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Hot Rhythms

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"Come on, Derek, you'll be one to oblige me just this once, won't you," Savannah insisted, glancing down at Morgan, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. "After all, how often do I pick where we go out?"

Morgan sighed. "Honey, I don't mind you picking something. But does it have to be a Latin dance club? I heard about a new disco very close to your favorite Italian place. Wouldn't you rather go out for dinner first and then see what the disco is like?"

But Savannah put her hands on her hips and Derek already knew he had lost this discussion. "Don't be like that. I hear the club is great. Mirjam and Sarah have been there with their boyfriends, too. And they were quite enthusiastic."

Peter and Damian were probably less enthusiastic, Derek thought. Only the partners of Savannah's friends weren't allowed to show it. They were under the henhouse, after all. And now he had to be careful that the same didn't happen to him.

"This dancing by the rules is so not my thing," Derek tried to find a way out, building himself up in front of his girlfriend. "You know I'm a rebel." He took Savannah in his arms, pulled her close, and then purred in her ear. "Hot and dirty, that's my motto, and you can't do that in a stilted dance posture. And I know how much you like it when I remind you of the bedroom while we are still dancing."

"Derek!", Savannah admonished him playfully, giggling. "We won't get out of the house like this at all!"

"Do we even have to," Morgan echoed. "We can go upstairs right now, can't we? That's where I'll show you how the mattress waltz works." He grinned suggestively.

"Derek Morgan! Not like that!" said Savannah suddenly firmly, freeing herself from Derek's arms. "I'm not going to let sex get in the way of my plans. I promised Mirjam and Sarah we'd meet them at the club tonight. And unless you'd rather spend the night on the sofa, you're coming with me."

Ouch! thought Morgan. So much for being careful so he wouldn't be pussy-whipped.

"I'm going to make a total fool of myself," he tried another tactic. "Peter and Damian at least have some idea how to dance this stuff - cha cha, rumba, mambo, whatever. You're not seriously going to make a fool of yourself with me?"

But Savannah tilted her head. "You're not a fool, Derek. You've got rhythm in your blood and some eyes in your head to pick up a few steps from the other men there. So finally give up making any more excuses. Or: I might as well throw your bedding down the stairs."

Morgan rolled his eyes. Yes, he could call his bluff, of course, and pick a fight with Savannah over something like going to the club. But was it really worth it?

"Okay, you know, the smart one gives in. You'll get your way," he conceded defeat. "But don't complain to me later when I keep stepping on your toes."

Savannah grinned and immediately returned to Derek's arms. "No complaints. And when we get back, I'll show you what you can do with a salsa hip-swing in bed."