Becoming a Man in the Shadowlands: a Survivor's Story
Copyright© 2019 by Dennis Randall
Chapter 31: Dance Classes
Somewhere along the line, Joyce decided that I needed to take dancing classes so that I could learn how to be a real gentleman. With little fanfare and lots of pressure from my mother, I was enrolled in Mrs. Rice’s Dance Studio.
Great! I already had a well-established reputation as a nerd. In the age of rock ‘n roll, I didn’t think a course in ballroom dancing was going to improve my social standing.
Mrs. Rice must have been a Marine drill sergeant in a previous life. Her commands were crisp, precise, and relentless.
She was a small woman of demure stature and unlimited energy. She always seemed to be dressed as if she were going to a funeral or returning from a wake. She wore her clothes like a uniform. With black ankle-length pleated dresses and high heels, she would march around the dance floor with her blonde hair in a tight bun. She was the image of perfect porcelain doll with her figure hidden under a cloud of white ruffles and lace.
She would snap her fingers in time to the music and much of the time her snapping fingers and clicking heels were the music.
Her commands sent us wheeling around the dance floor. Mistakes on the dance floor generated waves of wrath worthy of any of the goddesses out of Greek mythology. It was like learning to dance at gunpoint.
One benefit emerged from dance class. I found a girlfriend. Donna Frisk was a beautiful and shy teenage girl a year younger than I was. Donna was knock-dead gorgeous. Shoulder length brown hair framed her face and dark green eyes. She wore bright red lipstick with just a hint of blush on her cheeks. The rest of her body was as beautiful as her dimpled smile. She was about two inches shorter than I was, and she looked stunning with petite well-developed breasts accenting an hourglass figure.
To read this story you need a
Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In
or Register (Why register?)