The last group class at “The Cumberland Academy of Dance” ended at eight that Wednesday night, and I was glad. The group classes brought in a lot of my income, but they were sometimes frustrating, like this one had been. I’d advertised the class as a beginner class in ballroom dance, and promised anyone who could walk could learn to foxtrot, cha-cha, and waltz in three months of weekly lessons.
My promise of being able to teach anybody to dance was a bit of a stretch. I could teach the steps of a dance and some patterns to anybody. If they could hear the beat of the music and were reasonably coordinated, they could dance well enough to impress their friends at the office Christmas party or a friend’s wedding. What I can’t teach is an ear for music and the ability to dance the dance to the music in a graceful way. There would always be some that just could not grasp that concept.
Because of that, it took a little more thought to decide how much to charge per class. The bigger dance studios charged fifteen hundred in advance for fifteen weekly lessons, and there were no refunds for missed classes no matter what the reason. I didn’t think that was smart marketing, because few people wanted to invest that kind of money before they knew if they enjoyed dancing. In truth, that was the point. No studio owner wanted to spend an hour of his time teaching the last two people left in a “pay as you go” class after the others gave up. Making them pay in advance guaranteed the studio owner’s income.
There would always be those who gave up after a few lessons, but if they only had a few dollars invested, they wouldn’t be upset. They might even tell their friends to try. The people who dropped out of the big studio’s program were not happy, and they relayed this to their friends as well.
I finally settled on fifteen dollars per person or twenty for a couple, and my ad stated it wasn’t necessary to have a partner. The people in the class would change partners from time to time, so the unescorted women I expected in the class would always get to dance. Once they seemed to have the steps down fairly well, I’d stop teaching and dance with all the women as well. It seemed that unescorted, though not necessarily single women liked the idea of dancing, and they enrolled in classes to learn. Sometimes, I thought they enrolled just to have some way to be with other people. I was sure a couple of the women were in the class just because they liked being with men.
This class had a couple of what I called “rhythm impaired” men with their wives. Their wives did fine, following my lead when I danced with them, and for the most part, doing so gracefully. The men…I frowned as the last couple walked out the door. It was obvious several of the men were only there because their wives had somehow badgered or shamed them into it. I’d tried everything – clapping my hands to the beat and calling out the foxtrot steps of “slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, slow, quick, quick”, filtering out everything except the beat on some familiar songs – every thing I could think of, but I couldn’t fix the lack of will to try.
Their wives and the other women in the class tried to help them as well, but I figured this would be the last class for two of my couples. I’d heard the same chuckled excuses from the husbands before.
“I do my best dancing in bed.”
“Marion can come back if she wants, but I’m missing the game every night I’m here. Think I’ll stay home next week and let her show me what she learned when she gets home. After she does that, I’ll show her a couple of my moves, if you catch my drift.”
It was some comfort to see the same men’s wives smile when it was their turn to dance with me. Few were really good dancers, yet, but they were adept enough to feel my lead and follow. The result was exhilarating for them, or so it seemed. I enjoyed dancing with them all, and three, two blondes about thirty and one redhead a little older, were becoming excellent dancers.
I turned off the laptop that plays my music and the amp for the sound system, and was turning off the lights when she walked through the studio door. She stopped in the middle of the dance floor, looked around, and then smiled at me.
“I know I’m pretty late, but is this the place Judy told me about – the place where I could learn to dance?”
She wasn’t young, probably about sixty or so, I figured. I didn’t miss the fact that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“Yes, this is the place, but I’m closing up for the night.”
“Oh, I didn’t think we’d do it tonight. I just thought I’d come by when nobody else was here. I’ve been waiting outside for the class to leave.”
“You didn’t have to wait. You could have come in and joined the group class. It doesn’t cost much, and you could see if you like dancing or not.”
“No, I’ve never done anything like this before. I’d be too embarrassed to be with other people. My husband always says…said…I was about as coordinated as a cow on crutches.”
“Well, most people can learn how to dance enough to have some fun, and you shouldn’t be embarrassed. Most of the people in that class aren’t going to become great dancers either.”
“I’d still like to do it by myself, for a while anyway. When can we start?”
I have a standard contract I use when I enroll students. My lawyer said it was just good insurance. People have been known to sue a dance studio when they injure themselves trying something beyond their capabilities. I don’t particularly like using it, but then, I can’t afford to be sued either. It does tell me quite a bit about a potential student, because I added a few questions to help me decide how best to teach them.
Her name was Madeline Connors, and she was sixty-two. My form doesn’t ask why a person has a particular marital status, but Madeline had sort of frowned when she checked the “single” box, and explained her ex-husband had decided she was a little old for his taste.
“The girl was all of thirty, and she ran every day so everything was tight, not like I am. I guess I should have started running too.”
Her next of kin was her daughter, Judy.
“Judy’s about all I have left to show for twenty years with Rick. She was pretty torn up when I divorced him, but she’s getting over it now. I’m going to be a grandma in another six months. I guess I am getting old if I’m going to be a grandma.”
