It was Tuesday night’s Salsa club, where I frequented every week to dance my cares away. I loved the social aspect too, of meeting new people. The format of the class was an hour’s long instruction, in which the females would dance around an outer ring, rotating one partner to the left with each new track. The men were in the inner circle. Sometimes if the ratios were in favour of the ladies, there’d be enough men to pair with. When the women outnumbered the men, females would partner up. That way they’d have the best of both worlds; they could either lead a dance as the male traditionally would. Or they’d follow their partner’s lead.
Dancing a couple of slower tracks first to warm up, our instructor Michael called out the basic steps to help any newbies and refresh those of us feeling rusty. “Mambo, cha-cha-cha, rondé turn, cross-body lead and hook turn.” I was dancing with a young guy called Stefan, and he had an easy-going nature. He didn’t mind my clumsy feet occasionally falling out of time with the beat. For this reason, I ended up dancing with him in the free-style section after the main class on a regular basis. A couple of guys seemed to take the dancing a bit too seriously. I wanted to enjoy myself, not feel like I was impeding their learning. So I tended to avoid initiating any dances with them.
Our lesson seemed to hurtle along, and soon enough the hour’s tuition was up. Michael selected a new CD for the ‘freestylers’ to dance to. After grabbing a drink at the bar, Stefan boldly sidled alongside me, held his hand out and asked “want to practise a few of those hook-turns again?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t mind trampled toes!” I joked to him. Winking at me, he assured “it’s ok; I have my protective footwear on!” Trotting over to the dance-floor we worked up a little routine to the music. My feet behaved themselves, but as we danced I felt my nipples stiffen in my bra. Stefan had a boyish cuteness, and he was sure of himself. Not cocky or arrogant though.
We chatted as we danced and conversation was natural. One of his other hobbies was photography; he enjoyed capturing people in the moment, whether they were running through the park or sailing at the lake. He mused that he would like to take my picture sometime, “I love your bone structure, and the lines you draw when you sway to the music.”
At this point, I considered he might be looking to pull another kind of partner. Plenty of men went to dance classes for the women, so why should he be any different? Whether that was on his agenda or no, I was happy to see where the dancing would lead. After a few more tracks, we’d worked up a thirst again, so returned to the bar for last orders. Sipping my Cuba Libre with a devil-may-care mind-set, I found myself offering to be his subject for an impromptu photo-shoot! There was time for one last dance before we headed back to his apartment.
We left shortly after, holding hands as we briskly walked. I was secretly pleased with myself for remembering to wear matching underwear. Stefan wouldn’t have minded either way, I was sure. As we stood at his front door, the energy I felt from dancing earlier made me reach out and take his jaw in my hand so I could kiss those smiling lips. Tasting the sweetness of my Cuba Libre, his tongue swirled around mine, leaving them entwined in their own series of salsa movements.
Once inside his apartment, we moved to his lounge where his camera stood on its tripod. Flicking the switch on, he scrolled through his memory card displaying the images he’d taken on his projector screen. “Still want to pose for me?” Stefan eagerly asked. Playfully, I teased him; “do you want me in Sexy Salsa pose or a Cheeky Charleston?” as I transitioned from a mambo step with lots of exaggerated hip swaying to a Kick the Dog, basic Charleston move.
“I’m loving your mambo hip action, so carry on with that, please!” Stefan urged. “Ok, I’ll dance for you, as a sexy Senorita,” I gleefully declared, taking a cha-cha step towards the camera, before pausing to take off my dress. Stefan looked surprised that I was disrobing, but as he saw the lacy plum bra and panties I was wearing underneath, his open mouth widened into a grin. “That’s it! Now show me some passion”, he encouraged with a wink, whilst I pouted and sashayed around.
Clicking his shutter button, Stefan must have captured a few dozen shots. He showed me them, and we stole another sweet lingering kiss before I put my dress back on. As he walked me to my bus stop, Stefan tentatively enquired, “would you want to come around to mine next Tuesday after class? I can cook us some fajitas and then show you my edits to your pictures…” I happily squeezed his hand and exclaimed, “That would be amazing! I’m already looking forward to it!”
Taking a seat on the bus, I scrolled through the music collection on my phone. I selected Senorita by Justin Timberlake, with a secret smile. Just then, an image pinged on my screen; it was of me in my plum lingerie, with my head flicking to the side. The caption underneath read, “something to get you through to next Tuesday” 😉
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Featured image is taken courtesy of Bailaqui, from Flickr.