Dance Fever

I walked to the locker room without giving Gina the satisfaction of an answer. In the locker room, a bunch of guys were discussing how much they could bench and how many pull-ups they did. I showered in the corner and tried to hide my testicles from their view. I was motivated to do it better next time.

Gina was merciful at work the next day. She told the others that I had really attended the class and kept at it for the full hour. She told them I needed more practice, and didn't mention the lady's mashed foot. She gave me a big smile and a pat on the back. I think she was pleasantly surprised that I had done it.

The gym also had dance classes on Saturday mornings. I rationalized that my first performance was so lousy because I had been tired at the end of a workday. I would do much better when fresh in the morning. I told Gina and she agreed to change her plans for Saturday. At home, I practiced the basic moves I had learned. 1, 2, 3, step. 1, 2, 3, step. I considered drinking some liquid courage before the class, but decided that might be too dangerous for the ladies in the class. I had done enough damage while sober.

Saturday morning I had to drag myself out of bed. I felt like a little kid again, trying to avoid going to school and taking a difficult test. My mother wasn't there to prod me, so I had to get myself up. I got to the gym early and practiced the simpler steps by myself before anyone else arrived. Janet found me floundering in my steps and offered a few examples. It was so easy! She just did 4 little moves in a row, then repeated. I copied her perfectly! Without the audience, and without the music I was a great line dancer.

Gina and the rest of the class came in and started warming up. I kept practicing my steps. Two women approached me and complimented me for being brave enough to try the class. They said their husbands would never have the guts to dance in a room full of women. Somebody actually admired me for doing this! My pride balloon began to inflate slightly from its flat, wrinkled self.

The basic steps were easier on Saturday. I knew what to expect and how often Janet would switch from one step to another. I still missed many steps, but usually caught up again by the next measure of the song. I still focused on Janet's feet most of the time, but occasionally looked at the rest of her body and the other dancing figures. There are some rewards to humbling yourself in front of women - and behind them. The view from the back row was definitely the best.

At the end of class, Gina came over and said I was doing a little better. No sarcasm. No snarky comments. That was refreshing. She gave me a demo of one complicated step that I had consistently flubbed during class. I flubbed a few more times, but then my feet went the right way at the right time. I kept repeating it to build muscle memory. Gina nodded and smiled proudly. I saw Janet watching me from the corner, she was smiling too.

I was amazed how proud I felt from doing such simple little tricks. Just not stepping on anyone's feet was an accomplishment. This wasn't Ryan Gosling in La La Land stuff. It was very basic foot movements in sync with straight forward music. I had made more intricate moves while playing tennis or pick-up basketball. I was still an awkward rookie, but I hadn't embarrassed myself again. There was hope for improvement - and I now had the confidence to keep trying.

On Sunday, I had dinner with my folks and told them about my new interest in dance classes. "It's great. I'm learning to exercise a new way and I really enjoy it. And the women! You should see the collection of sexy, attractive women in the class. They think I'm special because I was brave enough to join. I think I may ask one or two on a date after a few weeks." My mother was beaming. She's been dropping hints about grandchildren for years.

I had lunch with Gina the following Monday and we discussed the fact that I was probably going to win the dare with the next class. She said that she regretted her drunken dare, but would honor her commitment if I made the third class. But, I sensed that she was also looking forward to delivering on her promise. The expected payoff did change our relationship. We still joked around, but we were also more serious. I tried to imagine how we would approach the act. Paying off a debt, business-like? Playfully? Passionately? I would let her set the mood.

My third dance class was actually a pleasure. I still stumbled when Janet introduced a new step and fell on my ass once when my shoe snagged on the floor. But I also kept up with most songs, only missing half of the steps. I found myself getting into the beat of the music and my feet started moving in time. It was fun! Less worry about my dance moves left more time to pay attention to the rest of the class. Some women were only slightly better than me. Most of them stayed in sync with Janet most of the time. A few of them were a wonder to watch.