Well, she didn’t look like my grandma at all. Madeline was wearing a dress that night, just a simple dress that didn’t fit all that tight or reveal much skin, but it was pretty obvious she had some sensuous curves. She was also pretty in the face, and the long, dark brown hair that fell in waves over her shoulders framed that face into a portrait of a very enticing woman. I chuckled, partly to make her feel better, and partly because it was what I really thought.
“If all grandmas looked like you, there would be a whole bunch of really happy grandpas around.”
“I wouldn’t think a young guy like you would notice, not that I mind.”
“I’m not all that young. I’m forty-one, and any man would notice.”
“Well, thank you for telling me what you think I want to hear, but I know I’m not all that sexy, and you don’t need to keep schmoozing me like that. Just teach me to dance.”
She didn’t blink when I told her a private lesson was a hundred for an hour. She just asked if I took credit cards or if I wanted cash or a check. After I explained I preferred a credit card or cash, we settled on nine that Friday for her first lesson. My last group class ended at eight, and she liked the idea of getting there and being by herself.
I didn’t think much about her over the next two days. I had evening classes on Thursday that ran from six until nine, and on Friday from six until eight. In the mornings, I put together the steps or patterns I was going to teach the groups. On Thursday afternoon, I had a private lesson with a young couple who wanted to learn the waltz for their wedding reception. Before I knew it, it was Friday at eight and I was saying goodbye to my last group class of the week.
Madeline walked into the studio at ten ‘til nine. She was a different Madeline than the woman I’d met on Wednesday.
On Wednesday night, Madeline had seemed about like any other woman in my classes. Perhaps she was a bit more shy around other people than some, but she wasn’t shy with me. She seemed confident in her decision to learn to dance and wasn’t shy about telling me she thought I was just being a good salesman when I commented on her looks.
That night, she was nervous, but I didn’t notice that at first. What I noticed was how she was dressed. Madeline noticed me noticing and grinned.
“I saw the girls on that dancing show on TV wearing dresses like this, so I went out and got one. I hope it’s all right. I bought some dance shoes too.”
It wasn’t really a dress for a woman who is just learning, but it was fine with me. The top of the metallic blue dress dipped in a narrow “V” low enough the curve of her breasts showed. I figured the bra had to be built-in, because nothing showed and it would have had she been wearing one. The hem hit her at about the middle of a very nice pair of thighs. Those thighs and the rest of her legs were clad in nylon that shone in the lights of the studio. Teaching her was going to be a struggle between the thoughts running through my mind and helping her learn.
While she changed from her street shoes to the medium height dance heels, I found a slow rumba song on the laptop that serves as my music system, and started it. I intended to start Madeline with the rumba. The expectations of a dance judge for rumba dancers is pretty high regarding motion, but it’s one of the easier dances to learn.
Madeline was a little stiff when she walked out to join me on the floor. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way she walked; it was just that her hips weren’t very fluid in their movement. It seemed as if she was consciously keeping them from moving much. I’d seen that before, and one woman told me it was because her mother said only prostitutes let their hips sway. I could fix that, I thought, but first she had to learn the dance.
Rumba is pretty simple. The man’s part is just one step forward followed by one step to the side and another to close the feet. Then, it’s one step back, followed by one step to the side and another to close. The woman’s part is the exact opposite. If everything goes to plan, the couple ends up right back where they started. I set up the laptop to repeat. That would let the song continue to play in the background as I walked Madeline through her steps.
“OK, Madeline, our first dance will be the rumba. You take one step back with your right foot, then one to the side with your left, and then bring your right foot up beside your left. Let’s try.”
She did fine with the first step. Everything after that was a mess of her trying to move without shifting her weight to the stationary foot. Instead of just three steps, she took about eight.
“Uh…I don’t think you’re changing your weight like you should. Let’s try this again. Step back with your right foot…that’s right. Now, shift your weight to that foot…no, don’t move the other one, just move your body so you have your weight on the right…that’s better. Take one step to the left and back even with your right foot…good…now, shift your weight again, then close your feet.”
She closed her feet. Unfortunately, she brought her left foot up to her right instead of the other way around.
“No, Madeline, you close with your right foot, not your left.”
“I think Ricky was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried this.”
“Nah, you’re just doing something you’ve never done before. Let’s keep practicing.”
After five minutes, Madeline had the steps down. She wasn’t in time with the rhythm of the music, but she was shifting her weight with each step.
“That’s good, Madeline. See, I told you you’d get it. Now let’s work on the rhythm of the dance. Listen to the music…what do you hear?”
Madeline stood there for a minute while the song played on. Then she smiled.
“It’s a pretty song.”
“Yes, but listen to the bass part. It goes dummmm – dum - dum- dummmm – dum – dum…hear it?”
Madeline sighed again.
“No, all I hear is music. The only dumb thing is me, I guess.”
This was getting a little exasperating. First, she didn’t think she could do the steps and now, she didn’t think she was smart enough. I couldn’t just let her leave, though. I needed the class fees I hoped she’d continue paying me, and I hate to see someone give up before they’ve even started.
“Give me your hand, and listen again. I’ll tap your palm to the rhythm of the music.”
Her hand was shaking a little when I took it in mine. I started gently tapping her palm to the bass rhythm. Madeline’s face was one of concentration for half a minute or so, and then she grinned.
