Brooke took me to a dance class last night. Salsa dancing.
Not that it’s come up, but Brooke (in his male days) was an advanced salsa dancer. We’re not talking basic step and cross body lead, here, but proper triple turns and complex choreographies. He even won a few local contests, just for fun. He was good enough that the hottest girls would ask him for a dance, not the other way around. (Me, I just watched by the sidelines, sipping my beer in envious silence.)
Of course, Brooke’s transformation into a girl somewhat changed all that. For starters, the steps aren’t the same. As a guy, you start with your left foot forward. As a girl, you start with your right foot back. And of course, with her rather impressive breasts, Brooke had to deal with a different balance from before. Plus, there was all the sexy flourish gestures ladies have to do while dancing, which guys don’t learn. But the worst, she told me, was getting used to BEING led when you’ve been the one leading for so many years. (If you’re not familiar with dancing, it’s the guy’s job to lead, and the woman has to follow — it’s about the only time we men are REALLY in charge.
All this to say that yesterday, Brooke (AGAIN in a new body) wanted to re-learn some of what she’d lost, and she figured it wouldn’t hurt for me to tag along. Secretly, I think she’d rather dance with me than with other creeps who’d try to get a little too close. With me, she was safe. Or at least safer. I have to admit, I miss Mandy, and while Brooke has altered her appearance a bit, holding Mandy so close to me didn’t leave me indifferent.
But I digress. The point is that Brooke wanted me to learn some dancing skills, just in case, some day, I have no faerie influence in my life and have to learn how to get laid for myself. So I did what I could, but I’ll admit I must have looked horribly clumsy.
The teacher (Cornell) then surprised us (Brooke & I, at least) by saying this was a combo class — half salsa, half bachata. If you’ve never seen bachata before, it’s VERY HOT! It involves a lot of hip swinging, close body contact, and crotch grinding against the other’s leg.
Really, it’s like sex with your clothes on.
But of course, there was no way we could weasel our way out of this. Brooke looked at me. “We can do this,” she said. “Just don’t you DARE get a boner!”
I laughed, maybe a little too hard. “Don’t YOU dare spring a leak!”
So we danced. Blushing furiously, we danced. And I gotta say, even if she used to be a guy, Brooke’s got all the right moves.
We sorta had a good time, but after we got out, we mostly talked about the salsa part. Not a word on the bachata.
Next update: TuesdayShare