Theme is black and white. The place was so crowded, the theme soon turned to black and blue with every spin turn becoming a crash collision with a couple nearby.
I had a blast, though. I was so popular! It's nice to be in demand.
Normally, when the lesson is over and the club starts, us girlies (who
outnumber the men by about 2:1) stand watching, waiting for someone to
ask us to dance since there just aren't enough men to go round.
However, I think I missed only about 4 tracks the whole
evening. That's four and a half hours of solid salsa dancing with only
four brief breaks. I'm practically an athlete!
Most guys ask you to dance by just extending a hand to
you, but one chap (about halfway through the evening) came up to
me and said "I heard you're a very good dancer. Can we dance?" (Blimey! I'm not, but flattery will get you anywhere)
and he was really good!! he wouldn't put me down; we danced
four tracks in a row and by the end of that spin-athon, I was
practically wearing my halterneck top backwards
(ahem). Big sis said I looked like I'd just been round
the back of the bikeshed. It didn't help that I had burned my neck on
the curlers getting ready and so looked like I had one helluva hickey!
I had plenty of dances (all of them excellent - I must
be getting the pick of the crop) and my confidence is
soaring. Big sis meanwhile (who is a bit overwhelmed by
the fancy salsa stuff so can be found hiding at the bar) is being
chatted up uh-GENN and has a date lined up for the following night
(popular lass, my sis!).
I knew my old salsa teachers would be there so I was keen to show
off my sis to them. She danced with him, felt like the greatest dancer
in the world (as you do when dancing with him, cos he's a good positive
lead who can make you do any move seemingly effortlessly) and now she
is hooked.
I danced with him, too but I'd forgotten how much he liked to
include shimmies. I can do most things but shimmy I cannot. I
start off well, but somehow I lose all coordination and it all turns
into randomised jerkiness. I look more like I'm having an epileptic fit
than a dancemove.
A few songs later and the Flatterer asks me to dance again. He's
quite a shy little chappie and very sweet so it might have made (or
ruined) his evening when two thirds through a dance I'm doing a spin
turn and as I come back round, his hand, rather than meeting my hand as
it should, landed square on my left boob. The man's face turned to
sheer terror as he shrieked, his hand recoiled in horror and
TURNED TAIL AND RAN AWAY, his hands waving in the air. I had to chase
him to get him to finish to the end of the song. He didn't ask me to
dance again after that. Too embarrassed, I think.