“I think I hear it.”
“Then you tap my hand to what you hear.”
Madeline tapped away at my palm for a few seconds, and each tap was right on the beat of the song.
“That’s right, Madeline. That wasn’t hard, was it?”
I wasn’t prepared for Madeline to put her arms around me and give me a hug.
“Oh, thank you so much. I didn’t think I could do it, but you showed me I could.”
I eased her gently away.
“I knew you could. Now, let’s dance.”
After showing Madeline her position in a dancer’s frame, I took her right hand in my left and put my right hand on her left shoulder blade.
“This is called “frame”, and it’s how I tell you what I want you to do when we’re dancing. Your job is to maintain the pressure you feel on your shoulder blade right now.”
I stepped forward, and Madeline didn’t move. The result was her breasts flattened out against my chest. .
“Madeline, you have to move back when I move forward. Let’s try that again. I’ll step forward with my left foot and you step back with your right, just like before.”
This time, Madeline followed me. She didn’t step back enough, but she did step back.
I went through the whole six steps with Madeline several times before she caught on, but when she did, she grinned.
“This is nice. I didn’t think I could do it, but I can. That makes me feel pretty good.”
The last fifteen minutes of the hour-long class we just danced the basic step. Halfway through, I changed from the beginner’s box steps to dancing Madeline in a circle. She fumbled the first time, but then stayed with me as we moved around the floor. At a little after ten, I stepped back and smiled.
“Now, that was nice, Madeline. You followed my lead very well. I think there’s a dancer in you just waiting to come out.”
She blushed, but she smiled back and hugged me again..
“I don’t know about that, but I had fun. Same time, next week?”
“I’ll be here.”
And so went the next three lessons I gave Madeline in rumba. The first pattern I taught her was a simple under-arm turn. She sighed and said she didn’t think she’d ever learn how to do it. Half an hour later, she was turning like she’d done it all her life. It was the same way with patterns. She’d fumble for a bit, and then her face would beam when she danced through the pattern the first time.
The fourth week, she came in at a quarter ‘til nine with her laptop.
“I looked up rumba on the internet and found this. The man is doing what you do, but I don’t do what the woman does. Here, look.”
The couple dancing were professionals competing at Blackpool, and they were great. I could see what Madeline meant. The woman was doing the same steps I’d taught Madeline, but she looked sultry and sensuous doing them. It was her hips.
“You mean how her hips move?”
“Yes. Mine don’t do that, do they?”
“Well, a little, just not this much. It’s called “Cuban motion”.
“Can you teach me to do that? It looks sexy.”
I walked Madeline through the complexity of placing one foot, then weighting it and moving that hip over the foot at the same time. The result is both hips twist at the waist and make the dance erotic. She tried, and her hips swayed from side to side. It was more than a little arousing, but it wasn’t correct.
“Madeline, it’s just because of the way women are built it looks like they’re pushing out their hips. The movement is all in your waist.”
“I don’t understand, but maybe I won’t ever be able to. I’m not young like this girl.”
“Can I touch you?”
“You’ve been touching me for three weeks. Why would I mind now?”
“Well, I’m going to show you how to look like the girl in your video, and to do that, I have to touch your hips…just at the top.”
“I think you’re probably wasting your time, but go ahead.”
I put my hands low enough on Madeline’s waist that I could feel her hip bones with my palms..
“OK, now, do your first step, but don’t weight that foot.”
Madeline stepped back.
“Yes, now, transfer your weight slowly.”
As Madeline let her weight settle into her right foot, I rolled her right hip back while holding her left hip in place.
“Now, the other foot, the same way.”
This time, I held Madeline’s right hip in place and moved the left back.
“Feel how your torso twists? That’s Cuban motion. You are moving your hips, but that’s all you’re moving. Your upper body stays straight. Try it by yourself.”
I had to help Madeline a couple more times, but by the end of the class, she had the basics of Cuban motion down pretty well. She wasn’t moving enough, not yet, but her hips were doing what they were supposed to do.
As she was changing shoes, I asked if she had a full length mirror at home.
“Yes, I do. Why?”
“Practice what we just did in front of your mirror. You’ll see what makes it work better than you can here, and once you see it, you’ll only get better and better.”
Over the next few months, I taught Madeline the basics of waltz, foxtrot, and tango. Every class was the same. She didn’t believe she could do it, but did it anyway, and was always pleased with what she’d done. Although she seemed to not have much confidence in her abilities, I noticed a few changes in what she said.
On her first lesson, she’d basically said she wasn’t coordinated enough and that she wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. As the months went by, her attitude changed to “I didn’t see that. Can you do it again?” and “I’ll have to do this at home, I guess, so I’ll know it next week.”
I was pleased, both because Madeline was learning to dance and doing well, and also because she seemed to be gaining confidence in what she could do. After she’d been through a month of Tango lessons, I thought she might like to do some real dancing.
One of the things I’d started as soon as I had the first group class was a Saturday night dance. There aren’t many places, even in bigger cities, where people can go to dance ballroom dances. I had a studio, and I had time, so every Saturday night, I opened the studio to all my students. While they danced, I played a selection of music that was designed to give everybody, no matter what their skill level, the opportunity to dance with any of the other students.
