I made sure I got there a bit later in the evening. New Orleans was hot, and this piano place could make you a sweaty mess if you were there too long.
That night I was wearing a wide strapped black cotton dress that crossed over in the front. It hung beautifully and looked super-hot with my black patent strappy heels. (Note to self: No more heels in New Orleans).
I was out with a longtime friend and just about to take a sip of my second Hurricane when he approached me and asked me to dance. “People dance here?” I thought.
I obliged him and we danced very closely as the first hurricane kicked in. His friend asked my friend to dance and then within 30 minutes there were 7 guys from a steamship conference at our table. Drinks flowed almost as fast as the laughs. I was lost in his eyes. He never stopped touching me. The rings on my left hand did not bother him and the ring on his left did not bother me.