Many people learn great dancing in professional dance schools. But a lucky few are born with a natural grace that shines while dancing. Even a basic spin becomes a work of art when done with natural grace. I don't know how they got it, but it is instantly obvious when they dance. Their bodies are very pretty, but their movements are beautiful.

One of the best in class was Christie. She was able to move her body in smooth, flowing motions while everyone else jerked from step to step. I know that women have better flexibility in their hips than men. I think it has something to do with giving birth. I'm sure you've seem movies with belly dancers or sexy Latin women swinging their hips around like jello. But watching a graceful woman in person is mesmerizing. Swinging her hips smoothly from side to side while her arms sway over her head is one of the sexiest movements I have ever seen. I lost my place in the dance whenever she did that.

Another talent was Aisha. While the rest of us focused on just getting the steps right, she would add the most graceful arm and head movements. She could accentuate a simple side step by extending an arm in a curve in the direction of the step and turning her head to follow it. Then she would smoothly reverse the flow to the other side without hesitation. She occasionally wore one of her saris to class instead of workout clothes. That accentuated her most graceful moves and made me feel like we were in a Bollywood movie.

I had recognized the sex appeal of all of the women in the class during my first lesson. The constant distraction of tits and asses in motion was likely the cause of many of my errors - I rationalized. By the third lesson, I had become less self-conscious and more conscious of the other types of beauty in the room. Most of the women were supportive of each other - and rookies like me. I wasn't sure if their words to me were simple encouragement or flirting. They were all fairly fit and attractive. A self-selecting group for those traits. They all enjoyed the classes and never complained about it being boring or monotonous. Some of them had been in the class more than five years.

At the end of the third class, I had just one thing on my mind. I waited outside the gym for Gina to emerge. I was pretty proud of myself for having had the courage to join the class. I'm sure I had a big shit-eating grin on my face when she spotted me. She was smiling too.

I started the conversation. "Well, you dared me and you stipulated the conditions and rewards. I have completed the three lessons that you required. So, I'll let you also stipulate the time and place of my reward."

"OK, Marty. You won the dare and you will get your reward. But, before that, I want to make one thing clear between us. I like you and I'm proud of you for having the courage to walk into that class. I can see that your confidence has been boosted. But, it won't go past this one BJ. I don't love you. We're different in too many ways. Is that all right with you?"

I was a bit put off by that message, but understood. She wanted to be clear that the fellatio would be a one-time event, physical only, with no emotional baggage. Yeah, I could handle that.

She came to my place the following evening right after work. I had some nice dinner delivered and we casually ate the food and drank a bottle of wine. The anticipation was scrambling all my other thoughts, and hardening my cock. Her own anticipation was evident from her jittery movements. I didn't bother to clear the table.

Gina then took charge and asked "Well, where would you like it? I had already thought about that and suggested my bedroom. Might as well be as comfortable as possible while my world is rocked. We walked quickly down the hall.

"Strip!" she commanded. I hadn't really thought about this part. I had fantasized many times about the actual blowjob, but not the preliminaries. Could I really be comfortable getting naked with a female friend? It took about 1.5 seconds to decide I could. I stripped down quickly and was glad that I had worn clean underwear that day. I couldn't believe that the guy who was too afraid to ask girls out on dates was standing naked with a woman about to blow him.

Gina took a good look at my protruding junk and seemed pleased. She started forward and then halted. "It's been a long day at the office. How about you take a shower so you're fresh?"

I couldn't argue with that, so I walked straight to my shower and started the water. I was surprised when she came into the bathroom behind me. "I want to make sure you're really clean" she giggled. I was a little offended that she didn't trust me to wash myself. I stepped into the water and reached for the soap. I had scrubbed my chest and back and was about to start on the more important parts when I felt her smooth skin on my back. I spun around to find her in the shower completely naked. I must have looked surprised because she said, "Well, I don't want to get my clothes all wet while I wash you."

