No Fred Astaire am I. I hated the sqaure dancing the made us do in PE in 7th grade...WTF is with Doe-see-Doe and bow to your partner have fuck-all to do with physical education...I however along the way early on figured out that you could walk up to any gorgeous girl at a dance and more often than not be having at least cursory physical contact with her.
I have a theory too about why this odd practice evolved socially. Its about the pheremones baby. You get within someone's arms and you are easily within range of being pheremonally manipulated. Awsome. As we said back in the 80's when I was dancing to Rick James "Superfreak" and Robert John's "Sad Eyes".
I now use this to my advantage at every opportunity. I SUCK at boot-scootin' country line dancing and other girls dancing with girls mostly stuff, but I persist...its a good way to get a foot albeit a clumsy one in the door, or in this case under the skirt. I have had a couple of successes at meeting women in country bars AFTER I ditched my cowboy boots that felt like an affectation. I actually found them surprisingly comfortable and still wear 'em but not to country bars. Well thats another story...I'll tell that next maybe.
This one is about last Saturday Night. I had cruised the hotel lobby bar and the nearby ones Friday after my training session to no avail. Ditto (predictably) Craigslist, but some fun reads. Ashley-Madison had thoughtfully sent out an advance party looking for a little guilty-wife tail but I didn't put in the effort I should have. They have a nice feature for the traveler where you can mass email in a city you are visiting recognizing you haven't the time to put in the effort pursuing them by ones and twos for a one or two day stay, "we're MASS cummunicatin' boy!" That too is a whole other post I think.
So a little pent up fantasy looking for an outlet took me shoppin for some strange if you will a bit farther afield than I usually go. I wandered about the city and found a hole in the wall that had a sign out front about "dance tonight." I stopped in and grinned at Billy Idol's "Dancing with Myself." after a couple of songs.
I spotted a youngish couple, was a little wary of the possible gang-ish looking (prison??!) tats on husband/boyfriend's neck. Nice interview fodder that, I am sure. Turned out to be husband, he seemed OK when I approached. Had a young James Olmos voice and made me smile a bit at how he seemed to lay it on a little thick when he said "no problem, homes." When I asked if I might borrow his wife.
Just like that. No preamble, no groundwork. Of course he correctly interpreted my meaning as in to dance with but you know, baby steps.
She was as Jimmy Biffut would describe, a "Mexican Cutey". I demurred asking her her country of origin despite a delicious accent that "teek-eled" my ear delightfully. Couldn't have been more than 5' but tall heels and a confidant stride made her a lot of woman in such a petite package.
I cut her out of the herd after observing her unsuccessful attempt to drag Mr. Machismo out onto the floor. I didn;t approach then, just followed it away, until I caught her actually dancing a few steps in place while husband and a friend sat at one of those high small bar tables and chatted.
He watched, but seemed unconcerned. I minded my hand position..I had in no way permission granted to squeeze the Charmin so I did my best to enjoy her with a little air gap...she had a nice groove of moving in with a little bump but not exactly a grind. stereotypical I know but Latina sensual.
We made small talk I complimented her on her dancing, apologized for my pedestrian skills. We talked about competitive dancers she was wistful saying not about the competition but she'd love to have a partner that could whirl her around like they do. I made a few exaggerated moves, didn't drop her and was rewarded with a laugh of delight.
I inquired about her actual partner."Does he not dance?" she shook her head and explained he does and well she says, but seems to have a policy of leaving her wanting more...more complicated than that I suspect..
"You don't want to leave a woman wanting too much more...I teased.
"No," she agreed, "It can get dan-gerous."
I returned her to her husband after a couple of songs it was an 80's night though she and husband seemed a little young for that. The women (mostly cut out of herds of singles) that I twirled and made a fool of myself with on 'fast songs' with exaggerated movements were more in my age range and did remeber..it was actually pretty fun in its own right.
I got back to the little Latina, (Maria, aren't they all?) a couple of more times and gently prodded. I asked her about how he felt about loaning her out. Meaning to dance of course, but there was a little edge there. She admitted he likes to go out with her and that he clearly enjoys when she gets 'oogled" she said rhyming it with Google.
I mentioned that I could see that happening a lot given her "nice little body" (pushing it there a little) and "angelic face" not to mention her fine sense of style.
She laughed and said, "Style? You guys don't notice what we are wearing as long as it shows a little boobs and ass!"
I protested," Don't forget the shapely gams!" puzzling her, I explained it's an old not-used much now word for legs.
Big smile with that. "Yeah I got that, for sure.." I liked her. A lot.
That's as far as it went but I went home with a smile on my face and Prince's "Little Red Corvette." wedged in my brain.
So no black book worth entry to make, but I wanted to share the misses to show what its really like out there trolling. See a wife in a bar with music and wiggling her toes, take a chance. But mind the shivs.
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