I also made the rounds of all the women so they all got to dance with me. It seems a bit like I’m boasting about that, but they seemed to enjoy it, and it kept them coming back for more lessons.
To encourage the unescorted women, I’d have at least one mixer during the night where only the basic steps were required, and at least one “ladies choice” every hour from seven until ten. The five dollar cover charge paid for the sodas I kept on ice and some snacks on the table beside the sound system. I usually had about twenty couples on those nights.
The open dances did a couple things. From my perspective, it kept my dancers interested in learning more, so I made more money from lessons. Dancing with other people also helped my dancers get better. It’s easy to feel the subtle body movements of a full-time partner, but both partners must pay attention when dancing with someone new. The man’s lead is different as is his timing and the woman needs to figure out how to feel both. The woman’s response time is also different, so the lead has to learn how to read that and accommodate her.
As she was putting her jacket on over another short and revealing dance dress, I asked Madeline if she’d want to come to the Saturday night dance. She blushed.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not nearly good enough.”
I had to chuckle.
“Madeline, you should get here earlier so you’d know how good you really are. I wouldn’t want it known that I ever said this, but most of the women in my classes aren’t all that great. The men would love dancing with you.”
“Would I get to dance with you, too?”
“Yes. I dance with all the women who come.”
“I’ll think about it.”
That Saturday night, about eight, Madeline walked through the door of my studio. She was dressed a little more conservatively than when she came for her lessons, but not by much. Her black dress was simple in design and the hem came down to just above her knee. The neckline was quite a bit more conservative, but the fit of the dress made up for both. The sway of her hips she’d learned in rumba class had evidently carried over into her normal way of walking. As she walked to the soft drink table she turned the heads of every man who was looking, and most of them were.
When I went to check on the music I’d programmed into my laptop, she walked up beside me.
“Do I look that bad?”
“Why would you even ask me that. You look great”
“Well, all the people were staring at me when I came in.”
“Well, Madeline, I know why the men were staring. You’re …really enticing. The women…I suppose that dress and the way you wear it seem to be a little threatening. They’re worried about their boyfriends and husbands.”
“If I’d known I was going to do that, I’d have worn sweatpants and a sweatshirt.”
“Don’t worry. Just go mingle. They’re a good bunch of people. Once they get to know you, they’ll warm up.”
I got to dance with Madeline just once – the first rumba. After that, she had a line of men waiting at her table after each dance. She seemed to be getting along with the other women as well, though the married women took a little while to introduce themselves.
Before I knew it, it was ten, and I announced the last dance, a waltz. As the final strains of “Tammy” played out, the couples parted and gathered their things. I heard laughing and compliments as they filed out the door. I turned to start cleaning up and almost ran into Madeline. She smiled her beautiful smile.
“I thought you could use some help cleaning up.”
“Madeline, that’s really not necessary. All I do is shut off the sound system and put the sodas in the fridge in back.”
She smiled again.
“Tom, you’ve done so much for me over the past few months. Please let me help.”
I let Madeline gather up the unopened sodas and snacks, and then helped her carry them to my office in back of the studio. I spend most of my day in the studio, so I’d made it sort of a home away from home. I have my desk there, as well as a couch, microwave, small refrigerator, and a TV. After we put away the sodas and food, Madeline looked around my office and then grinned at me.
“Is this where you seduce your female students? Looks like it could be.”
“No, I’ve never seduced one of my female students.”
Madeline looked at me and frowned.
“Rick always said men who dance are gay. Are you gay? You don’t seem gay.”
“No, I’m not gay. I just don’t think seducing my students is good business practice. That usually leads to problems.”
“From what a couple of the women at the dance told me, you wouldn’t have any problems with them. They’d love it.”
“They just like me because I can dance and I dance with them. If I was to take things further, they’d eventually want something more. I’m not into breaking up marriages, and even if they weren’t married, I’m not ready for something permanent yet.”
Madeline put her hand on my arm.
“You’re divorced too? I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known.”
“No, I’m not divorced. It never got that far. I…I thought we were doing fine and was planning to ask her to marry me, but she apparently didn’t feel the same way.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten years in August.”
“No other girlfriends in ten years?”
“A few, but they just weren’t right. We didn’t have that something I had before, if you can understand that.”
Madeline stroked my arm.
“I do understand. It’s like you’ve found everything you ever wanted and then it all disappears one day. Judy kept telling me it wasn’t me and it wasn’t him and that we just grew apart. I guess she’s right about that, now that I’ve had time to think about it, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Make what easier?”
“Finding another man.”
“I wouldn’t think you’d have any trouble finding a guy. It’s more like you’d have to fight them off.”
“My mirror doesn’t think so. Well, I better be getting home. I have to call Judy after every class and dance so she knows I got home safe. Honestly, it’s like she’s trying to be my mother.”
The next week, Madeline brought her laptop to class again.
“I was looking at dances on the internet and found this one. I want to learn this one next. It looks really sexy.”