As you might expect, the washing was very thorough. I tried to repay the service, but she brushed my hands away. She knelt down in the shower and proceeded to gently scrub my nether region with soap and a washcloth. She said she had to test if I was clean enough, so she started wrapping her lips around my cock and sucking. I took hold of the grab bars in the shower to keep myself upright. I had never been with a women that talented.

She declared that I was clean enough and we turned off the water and dried each other with towels. I hadn't anticipated seeing her naked body that night so I took a good long look while she dried her hair. Her body was stunning: modest, firm breasts, smooth tapered waist, shapely legs that flowed up to form her perfect ass. Her face was surrounded by curly wet dark hair and simply shone. I was as hard as I have ever gotten. I knew our relationship as just work friends was over.

She led me into the bedroom and instructed me to lie on my back along one side of the bed. She laid down at a right angle from my body, her head on my thigh and started to stroke my meat. I just laid there with my eyes shut as her mouth closed around me and my brain simply stopped. I floated in pleasure and my only awareness was in my cock. It was the center of my universe.

She knew how to lick and suck and touch me to push me toward climax. But, before I got there, I realized that she was moaning loudly around my cock. Her body was moving rhythmically in time with her sucking. I opened my eyes to see her lying on her side, facing me, writhing and her left hand between her legs, diddling her clit. She wanted to share in the pleasure!

"Gina. Stop!" It took a few seconds for her to slow her stroking and frigging. She raised her head and yelled "Why?!" There was real frustration in her face.

"You don't have to do that. Scoot your pussy over here and let me do you at the same time. You know, 69."

She only had to think about that for a second and she quickly swung around on the bed and put her left thigh over my head, thrusting her womanhood into my face. She was soaking wet and smelled of sex. I dove in with enthusiasm, licking and sucking her labia and moving down to her tunnel. I thrust my tongue inside and she jumped. I licked forcefully back and forth across the edge of her opening and she continued to shake. At the same time, I felt her trying to swallow my dick. I reached around her leg and quickly and lightly tickled her clit. It took only seconds for her to cum in great waves. That pushed me over the edge and I too exploded, screaming in ecstasy. We clung onto each other as our bodies convulsed, shuddered and squeezed. It was a perfect simultaneous orgasm.

When we both returned to normal breathing and heart rate, I knew the next few minutes would be awkward. If you've just had great sex with a woman you might want to stay with a long time, you would cuddle and kiss and whisper sweet things to each other. If you've just paid a whore for a quick BJ, you get up quickly, get dressed, say "Thank You" and leave - or she leaves. But what about a great time with a sort-of-platonic friend with benefits?

Gina solved the problem like she always does - directly and practically. She pulled away from my body, sat up and said, "Boy, that was great. Thanks for reciprocating Marty. I really enjoyed that. Did you have a good time?" I was still lying there in a stupor, but managed to mumble "Great time Gina. Thanks for the BJ and thanks for getting me to go to the dance classes." She smiled, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, slapped my butt, got dressed and left. I must admit my feelings for her were getting confusing and conflicted.

The next day at work, the guys were razzing me and demanding a full report on my reward. Gina sat at her desk, smiling contentedly. I considered saying "No guys, a gentleman doesn't just get blown and tell." But instead, just said "Gina kept her commitment and we had a very nice evening. End of story." They grumbled, but had to accept not getting the juicy details - and they were very juicy.

A few days later, I overheard one of the guys overtly trying to proposition Gina for a blowjob. All I heard after that was a loud smack. I had been concerned about that since our special night. The other guys had heard her make the dare and offer the BJ. After she delivered, they would assume she was just a slut and loved sucking dick. She did love sucking dick, but not for just anyone. Although she was business-like when dealing with me in the office, I often noticed her checking me out during the day. She sometimes brought me coffee and stayed to chat. Was she more attracted to the new, more confident Marty?

