The Dance

I have been seeing another woman and my wife doesn’t know.

Got your attention didn’t I?

Actually, it is not that salacious. I am seeing this “other” woman because of a major character flaw on my part:

I can’t dance.

My wife, Trish, has danced all her life. She was a dancer in high school and college — that is where we met. First time I saw her was on the dance floor, I fell in love with her beautiful aqua eyes, her soft voice and her long legs (in that order).

While she is an engineer by trade, Trish never gave up dancing. She has done ballet, ballroom, rumba, waltz, modern and everything in between. She still helps with dance classes in our city and even performs for community functions.

I never grew up dancing, but I thought I could. When we were dating in college, we would attend dances and I could shuffle my feet enough to get by.

If it was a fast dance, I could just jump up and down; move my arms and feet all around.

If it was a slow dance, I just hung on tight to Trish. I liked the slower dances much better.

At our wedding dance, I was able to dance a little, but several times, I stepped on her feet — but thought nothing of it. But it became a big deal because it got so bad, she actually was limping during our honeymoon. On the third morning of our married life, Trish reluctantly showed me the bruises on her feet and toes. They were done by my “two left feet.”

I was aghast and embarrassed. I had hurt my new wife and even though it was an accident, I could not bear the thought of hurting Trish again. So I stopped dancing.

From then on, when we went to clubs, community functions, family affairs, and weddings, Trish would dance with family and friends. I would watch. I was too scared of hurting Trish again. Even though she encouraged me to try again, the fear was too great.

Trish is so graceful, so tall, so lithe, so beautiful on the dance floor. She is everything I am not. Now, it hurt to see Trish out on the dance floor without me. But she was so happy when she danced that the idea of ruining that joy was too much for me to even think about going out there again.

I felt that way until I saw an ad in the local newspaper where someone was offering dance lessons for even those who had never danced before. “What could it hurt?” I thought. So I signed up and went to the first meeting in January.

The teacher’s name is Elizabeth Harrison. She is a kind, gentle, gray-haired mother of four and grandmother of seven. She had given dancing lessons for years, gave it up for family reasons, but after her husband died, decided to try again.

There were seven of us in the first class and if we had one good dance step combined between us, it was only due to the grace of God. We stumbled, tripped and stepped on each other. The first time I danced with Mrs. Harrison in front of the other students, I must have either stepped on her feet or kicked her ankles at least six times in a two-minute demonstration.

The other students laughed; probably because they knew there was someone worse than them. But Mrs. Harrison just smiled patiently and said I had “a unique style.” Mrs. Harrison is a very kind woman.

For three months in the winter and spring, 90 minutes a week, when I was supposed to be “at the gym,” I was at the dance studio. We learned to lead, follow, step, and glide across the floor. We will never be great but we learned enough not to embarrass ourselves (or hurt anybody else).

I never told Trish. It was going to be a surprise the next time we were at an event that included dancing. Mrs. Harrison wanted to hold a small dance recital so family and friends could see the progress we made. Luckily the weekend before that, Trish and I were headed to a family wedding upstate. And ta da….the wedding included a dance.

The wedding reception and dance were held in the ballroom of the hotel, which was on the second floor. Our room was on the sixth. After the wedding, everyone gathered in the ballroom for dinner and dance. As always, Trish was beautifully elegant in her sleek black dress and heels. She was radiant as always and her tallness allowed her to stand out gracefully above the crowd. We had dinner and good conversation in the ballroom. Soon, the attendees moved the chairs and tables away from the dance floor and the band began to play. As she always did, Trish offered me the first dance.

“You sure you don’t want to go out there with me?” she asked. “It will be fine. You won’t hurt me. I will lead the dance. You can do this.”

Trying not to laugh and give away my secret, I bit my lip and slowly shook my head. “Nope. Not going to do it and take a chance. I just want to watch you and not hurt you.”

As usual, there was a little sadness in Trish’s beautiful eyes, but she patted my hand and off she went to join the group. I watched the dancing for the first two songs. There was no doubt who the best dancer was out there. Trish danced in groups and with family members. She was graceful and beautiful. There was a radiant happiness about her as well.

It was the third dance…a slower, partner, two-step number where I made my move. Trish was dancing with her uncle. I got up, walked across the dance floor in a way that Trish could not see me, approached my uncle from the back and tapped him on the shoulder.

“May I cut in?”

I am not sure who was more surprised — Trish or her uncle. But he kindly gave way. I took Trish by her left hand and put my right hand on her hip. I looked into those beautiful eyes and said, “May I have this dance?”

Trish smiled — I even noticed a little tear in her eye — and we began to dance. Slowly, maybe even a little awkwardly, but we danced again as a couple. I didn’t step on her feet.

As we danced, Trish noticed that I had improved on what ever little dancing skill I had. She started to laugh that wonderful laugh.

“You have been holding out on me,” she said sweetly.

I feigned innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

Trish kept smiling. “Your dancing has, ah, gotten better. Was this just some type of miracle that just happened or have you been taking lessons?”

I pulled her closer. “I may have gotten some help,” I said.

Trish pulled back and arched her eyebrows at me. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

Quickly, I told her about the ad in the newspaper, Mrs. Harrison, the three months of dance lessons and the following week’s dance recital.

As I explained, I could see the look on Trish’s face soften and her eyes started to mist. “So you did this why?” she asked softly, barely heard above the music.

I again pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. “For you. I know how much joy you get from dancing and I wanted to share it with you.”