I had to smile when she tapped her touchpad. The dance was “Argentine Tango”, and Madeline was exactly right. Ballroom tango is known as the dance of love. Argentine Tango isn’t love. Argentine Tango, if done right, is raw, unbridled sexual passion between a man and a woman. The body contact is tight, the woman’s steps sensuous and sultry, and the man’s steps the steps of a man confident and very much in control.
I looked at Madeline.
“This isn’t an easy dance to learn, Madeline. The man’s lead is pretty subtle sometimes, and a lot of time, he just leads the woman to a position and she does what she wants.”
“I still want to learn it. Will you teach me?”
We began the lessons that night, and as usual, Madeline was hesitant at first. Once she understood how the dance works with the music, she did better. Once I taught her a pattern she could do by herself, she was ecstatic.
“I feel so good when we dance this. It’s like I’m young and desirable again because you’re making me do all these things that a young woman would want to do with her man.”
“In Argentina, it’s not just young people who dance this. The best dancers are all older. The women have full figures and can be very erotic. The men have enough experience to lead without looking like they’re leading much. The younger dancers are sexy, but they’re not very smooth. The older dancers are romantic, smooth, and erotic all at the same time.”
“So, I could look like the woman in that video?”
“No, you’d probably look better. You have a better figure.”
“Then, show me some more.”
I had been thinking about introducing Argentine Tango to my other students, but to get the full effect, I needed a dance partner who could at least look like she knew the dance. After two months, Madeline was that woman, though she was pretty reluctant.
“All the men will be watching me and the women too.”
“Yes, they will, and all they’re going to see is a very sensuous, very sexy woman doing a very sensuous, very sexy dance.”
“I don’t know. What should I wear?”
“Whatever you want. A dress would be nice, but pants will work just as well.”
That Saturday, Madeline came to the dance in jeans and a sweatshirt and carrying a small bag. I admit it was a little disappointing, but I had told her anything she wanted to wear would be fine. She walked up to me, stood on her toes, and whispered in my ear.
“I need to use your office to change my clothes. I couldn’t very well wear my dress out on the street.”
She came out of my office fifteen minutes later, and all the conversation in the room stopped. It stopped because of her dress and what that dress did to Madeline’s body.
It was black and fit like it was painted on. The neckline scooped deep enough to show the twin mounds of her breasts, so I knew there had to be a bra of some sort under there, but it didn’t show. The hemline was at almost her mid thigh, and the slit up the side went high enough I had to wonder if she was wearing panties. She'd topped that off with black stockings, and when she pushed one leg through the slit in the dress, I saw the black lace top and some very luscious tanned thigh. Her tall, black strappy heels just put an exclamation point to everything else.
Madeline looked a little nervous when she walked up to me.
“Is this all right? It’s as close as I could get to what I saw the dancers wearing on the internet.”
“Madeline, you have every man in the place drooling. It’s not just all right…it’s fantastic, and so are you.”
She blushed then.
“If I can dance this right, I might start to believe that.”
Midway though the night, and after watching the men in the class clamber all over themselves to dance with Madeline, I paused the music.
“Class, tonight, with Madeline’s help, I’m going to show you what I’m thinking of offering for the next round of classes. It’s a dance called Argentine Tango, but once you see it, I think you’ll agree it’s a lot different from the tango we’ve already learned. If you like it, I’ll put it on the schedule.”
The music I’d chosen wasn’t old style Argentine Tango music, though Madeline had danced to that type of music before. This song was “Leonora’s Love Theme” by Astor Piazzolla, and began with the slow, soft tones Madeline and I were playing with on with the dance floor.
The first part of the song was the bandoneon, saxaphone, violin and guitar playing the sounds of seduction between both partners. As I led Madeline through a series of patterns that brought her close to me only then to back away, then tempt me with the subtle sway of her hips and the thrusting of her breasts.
As the middle of the song approached, she followed the lead that kept her close to me, that rocked her back in my arms in a deep dip where she raised her leg through the slit in her dress, and then into her arms around my neck. Her body pressed into mine as I pulled her, feet dragging, across the dance floor as if she had yielded to my seduction and I was taking her as a man takes a woman, with the gentle force she desired and the complete submission to her man.
After that section, the music began to crescendo in faster and louder music until our steps became the steps of a couple moving together with ever increasing speed and reaching the peak of pleasure together. At the end, the music slowed again to the sensuous tones of the bandoneon and violin. Madeline and I ended the dance with her arms around my neck, her face pressed into my chest, and her stocking clad leg raised and on my thigh.
At first, there wasn’t a sound in the studio except Madeline’s soft breath against my neck. Then, there was a clap, then another, and then the room erupted in applause.
“Madeline, they’re standing up. Turn around and take a bow. They think you were great and you were.”
Just as on most of the dance nights, I didn’t get to dance with Madeline again, nor did I even have a chance to talk with her. She was too busy dancing with the other men in the class or talking to the women. When the dance ended, she stayed like she always did, to help me clean up. I asked if she’d had fun.
“Oh, yes, lots. I think my feet are going to fall off from dancing so much. I love these shoes, but they started to make my feet hurt an hour ago.”
“You can take them off if you want.”
“No, as bad as they feel, I feel sexy wearing them, so I’ll leave them on. The women wanted to know where I found them and the dress. They want to look like this when they dance Argentine tango.”
