Well, my synopsis line here says it all.

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THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis: Sequel to "Bolero." More ballroom dancing. More mushy stuff. But short, for once.

"MAMBO"

by Eric R. Umali

"TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four..."

The sweat was beginning to sting Jonny Quest's eyes, and he knew it had already nearly soaked his T-shirt. His legs ached, and his feet were killing him, but he had to keep going.

"TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four..."

Jessie Bannon stuck out her lower lip, blowing a stray lock of her red hair out of her face. It was harder than usual, as her hair was getting damp. Everything was starting to hurt, but she knew she couldn't stop.

"TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four..."

*Here it comes,* Jessie thought to herself, *remember, arms tense, left leg straight and just let go.* She held her breath.

*Here it comes,* Jonny thought at the same moment. He tightened his grasp on Jessie's wrists. *TWO, three...*

"FOUR!"

He dropped his hands straight down. Jessie let her left leg slide out from under her and felt her body drop straight towards the hardwood floor, eyes closed.

She opened her eyes. Jessie was now in a prone position, her tensed body parallel and just three inches from the floor. She looked up and followed her outstretched arms to where she was hanging onto Jonny's wrists, letting him hold up her whole weight.

Jonny pulled her up slowly, bringing her arms over his head. They were close enough to feel each other's breath. It was very distracting. A voice snapped them back.

"That was a great death drop, guys! But I didn't teach you that ending." Anne Marie said, smiling.

"We, uh, kinda came up with that ourselves," Jonny said grinning.

"It looks terrific," Anne Marie replied. "Take a break."

Jessie and Jonny gratefully collapsed into a couple of nearby chairs. Jonny grabbed a towel from the duffel bag under his seat and dried off as Jessie reached over and took out a bottle of water. She tilted back her head and squirted the much needed liquid into her mouth. Jonny looked over, and Jessie offered the bottle to him. In response, he opened his own mouth wide. Jessie shook her head.

"You get weirder every day, you know that?" she said, then shot the water into his gaping jaws. Jonny wasn't quite ready and coughed.

"Yeah, and you love me for it," he replied.

Jessie sighed. "Despite it, you mean." She gave him a quick peck on the lips and grabbed her own towel. "So, do you think the number's good enough?"

"I think the number's great." Jonny pictured the two of them performing the routine they'd just practiced. On stage. In front of people. A lot of people. He swallowed.

Jessie saw it and smiled. "Yeah, I know. It's a pretty scary idea, huh? Dancing in front of all those people?"

Jonny nodded. "Who'd've thought it? A couple of months ago, we were good friends who thought ballroom dancing was for the weird. And now?"

"Now," she continued for him, "we're ballroom addicts, we're best friends... and more..." Her arms began to snake around his neck. Jonny began to respond in kind until he saw Anne Marie, their coach, standing to the side, tapping her foot.

"Save the thought for later, Jess," he said, reluctantly letting go of his... girlfriend. *Even if we're together for the rest of my life, I'll never stop being amazed that I get to say that about her.*

"Later. Gotcha." Jessie smiled at the words. *Good,* she thought, *we haven't gotten into some good necking in, oh, what, twelve hours now?*

Anne Marie watched the two young people and could read their faces quite well. "Don't worry," she said to them, "Falling in love with your partner's not uncommon. Heck, I married mine." She pointed towards the other end of the studio, where her husband John was teaching his own students.

"Ready to get back to work?" she said.

Groaning slightly, the two teenagers rose and went back to rehearsing.

Anne Marie rubbed her hands together. "Okay. You've got the steps all down fine. Now we need to work on the attitude. Mambo is a Cuban dance. It's got a lot of energy, but it's not as... exuberant as, say, Swing or Jive. It's kind of flirty." She paused. "Well, you've got _that_ down."

Jessie grinned.

"But there's more. You need to get more... what do I want to say?"

"More Latin?" Jonny offered.

"That's it! Jonny, what gets your blood going? Jessie, what... lights your fire?"

Jonny shifted his weight, unsure of how to answer. He glanced at Jessie, who was now blushing fiercely. "Well..." he started.

Anne Marie laughed. "It's okay, guys. The fact that you two are together should make this easier, more heartfelt." She motioned for them to get into dance hold. "Look into each other's eyes," she explained, "You're not just dancing with each other, you're dancing _for_ each other."