Trish kissed me on the cheek. “So you will.”

And we did. We spent at least 90 minutes on the dance floor together; we didn’t stop. Whatever the band played, we danced to it. We swung, we two stepped, we waltzed — we even did some sort of cowboy-western dance. It was just Trish and me. In the midst of all of the swirling bodies, we were in our own little world. I had the best dancer and most beautiful woman in the room in my arms and I couldn’t have been happier.

Finally, we decided to take a break. There was about an hour left in the reception and I couldn’t wait to dance again. As we got to our table, Trish grabbed her purse and start searching for something.

She finally sighed and said to me, “I left a card for the newlyweds in the room. I’ll go get it and be right back.”

I hated to see Trish go because I wanted to dance. “Hurry back,” I said.

Trish just smiled.

Five minutes went by. Then 10 minutes. I started to wonder where she was. Then I received a text message:  “Can’t find card. Can u come up here?”

I sighed, excused myself from the table guests and headed for our room. I hurriedly took the elevator, walked quickly into the room and entered. There was a low light on and soft music playing on the computer. And in the middle was Trish, wearing a black negligee, that ran high up her legs and showed off her lovely bosom.

I heard the sweetness in her voice. “I thought maybe we could continue our dance up here,” she said softly.

We took each other into our arms and passionately kissed for what seemed to be the longest time. As I felt her breasts push against me and squeezed her behind, I could feel the beginning of my own arousal.

After we came up for air, I looked deep into Trish’s beautiful eyes. I could see the love and warmth in them.

“I have come to deserve this why?” I asked with a smile.

Trish smiled back and kissed my cheek. “Because you learned to dance again for me,” she whispered. Then she giggled. “And being on the dance floor with you made me incredibly hot for you.”

I laughed. “If I had known that was going to happen, I would have taken dance lessons long ago.”

We both giggled together and then we started slowly swaying to the music on the computer. We kissed long and deeply, enjoying each other’s bodies.

Soon, I twirled Trish around so I could hold her from behind. I held her close, my arms around her waist, kissing her neck. She pushed deeper into me, allowing me to hold her closer. With my left arm holding her at the waist, my right hand began to move down Trish’s stomach, finally resting on the center between her legs. Trish put her hand on my hand as we slowly and sensually probed her private entrance together.

“I think I just found my new favorite dance,” I whispered in her ear.

Trish giggled, reached her left arm around my head, pulling my lips closer to hers. “So have I,” she whispered.

We kept moving as one, kissing and touching as the music played.

Finally, Trish pulled back and turned to face me. Using each hand, she pulled the negligee straps off her shoulders. She then pushed the garment off her breasts, down her torso, hips, and lovely legs. When she finished, Trish stepped away to reveal herself to me.

I followed by discarding first my coat, tie and shirt. Trish kept watching as I took off my shoes and socks. As I reached for my belt, Trish stepped forward. “Now it’s my turn,” she said smiling.

Trish kept her eyes locked onto mine as she slowly unbuckled my pants and pulled down the zipper. Pulling the pants wide, she pushed them past my hips and down my legs.

Using her index finger, she slowly traced the outline of the very present bulge in my underwear. I sighed as she gently touched me. Using her mouth to nibble at my chest, Trish slipped her fingers into both sides of my underwear and pulled down, allowing me to become fully erect.

Trish carefully put my penis into her hands, softly massaging it. Looking up again at me, Trish smiled and said quietly, “I am taking you to bed.”

Gently leading me by my member, Trish led me to the far side of the bed. As she reached to pull back the bed sheet, I pulled her back to me. She gasped as my hard penis folded flat against her buttocks. I again passionately kissed her neck as my hands swept down the front of her long, beautiful body.

We fell into bed and continued our sensual touching. She stroked my penis and used her mouth to suck my nipples. I let my hands probe the outer edges of her entrance. I dabbed my fingers into her private wetness and used the moisture to make her nipples more erect. We rolled back and forth across the bed, aching to touch each others in all places. As we laid side-by-side, Trish threw her right leg over my left hip and spread wide her left leg. As she did that, I shifted my body horizontally toward her middle, swinging my legs to the left. Trish took my penis and moved me to the edge of her entrance. She arched her back and gasped as I pushed into her. There was no movement at all for a time. I rubbed her nipples with the fingers of one hand. She tightly squeezed my other hand.

“I love you,” I whispered to her. “This is as good as dancing with you.”

I could hear Trish giggle and then she looked at me. “This is a different kind of dance,” she said softly. “Nobody else gets to cut in on this one.”

With that, I began to move my hips back and forth, slowly at first. But I began to increase my speed, becoming more aroused as I saw my penis enter and re-enter my beloved. Trish began to moan slightly and she tightened her grip on my hand.

As the moving increase, so did the tension of our bodies. Trish threw back her head and arched her back, her erect nipples pointing upward. I felt her chamber contract as her orgasmic wave reached its zenith. Watching her sent the surge through me and I cried out as I joined her.

We laid there for minutes, holding each other tightly until I slipped out from inside her. We didn’t stay uncoupled for long as we moved to our sides, me holding her from behind.

“Can I come to your recital next week?” Trish asked as she stroked my arm.

“I was hoping you would,” I replied.

“Good. I want to take a gift to Mrs. Harrison and personally thank her.”

I kissed Trish on the shoulder. “Why?”

Trish kissed my hand. “For giving me back my favorite dance partner.”