“Well, you are pretty much a knockout. You danced really well, too. I was proud of you.”
“Really? I just did what we practiced.”
“Madeline, it isn’t practice that made you dance well tonight. It was you and how you felt the music. All great dancers practice for hours and hours, but it’s feeling the music that makes them great.”
“That song is just so…when I hear it, it reminds me of making love - slow at first, then getting faster, and then the big climax. It got slow again, after that, just like when you sort of coast down afterwards, you know?”
“Yeah, I remember it being like that. I’m happy that’s what you heard. It showed.”
“I felt it too. I haven’t…it’s been a very long time since I felt that way. It was good to feel a little like that again. You did that to me, you know.”
“When I was married, Ricky kept putting me down all the time. I couldn’t do this and I couldn’t do that. It didn’t stop him from doing anything in bed, but he didn’t think I could do that very well either. You taught me to dance, but you taught me I can do things and do them right all by myself. You gave me confidence in myself…enough confidence to do this.”
Madeline put her arms around my neck, raised up on her tip-toes, and kissed me. I’d not been kissed by a woman in a long time, and I’d never been kissed like that. I could not have resisted responding if my life had depended on it.
Her lips were so soft and searching, and when she opened them and stroked my upper lip with her tongue, I pulled her into my arms. Madeline sighed then, the tiny breath flowing into my throat, and pulled gently away.
“I really needed to do that, Tom. I’m sorry if you didn’t like it.”
“How could I not like it?”
“I don’t know. I just really like you and I thought you wouldn’t mind if I showed you.”
“Madeline, I didn’t mind at all. It’s just that usually these teacher – student things don’t work out very well.”
“The way you looked at me tonight, in my dress, I just thought…:
Madeline frowned and pulled herself out of my embrace.
“I guess I thought wrong, like I always do.”
I put my hands on Madeline’s soft shoulders.
“Madeline, you didn’t do anything wrong, and as for what I think of you, I like you a lot more than I should. If I thought there was any chance for this to work out, I wouldn’t be reluctant.”
Madeline stroked my face and smiled.
“Tonight, the men and women both thought I was sexy. I didn’t think I’d ever hear that again, but I did, and it made me think about doing this. I don’t want anything permanent, Tom. I just need to be loved sometimes, like now. It doesn’t have to be anything more unless someday you’d like it to be. Right now, I don’t care. I just want to feel a man doing with me what we played like we were doing on the dance floor. If you don’t want to, just tell me without trying to make any more excuses. I’ll understand that you don’t want me.”
When I gathered her in my arms tight and kissed her, it wasn’t a dance teacher kissing his student. It was a man and woman with feelings both couldn’t ignore, nor did they want to.
As Madeline melted into my embrace, I slipped my hand down to cup her bottom. She pushed her tummy into me when I cupped the soft cheek and squeezed gently. Her hand found the back of my neck and stroked as her mouth made love to mine.
After a few seconds of pure erotic arousal, I let Madeline ease from my embrace, took her by the hand, and led her to my office. Once inside, Madeline pressed her body against me and smiled.
“Tom, are you sure you want to do this?”
I didn’t answer her. I just held her with one arm while the other hand found the zipper on the back of her dress and pulled it down. As the material fell away from her back, I felt soft skin beneath my fingertips. After slipping my hand up to the shoulder strap on the dress, I started pulling it down over Madeline’s arm. She whispered in my ear..
“It has to come off over my head. My hips are too wide for the other way.”
She bent down, lifted the hem, and started pulling it up over her body. When my hands caught hers, she released the hem, backed up a little, and raised her arms over her head.
I lifted the dress slowly, selfishly pleasing myself as Madeline’s curves were revealed. Her soft thighs, cased in black nylon, soon gave way to pale, soft, velvety skin. A moment later, I saw the black thong panty, then her tummy. As I pulled the dress up further, her breasts slipped from the built-in bra and fell softly to her chest. Her nipples were a wonderful dark pink and large. As the chill air of the office caressed the thick nubs, they stiffened and grew a little longer.
One more gentle lift was all that was required to remove the dress. I draped it over my office chair and then turned back to Madeline. She had covered her breasts with her arm, and her voice was quiet with a tone of worry.
“I’m not as firm as the young girls in your classes. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
Gently, I pulled Madeline’s arm from her breasts and to her side.
“Madeline, you’re more beautiful than all those young girls.”
When I lifted both her breasts with my hands and squeezed gently, Madeline sighed.
“I was so worried. Ricky always said they were saggy. I guess you like them, though.”
I let the thumb of each hand stroke her nipples.
“Like isn’t nearly a strong enough word for what I’m feeling, Madeline.”
She smiled then, and started to unbutton my shirt. As soon as she could pull it open, she pressed her soft breasts into my chest. Her voice was a purr.
“It feels so good to feel a man’s chest again. I’ve dreamed about this for weeks.”
She backed away a little when I hooked my thumbs in the thin waist band of her panties. I knelt down in front of her as I worked them over her full, rounded hips, and then down over her thighs. The tangles of dark brown hair on her mound and lips were erotic, almost as erotic as the scent that wafted to my nose.
