different sides and Alejandro asked if there were any regulars in the room, looking at the ladies’ side of the room. Aside from me, two other women raised their hands. He smiled and held out his hand to me, “Would you do the honour of assisting me?” I blushed, immediately taking it. His hand was firm, and warm. My fingers looked petite in his. Leading me to the front of the class, I desperately tried to keep my composure. Being this close to Alejandro was making me feel aroused and I was struggling with the sensation. When I stood in front of him, I was awestruck by his eyes. Hypnotic blue with gold flecks radiating out from the centre. I tried to stop myself from blushing. Something about his glasses made me feel timid around him, like he was a teacher, and I was his student, although his eyes were warm and inviting. Alejandro flashed a beautiful smile at me and then said to the class, “Right, now I’m going to show you the cross-body lead. Leaders, this is your step,” After he was confident the men had the hang of it, he said. “Now it's your turn, ladies.” I followed the prompt, while Alejandro broke it down in words. I got a little nervous with everyone watching me. He had me repeat the move a couple of times, then went over to help a lady who was turning the wrong way. There was a beautiful confidence to him I couldn’t help but admire. What was it about him? Alejandro returned to me. “Right, now we’re going to put the two moves together." As I stepped back, he opened his stance, leading me perfectly across his body, placing his hand on my back to guide me, gently pulling me through the open space, then using his left hand to support me as I turned. Being at such proximity to his body was intoxicating, as was his hand upon the curve of my spine and the way he held my hand as he guided me around him. “You have a beautiful flow to your dance steps,” he whispered quietly. I crumbled a little at the softening of his accent. I wasn’t expecting him to be lovely, too. “Right, now we dance salsa. Partner up. Don’t be shy, no one will bite you here.” Several members of the class laughed simultaneously, reflecting they felt that way. “Remember to be respectful to your partner and be careful of your hand placement.” He whispered to me, “Do you mind if I keep you as a partner?” “I don’t mind at all,” I said, smiling warmly, trying to maintain my composure. “Let’s go. Basic,” he said, raising his voice and we both instinctively felt the move. The class copied. I started to let the beat flow through me, as Alejandro’s hips and mine synchronised perfectly with the rhythm. I could feel a beautiful ache building in my loins and my breathing started to slow. I was so aroused, dancing close to him, and I had no idea how to feel about that because it had never happened before in class. I also knew I shouldn’t feel that way about a total stranger. Alejandro took us through all the moves we’d learned earlier. By the time we’d done a few of each step, you could feel the confidence growing in the group, as if the basics were starting to click. Alejandro took us back to the beginning again and continued to loop through the sequenced moves until everyone looked confident. That naturally closed the beginners’ session, and everyone was on a high. What a beautiful and fulfilling hour, and what an incredible feeling he left me with. “Great work class,” Alejandro said, clapping, everyone joining in, applauding their own achievements. “Have a 15-minute break and we’ll resume with the advanced class, for those who wish to stay.” Alejandro was still standing next to me after we’d finished demonstrating. He turned to me. “May I ask your name?” he asked, with that sexy sparkle in his eyes. “Leila” I said, completely aware of my flushing cheeks and coy response. “That’s a beautiful name. Are you staying for the advanced class?” I paused briefly and wondered if there was any way I could stay and then remembered I had to be at work at 7 a.m. “I can’t tonight, I have an early start tomorrow, but I’ll be here next week.” I was gutted. “Well, it was a great pleasure dancing with you tonight, Leila. Will you be my glamorous assistant next week?” As if I could resist that offer. “Of course, see you next week.” As I walked away, he grabbed my hand and kissed me on both cheeks. My body flushed at the contact, and I felt he registered it before I turned and said, “Goodnight, Alejandro." I took a picture of his face with my mental camera. Point. Click. I imagined stroking a single finger down his cheek and felt a strong surge going through me to kiss him. How am I going to control my thoughts around you? 2 LEXI February. Friday morning. Liverpool. Office. It was nearly the end of February and a chilly morning, the week thankfully nearly over. The weekend was ringing the bells of freedom in my mind. My yawning was at its peak. I’d had an early start most days this week trying to hit an editing deadline, and I couldn’t wait to sleep in. Criminal journalism could be draining, constantly chasing local stories, completing interviews and transcripts, researching and gathering materials, photos, graphics, and timeline information. Then there were article drafts, double checking for accuracy, checking with the legal department to ensure there’s nothing we could get sued for, trying to meet both writing and editing deadlines. I often worked late. I loved my job, but it tended to be mentally intensive. Sometimes, work deeply affected me. On the worst days, I felt overwhelmed, so I had to learn how to shut off and hold some of me back in reserve. I had worked my way up over my time at The Liverpool Express. In addition to assisting criminal investigations, I now conducted in-depth interviews with local crime victims. Some of the people I visited were in a state of mental trauma and that was tough. Ultimately, if I could help these people find justice in any way, it felt like a truly worthwhile career. Exhaustion often built up