Dancing Class

There are about seven or eight of us girls. We are in a dancing class (ball room dancing). The classroom is not indoors. It’s outdoors on a long strip of concrete area divided by a bar. The long strip of concrete floor is somewhat sloping.

The tutor is a short man (I’d say he is no more than 170cm). He is a middle aged Asian man and has a flat face. He wears a navy blue jacket and cream pants. Since I stand closest to him, he asks me to dance with him to demonstrate and explain to the rest of the class about dancing.

With my high heels he is about the same height as me. Without him directing me what to do, I have found a perfect alignment with him already. I think he is slightly surprised that I naturally lean backwards like a professional dancer and let his arm on my waist control my whole body. And the dancing starts. It only takes a few steps for me to get used to him before we dance like a pair of tacit long-term dancing partners as we find the perfect rhythm and pace in each other. As we dance with the music, we find ourselves almost flying.

It feels wonderful. During dancing a sense of connection has emerged - it’s an attraction but it’s certainly not physical attraction or chemistry, nor lust or love. It’s more like a sense of fulfilment when someone brings a dormant talent out of you and it feels damn alive and sexy!

After the class we walk back together. The tutor asks me as to why he’s never seen me wear skirt before. He tells me that I look absolutely stunning in my skirt. I am wearing a tight, white mid-sleeve cotton T-shirt and a red tartan skirt. I think he is right! I think I look more feminie when I wear skirts than pants. While wearing jeans reveals my shape which I am proud of, it doesn’t give me the gentle touch like the skirts do. I start to imagine as to what kind of skirts would look good on me.