I kicked off my shoes when I stood back up, then unbuckled my belt, and took off my slacks. Madeline looked on, smiling, when I pulled my shorts down, and when my erect cock bobbed free, she gently wrapped her slender fingers around the shaft. She was still holding my cock when I pulled her back into my arms and felt her nipples against my chest.
I kissed her again, for a moment, and then eased her gently down on my couch. When my lips found her right nipple, Madeline moaned.
“Take me now, Tom.”
I pinched that nipple between my lips, sucked in hard, and lifted my face. Madeline caught her breath when I let her nipple slip from my lips. I ran my tongue over the dimpled tip, then fastened them on her left nipple. As I worked that nipple with my lips and tongue, I ran my hand down over her soft tummy until I felt the soft, crinkled hair that guarded Madeline’s sex.
“No, not yet. I want to remember this for a long time.”
Working slowly, I separated the tangled strands with my fingertips until they were parted over her lips, and then traced the length of those lips with my index finger. Madeline moaned again, and then caught her breath when that finger slipped between them. As I moved my finger up and down the satin-smooth separation, Madeline spread her thighs wide.
When my finger slipped inside her, Madeline rocked her hips. While I stroked my finger in and out slowly, I nibbled my way back up her body, and then kissed her. She opened her lips and I felt her tongue pushing against mine. I opened my lips as well, and when our tongues touched, Madeline moaned quietly.
“Tom, I need you to take me like a man takes a woman, like in the dance. I need to feel you inside me and feel you on top of me. I need so much to feel that again.”
Madeline didn’t give me a chance to say anything. She just spread her thighs wide, pulled me between them, put one arm around my back and felt between us for my cock with the other hand.
When my cock head found her entrance, Madeline sighed. When I pushed inside her slowly, she moaned and put the other arm around me.
I didn’t want to hurry her, so I took it slow and enjoyed everything about her. I loved the feel of her breasts against my chest. I loved the feel of her arms around my back. I loved feeling her breath on my shoulder. I loved the snug, wet, slippery warmth of her passage and the soft caress of her inner lips around my shaft.
It had been so long for me that I’d forgotten how I could get lost in a woman’s body. Time slipped away as I savored the velvet embrace of her body and the satin feeling of her inner thighs against my waist.
Madeline was climbing the slope to an orgasm. Her breathing became a little faster and a bit more shallow, and her body began to respond to my strokes with little rocks of her hips. Occasionally, I’d feel her fingertips tighten on my back as a little wave of the pending eruption made her body tense. That tightening became more frequent and she began to push back into my strokes in earnest. My slow, regular strokes became faster, then faster and deeper, until I pressed hard into her soft sex with the base of my cock. I bent my head enough to reach her nipples, and found each one swollen stiff and standing proud from her soft breasts. A few soft licks brought a moan from Madeline’s throat. When I pinched one between my lips, her body lurched and she gasped.
“Oh God, Tom. Don’t stop.”
It seemed as if only moments slipped past before I felt Madeline’s nails dig into my back and heard her gasp again. I also felt more wet warmth coating my stroking cock. I pushed deep inside her, and pinched her nipple again. Madeline cried out and the tension in her body lifted her off the couch a little. Her nails dug into my back again as her body arched against me.
Another cry came with the tightening and relaxing of her velvet passage around my cock. Madeline sank back to the couch, then gasped as her body began to arch high and shake at the same time. It was only because she clamped her thighs around my waist I was able to keep my cock bedded inside her. As she shook out the orgasm, my own took me away from everything except the surge of seed through my cock into Madeline’s clasping depths.
She pulled me down on top of her then, holding me tight and keeping my cock buried inside her. We were silent except for the quiet sounds of breathing until my cock slipped from her body. I started to raise up, but Madeline pulled me back down.
“Stay here, like this, for a while longer. Before, I needed to remember. Now, I don’t want to forget again.”
Madeline left about midnight. I was sorry to see her go, but happy for what we’d had together. The feelings I’d had with Jeanine had come back to me. I was old enough to know not to trust those feelings. The mind is easily deluded by the attraction of the opposite sex, and especially so if one has found the thrill before and then lost it. I consoled myself with the knowledge that I had given Madeline pleasure equal to what she had given me.
I was both looking forward and anxiously waiting for Madeline's next lesson, but after she left that night, I hadn't heard anything from her. It wasn't like I expected a phone call thanking me for having sex with her. I knew better than that. Madeline giving herself to me was something special that I’d just have to keep in my memory.
I kept telling myself it was probably a one-time thing. Madeline was just aroused by the dance and it had been a long time for her. I happened to be handy and agreeable. It wasn't likely she'd keep taking lessons from me now, not after what we'd done.
I wasn't really surprised when she didn't show up for her lesson that week. I'd sort of talked myself into the fact that I'd probably never see her again. I sat on the stool by the sound system and waited, hoping I was wrong and that she'd just gotten tied up in traffic, or had a cold or something. In my heart, I knew it was neither. She'd have called if she was going to be late or if she was ill. No, she wasn't coming back.