over the week, but alcohol normally perked me up on Friday night and I had a blissful lie-in to look forward to each week. I needed these things to stay balanced. I exercised when I could, going for a run or visiting the gym just around the corner. One great thing about Liverpool and city living was I had everything I could possibly need. “Do you want to hook up for lunch today?” asked Lexi, hovering by my desk. I quickly replied, “Yes.” The friendship between Lexi and I kept us going. She was my closest friend in the office, and we’d been working together for several years. We were close, and she was the only one that completely understood the work demands we faced, as she had a similar role on another team, as a community reporter. I met Lexi by her desk. “You look lovely today,” I said. Lexi was wearing a cream crossover shirt, which curved around her ample shape, and a beige fitted skirt with nude heels. Her perfume was subtle with a slight hint of flowers, which matched her sweet personality. She picked up her beige handbag and grabbed a taupe, mid-thigh length winter coat from the coat rack. ’I’ll be back at 1p.m., Tim,” she said, as she walked past him. “Okay, see you later,” Tim grumbled, engrossed in writing an email, not even looking up at her as she left. It was only a short walk to the café. The weather was bitter, and we wrapped our coats around us, tightly linking arms. There was a lovely warm blast from the heater above us as we walked through the door and approached the till. “What are you having?” asked Lexi. “It’s my turn to buy.” “Hmm, fresh orange and a tuna salad wrap, please,” I said, my stomach rumbling. “Cappuccino and a chicken and bacon wrap. please.” We found a table by the edge of the room and sat down, hanging our coats over the back. “Soooooo, I met someone I like,” I blurted, beaming like an idiot. “Oh, do tell!” she implored. “His name’s Alejandro, and I met him at salsa last night. He’s the instructor. I think he likes me, too. I’m not really sure, but I think he does.” “So, you may or may not have met a guy, then,” she said, giggling. I loved, and always laughed at her dry humour. “I felt a pull to him Lexi, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can’t wait until next week.” I felt overexcited, like a puppy, just thinking about him. “What does he look like? Age? Hair colour? I want all the gossip,” she said, playfully slapping both hands on the table. “He’s Spanish, his eyes are striking.” I retrieved his image from my emotional camera, recalling him in detail. “He’s around six feet tall and has an accent to die for.” The meals arrived and we started eating, carrying on our lively conversation, conscious of the one-hour time slot. “So, he’s definitely single, the really hot amazingly gorgeous Spanish guy with an accent to die for?” Lexi asked and for the first time, my heart sunk. What if he already has a partner? What if he is just a flirtatious guy? “He wasn’t wearing a ring and I assume he is single because he was giving off vibes,” I said, feeling a bit worried. “Well, maybe establish that before you get carried away. This isn’t like you at all. I’ve never seen you fawn over a guy before.” “Honestly Lex, I don’t know. There’s an attraction to him I can’t fathom.” “Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.” “I know Lex, I’ll try and find out a little more about him next week.” “How’s that piece on the homeless in Liverpool coming?” I asked, changing the subject. “Heart-breaking. Most of the people I’ve spoken to have had back luck and they’re struggling to cope– some have lost jobs or have split up with partners and lost their homes. Some don’t have family they can turn to. It’s sad; it will be an emotional piece when I wrap it up.” Lexi grimaced. “Is Janice still being a cow about not getting the piece?” “Of course, I have no idea what on earth her problem is, but she’s never liked me from day one.” “She’s bitter, hunni. She’s got such a chip on her shoulder, like the world owes her something. Leave her to it and ignore her,” I added. “I know, she’s not worth the aggravation. I only speak to her when I must now. Anyway, I won’t waste another breath on Janice. You’re so lucky on your team, you’re all normal.” Lexi normally had a no-nonsense way of looking at things and she was down to earth. I loved her for that, but with Janice, who could rile even a saint, she found it hard not to engage. I glanced at my watch. “We’d best head back. Time always flies so fast with you,” I said. We headed back to the office giggling and chatting about office politics. I couldn’t help but be distracted, my thoughts constantly drifting back to last night and Alejandro, but now with the sombre addition that perhaps he wasn’t available and just had a flirty personality. I must stop letting my thoughts get ahead of me with him. Facts. Get facts, Leila. Think with your head. 3 WATCHER 8:37 a.m. You caught my eye, the shape of you, your eyes, your hair, your skin, your smile, the way you made small talk with the stranger next to you and the way you bought a coffee and sandwich for the homeless man sitting outside the shop. You were kind, so sweet and innocent. I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you; to touch you, to hold you, to consume you. I could be anything you wanted me to be. That was the first day, the first moment I realised you were the one. The next one. That was the first time I started following you. It’s been four months now. You’re so oblivious to your surroundings, never looking behind you. You feel safe in your world, the route you walk to and from work, the places you visit every week, the way you don’t always lock your door when you go into your house. So beautifully unaware of the eyes that follow you, and the desire that builds every time I get just that bit closer to you. I touched you last week, your soft immaculate skin. You didn’t even realise. I touched you last week. I will touch you again.