I decided I really did enjoy the dance classes so I started going twice a week. It turned out that Gina was only an occasional dancer and had only gone to my first three classes for my sake. When Gina wasn't there, the other women always said hi and started small talk. I got lots of compliments on my coordination and rhythm. My ego returned to its normal, engorged self. I became part of the group of regulars in the class. I mastered some more complicated steps and really enjoyed moving fast with the music and the other dancers. Gina came occasionally and always chatted with the regulars while they looked at me and smiled.

Gina's original premise about women being attracted to a man with confidence was certainly true. They want a man brave enough to go out and kill lions - or something. I hadn't done that, but I had done something far more frightening - I'd danced in the gym with women. I didn't need to exhibit physical courage, thank God. But I had shown social courage and that counts for a lot with many women - particularly confident women.

One Saturday, six of the women invited me to have lunch with them after class. I couldn't refuse that offer. We met in the lobby of the gym after we had all showered and changed. Janet offered me a ride I was happy to accept as I had lent my car to my sister that day. The guy at the front desk smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up as I walked out with my harem.

When we got to the restaurant, the six women subtly directed me to sit at the head of the table, with three women on each side. I liked being in that position. After ordering, the inquisition began. "Are you married?", "How do you know Gina?", "What do you do for a living?", "Where do you live?", "Do you live alone?" etc. I'm maybe not the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I could see where this was going. And I liked it a lot.

As I was debriefed by the investigators, I noticed a remarkable thing. The six women at the table shared many traits. In the dance class, women were from 20 to 52 years old. No one was really fat, but some of them were soft in places. Several of them were married. Some were quite shy and unsure of themselves - like I had been for a while. But my lunch companions were none of those. They were all in their 30's, single, very fit and trim, very good looking, knew what they wanted from life and were sure they would get it. I am sure that I have never in my life sat at a table with that much total sex appeal.

Their questions got more and more personal. By the end of the meal, I had described my doomed marriage, my political leaning, my hobbies and my sexual preferences. The only thing I learned from them was that they wanted me. Several of them noted my courage to join their class and expressed - out loud - how that kind of confidence turned them on. I had never experienced anything like that. I tried to maintain my confident aura - I didn't want to burst their bubble.

When we finished, Janet took me aside and asked some simple questions about how I liked the class. The other five were huddled at the other end of the table. Then Christie came over and asked how I had enjoyed the meal as Janet rejoined the rest of the crew. Watching them talking, I realized they were negotiating. Twice, I saw Janet toss a coin and slap it on her wrist. My eyes flew open when I realized what they were negotiating for.

Aisha, the Indian goddess, left the group and turned toward me. The others all cheered and patted her on the back as she stepped forward. Evidently, the winner had been decided. Her face showed her excitement and her confidence. She knew what she wanted and was coming to get it. I felt like a rabbit, sitting in an open field, watching an eagle swoop down with talons extended.

"Could I give you a ride home, Marty?" she said with her sly smile. All of the other women were watching for my response. "Sure, Aisha, I'd appreciate that." I grabbed my gym bag and followed her to the car. She was still in her leggings, so I had a clear view as her butt swished back and forth. At the door, she turned her head, saw me ogling her backside, and smiled mischievously. The other women all cheered and waved goodbye as we pulled out of the lot.

She pulled into my driveway and turned off the engine. "Can I come in and see your place Marty?" I could hardly say no at that point. Would I ever say no to her?

"Sure, Aisha, you can see anything you like in my house." My hand was trembling when I tried to insert the key in the lock. Other parts of me were throbbing.

I wasn't sure what role she wanted me to play at that moment. Did she expect this very confident man to carry her to his bed and have his way with her? But, I hardly knew this woman. I didn't want to be a sexual aggressor and have her file charges. I stalled by asking if she'd like a drink. "Sure, I'll take anything you want to offer me," she smirked. I directed her toward the couch and went to the kitchen and my very narrow selection of drinks. "How about white wine?" I shouted from the kitchen. "Great," she answered after a short delay. I opened a nice chardonnay, poured out two glasses and turned back to the living room.