At nine-fifteen, I was cursing Madeline for seducing me into fucking her. At nine-thirty, I was cursing myself for taking advantage of a student like I had. At a quarter to ten, I shut off the laptop and amps, turned off the lights and went home.
After a week, I'd sort of resigned myself to never seeing Madeline again. It didn't help much, but at least I stopped thinking about her during my other classes. I only thought about her after the Saturday dance when I forgot and looked to see if she'd stayed to help clean up. By the time Madeline had missed a month of classes, I didn't think about her after the dances either.
I'd just finished my last group class on Wednesday, and after watching the last couple leave, shut down the sound system and started turning off the lights. I had my back to the door when I heard her voice.
“Excuse me. Is this the place where I could learn to dance?”
I turned to look, sure the voice was just some vestige of memory my mind had retrieved and played back in my head, but there she was. Madeline was smiling, but it was a nervous smile, like she was forcing it.
“Madeline. I thought I'd never see you again.”
I held out my arms, and Madeline quickly walked to me and fell into them.
“I'm so sorry, Tom, to have put you through what I did, but I had to think.”
“Think about what?”
“About what I'd done to you. It felt so right at the time, but the next day, I got to thinking how forward I was, and how I made you do what I did. I felt awful about it. I mean, I'm so much older and...well, I even asked Judy and she said I should be ashamed of myself.
“She didn't understand when I said you made me feel like I'd never felt with Ricky, but Ricky always praised everything she did, instead of making her feel stupid like he did me. She also thought I was just talking about the sex.
“I told her the sex was really nice, but that wasn't what I meant. I tried to explain about how you're so much different than Ricky, and I tried to get her to understand that I feel about you like she feels about her Jim. She said I was just infatuated by you because you dance with me and that's why I threw myself all over you.
“I finally told her to stop acting like my mother because I was old enough to know what I need and want. She was a bit miffed by that, but she'll get over it. I think I've figured out what I need and want. What I need to know is if you feel even a little bit the same way, or if it is just my imagination like Judy says.”
I kissed her before saying anything, because that kiss said everything better than I ever could. I pushed Madeline gently away after a few seconds.
“Madeline, if you think you talked me into something that night, you're very, very wrong. I told you I didn't think those things ever work out, and I never would have done it if my feelings for you weren't stronger than my fears. You make me feel like Jeanine did. I want to keep feeling that way.”
The smile this time was genuine.
“Then I was right to tell Judy to stay out of my love life?”
“She’s just trying to make sure you don’t get hurt, Madeline.”
Madeline pushed her breasts into my chest and her mound into my thigh.
“This doesn’t hurt me. It feels good, and what we did after the dance was everything except painful.”
I smiled as Madeline did her best to put as much of her body against me as she could.
“Madeline, that night was the best night I’ve had in years, but no relationship survives very long on just sex.”
She flattened her lush body against me a little tighter and breathed in my ear.
“I know that, and that’s not all I feel. You make me feel good about who I am. I want keep feeling that way, just like you do, even if there’s nothing else. I hope there can be other things, tough. I hope you want the same things.”
“I do, Madeline, but I don’t want to promise anything I can’t really promise you.”
“You don’t have to promise anything except to keep dancing with me and to make me feel like a woman when I need to.”
Madeline nibbled my ear lobe.
“Oh, there is one thing though. The next time, could we find a bed instead of your couch?”
I closed up the studio about ten minutes later. It took that long to tell Madeline I would love having her with me between her passionate kisses and feeling her pressed against me She was happy as I drove us there, and as soon as I locked the door behind us, Madeline threw herself in my arms and smothered me with a kiss.
That night was different from the first in that Madeline didn’t wait for me to undress her. As soon as she walked into the bedroom, she asked if I’d unzip her dress, and then smiled as she quickly took it off. Underneath the shimmering green satin that covered her curves she wore nothing except little black boy shorts. As she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down over her sensuous hips, I kicked off my shoes and took off my shirt and pants.
Madeline tossed the panties on the floor, then looked up at me and grinned.
“Still like me like this?”
“I think if you'll look closely, you'll see the answer.”
Madeline pulled the blankets back to the foot of my bed, then sat down and rolled seductively onto her back. She spread her thighs a little, and held out her arms
“Come show me how much you like me, then.”
That night was better than the first, and our nights together just keep getting better. Madeline has become a part of me in a lot of ways, ways that I can't imagine ever giving up again. It's not just our nights together in my house or hers, though those nights are special. It's just being with her that has become something I don't ever want to lose.
She helps with all my classes now, and she's responsible for some of those reluctant husbands and boyfriends staying with the classes. They all want to dance with her, and it helps even things out when I dance with their wives and girlfriends.
We've not said the “L” word to each other yet, though there's no doubt in my mind that I love her and that she loves me. Sometimes, you know, that feeling is just there. It's there between us, Madeline and I, but I suppose after being hurt in the past like we both were, it takes a while before one can be that open with one's feelings again.
One day, maybe, we'll think about a relationship that's more permanent. For now, just being together is enough. It might always be enough, for all I know. I do know I'm happier than I've ever been, and Madeline seems the same way. Until that day comes, we'll keep dancing Argentine tango at the Saturday dances, and doing what Madeline calls the “Tango Argentine” afterwards.