They started into a few of the opening steps of their routine, gazing intently at each other. They'd both seen what Anne Marie was talking about. Since their initial exposure to ballroom, they'd immersed themselves in it. Their CD's of "Dirty Dancing", "Mambo Kings", and "Four Chords and Several Years Ago" rarely had time to cool before their next playing, and their video of "Strictly Ballroom" was nearly worn out. More importantly, they'd gone to several DanceSport competitions and watched, spellbound by the dancing.

They had seen the difference that the connection Anne Marie was alluding to made in a couple. The best dancers seemed to be in almost telepathic contact, reading each other's minds, feeding off each other's energy. It was the difference between a good couple and a great couple. As Jessie had once put it, maybe there were more technically perfect dancers, but there was only _one_ Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

But Jonny and Jessie were not Fred and Ginger, and after a minute, they lost focus and fell out of rhythm. "I'm sorry," Jonny said.

"It's okay," replied Anne Marie. "You've been at it for hours. Remember, when it's not fun anymore, it's time to stop. But we're not there yet. Let's try something else."

"Jessie, Jonny, relax and close your eyes." The young dancers did so. "Clear your minds. Let the aches, the tiredness flow out of you. Relax." She reached over to the stereo and began playing the music for their routine, but adjusting it so they could hear almost nothing but the beat.

"Listen to the rhythm. Where do you feel it?" They started tapping their feet. "No, no. You don't feel it in your head or your feet. It's in your guts, in your heart. Let go of thinking about your steps and your technique and all that for now. Listen to the rhythm. Where do you feel it?"

Jonny could feel it. The timbales were pounding their beat, and when he stopped counting in his head, his guts took over. It was like his entire body took on the rhythm. Jessie felt it higher. She felt it as if her heartbeats were in time to the music, to the pulses of the drums.

"Now," Anne Marie continued, pleased with what she saw so far, "the connection. The attitude. Jonny, what do you feel when Jessie's near you? Don't answer," she said quickly before he could open his mouth. "I don't want to hear. I want to see. And I want you to feel."

Jonny imagined her in his arms. The way she could look at him and make him think he was the only guy in the entire world. The way she smelled like strawberries after washing her hair. The way she tasted like them, too, when he kissed her neck and shoulders. The way she made his blood boil, like it was doing now.

Jessie brought herself to that night after the French Ambassador's party, on the lighthouse tower. When he'd given her his coat, and she pulled it around her because it held the scent of his cologne. When she realized the sound of his voice told her she was the most beautiful woman on Earth. When she first learned how he could light her fire, which was burning high now.

Anne Marie's husband had joined her. "Is it getting warmer in here?" he whispered to her, then gave her a quick kiss.

"Later, John. I want to see if they can pull it all together." She turned back to Jessie and Jonny. "All right, slowly open your eyes, and try again."

Without a word, Jonny walked behind Jessie and to her left. He stood close enough for her to feel his breath. Anne Marie started the music again. The rhythm pounded in their temples.

TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four... TWO, three, four...

Jessie raised her left arm slowly. Jonny lifted his own and ran his hand down her arm, as she curled it around his neck. She turned her head to him and closed her eyes. She felt the hand slide down her side to her waist. She grasped it with her left hand and held her breath.

TWO, three... FOUR!

Jessie spun away, and when she came to rest, she opened her eyes. Her ears filled with shouts, her eyes with the bright stage lights. She let the rhythm take over, and her body moved of its own accord. The skirt of her emerald green dress twirled as she turned, the shiny threads glittering. It was a stunning costume, and accentuated every movement.

Jonny pulled Jessie to him and dipped her in a low arc. Not being able to hear the music over the crowd, he felt the beat through his body. He felt like a different person in his costume, with its black silk shirt, high-waisted black trousers and especially the Cuban heeled dance shoes. As he brought Jessie back in, their eyes locked.

The connection was made. The world fell away.

Suddenly, there was no shouting, no bright lights. There were no more steps, no more routine. There was no audience, not even any music. There was Jessie, and Jonny, and the beating of their hearts.

They followed the rhythm for another two minutes-- an eternity. There was no nervous pause before the death drop this time. The cheers were too loud to shut out now, but they didn't care. Jonny pulled her up, and she draped her arms around him.

He whispered to her. "Still having fun?"

She smiled. "The time of my life."

Instead of spinning out to bow, Jessie pulled him to her and kissed him, and didn't stop until well after the curtain came down.

THE END.

Bonus: My favorite dancing insult: "He wouldn't know dancing if it came up and bit him on the pachanga!"