The time that I spent with Lynn, the girl I had met at the gym after my divorce, was rather blissful in many ways. Not only was she fun to be around and a great conversationalist, but she loved to try new things. This I consider a very positive attribute in a woman. Not just new restaurants and the like, but actually learning new things. Expanding our horizons, so to speak. One of the things we did together as a couple was to take ballroom dance lessons.
Prior to this time, my idea of dance was something you did at weddings after a few drinks. I am admittedly not much of a dancer. I have to say I admire those dancers you see on TV. I often envied their grace and athleticism. I sometimes imagined myself at some event, tossing my date in the air in the middle of the dance floor while everyone present looked on in wonder. Hopefully, I would be able to catch her on the way down.
Those occasional thoughts of wowing the audience on the dance floor at some relatives wedding were never enough to get me to take dance lessons. My watching competitive ballroom dancing on the television and imagining myself and a date in the spotlight seemed like something that had little or no chance of ever really happening. It ranked right up there with ultimate fighting. I sometimes imagined myself in the ring while watching the UFC, but I knew better than to ever let that happen. Until I met Lynn, I felt the same way about ballroom dancing.
Lynn somehow had remarkably persuasive powers over me. Probably something to do with the fact that she was a hot looking, athletic woman who was good in bed. It was not hard for her to get me to do almost anything and she knew it. So, when her and I went down to the local dance studio and enrolled ourselves in ballroom dance classes, I did have my misgivings. In the back of my mind I somehow thought this was only going to end up with me making a huge fool of myself. I was always fairly athletic, but dancing was something that just never seemed to come natural. Perhaps because my heart was never truly into it. Then again, maybe if I had a partner dressed like those ballroom dancers you see on television it might be a different story.
We paid our dues after listening to a fifteen minute speech by the instructor and headed home. Our classes were to take place every Tuesday night at eight. I had mixed emotions as I drove home that night. For the most part I felt that I really could not make too much of a fool out of myself surrounded by other beginners, yet I still had my reservations.
When Tuesday night finally arrived, Lynn and I drove the twenty minutes to the local dance studio. Lynn was much more excited about the whole thing than I was. It would be more accurate to say I was more nervous than excited, though I somehow resisted the temptation to stop at a bar for a few drinks to calm my nerves along the way.
After parking the car we made our way into the dance studio. We were about ten minutes early when we made our way into the big room. It was a sparse room with few adornments other than the folding chairs which lined the walls. People were standing around chatting, waiting for the lessons to begin. Looking around, I counted a total of sixteen people, eight couples in all. Most seemed casually dressed, like ourselves, and my initial impression was that everyone was fairly friendly and easygoing. That was a definite plus.
Several minutes later our instructors walked in carrying a portable sound system which they set up in the front of the room. They were an attractive couple in their thirties, I would guess. Judging from their accents, I would have to say they were from South America. I guess it would be nice to learn Latin dances from real Latin Americans I thought to myself. Later I found out they were indeed from Argentina and had been teaching dance most of their lives.
Carlos and Maria stood in front of the room and gave a brief talk about the different types of ballroom dances following their initial introductions. They had an easy going air about them and punctuated their conversation with occasional laughter. This no doubt helped put everyone at ease, myself at least. When their talk was over they followed it with a demonstration of the various dances while the music played in the background. I could not help but be impressed by the ease of which they glided across the dance floor as us sixteen students stood back and looked on.
After the talk and demonstration, the sixteen students were divided into groups of four, two couples per group. This made it easy for one of our instructors to spend time with each of the groups and it also allowed us the opportunity to switch partners within the group. Lynn and I were paired off with an attractive couple who introduced themselves as Ron and Jillian. I would have to say Jill, as she called herself, was around my age or slightly younger. Her husband Ron was about ten years older than her.
Ron and Jill seemed a pleasant enough couple, which was nice since we would be working closely with them for the duration of the lessons. Ron was by far the most talkative of the two, a very gregarious sort of guy. He informed us that he is a vice-president of a major investment bank. Jill apparently spent her days involved in charity work. One only had to look at her expensive yet tasteful jewelry and clothing to imagine a woman who's biggest worry was how to donate the couple's excess money.
Lynn and Ron's shared gift of gab assured their was never a lull in the conversation. Jill by contrast, had a quiet reticence which would seem a put-off to some. She rarely seemed to look you in the eye, but when she did her big brown eyes displayed a remarkable intensity. Far from being put off, I was quite intrigued.
Our instructors made their rounds as we were given some basic waltz steps. Lynn and I moved easily to the rhythm of the music coming from the portable stereo. Carlos and Maria's easy going manner helped me relax and I was able to get into the groove more than I would have expected. Lynn was more of a natural and needed little coaxing.
After a period of time, we were instructed to change partners. It was my turn to dance with Jill. I walked up to her and offered my hand. She accepted and we began to move together in time to the music. This quiet, reticent woman seemed to somehow come alive on the dance floor. Those eyes which seemed so intense yet distant otherwise, took on a certain playfulness. Her curly brown hair framed a face which began to reveal a newfound joy. It was as if someone had taken a key and unlocked a cell door which had been imprisoning her very soul.
As we moved around the dance floor, our movements locked in rhythm. It was as if time stood still as this otherwise reserved woman seemed to somehow come alive in my arms. Watching a certain glow unfold across her pretty face was causing me to have feelings which were best not shared with Lynn.
That night, on the way home, Lynn and I discussed our first dance lesson. We both agreed that taking dance class was a good move. Lynn and I thoroughly enjoyed our first class, though perhaps not for the same reasons.
The rest of the week, I could not get Jill out of my mind. I sat at work thinking about the girl who mysteriously came alive on the dance floor. Sitting there, I was truly looking forward to my next dance class.
