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Dance Instruction

Dance Instruction


Erotic fiction by Michele London


Kylie half-jogged across the parking lot to the front of the unassuming concrete building, late, as usual. She wasn’t even sure she was in the right place. If it weren’t for the sign in one of the windows, INSTRUCTION – WALTZ, TANGO, SALSA, she would have been sure she was not. It was an odd location for a dance studio, clear across town and edging towards the industrial district, surrounded by warehouses and parking lots fenced in chainlink.

She only hoped it was nicer on the inside. And that the instructor wasn’t some creepy weirdo. She grumbled, for what felt like the five-hundredth time since Carly had gotten engaged, at the lengths she was being forced to go for her friend’s wedding.

She pulled open the heavy door and stepped inside with a whoosh of cold air. She was in a hallway, dark and full of echoes, the smell of rubber and stale sweat hanging in the air.
     “Hello?” she called, rounding the corner that opened out onto a mirrored dance floor.
     “Sorry I’m a bit late, I’ve been running behind all day today.”

He was leaning against one of the barres along the mirror, a mop of brown hair hanging over his forehead. He wore a soft t-shirt and a pair of black track pants, along with black dance shoes. He gave her a wan smile as he pushed off of his post and moved to greet her.
     “Then that will have to be your first lesson,” he said, taking her cold hand in his warm one.
     “Timing.”

Everything about him was long and lean and lithe, hard and muscular as only a dancer could be. He took her hand and led her towards the piano at the far corner of the studio, taking her bag and jacket from her without a word and depositing them in a slump against one of the mirrors.

     “I’m David,” he said.
     “Kylie.”
    “So, Kylie. Why are you here?”
     “Well, to learn to dance, I guess. My friend Carly got engaged and she wants everyone in the wedding party to learn how to waltz for the reception and I’ve never danced a step in my life, but, when you agree to be a bridesmaid you agree to all sorts of ridiculous things, I guess.”

He waited for her to finish, then smiled a bit. She got the feeling he was laughing at her.
     “A waltz, then. And you’re a beginner.” She tucked the flyaways from her ponytail behind her ears, and nodded.
     “Yes.”
     “Then we’ll start at the beginning.”

And then, suddenly, he was close to her, slipping his hand around to the small of her back. He took her hand and raised it up so that they were both at shoulder height. Kylie let her breath out slowly and tried not to look awkward as he adjusted her posture and form. He was at least a head taller than she was, so she was spared the embarrassment of staring into his eyes for the moment, at least. But then, he began to speak, and she found herself looking up into his face anyway.
     “So. This is how you start the waltz. Head up, back straight. Hands together.”

He curled the fingers of his raised hand through her own, holding her palm firmly.
    “Good,” he murmured, and Kylie had to bite back the ridiculous smile that threatened to spread across her face. It was bad enough that she was blushing. This was all supposed to be professional, he was a teacher, she was paying him to teach her, nothing more. And anyway, he was probably gay. Weren’t a lot of male dancers gay? He didn’t seem gay. Maybe he was both…

When he stepped away to start the music, Kylie broke out of her reverie. What earthly difference could it make who he preferred to, um, dance with? She hadn’t come here to flirt, and anyway, look at him, he was gorgeous, he probably had a slew of other gorgeous dancers that he hooked up with and, and, helped change after sweaty dance workouts, all limber muscles and graceful fingers and…

     “Are you ready?”
He didn’t wait for her to stammer out a reply before stepping back into position and taking her hand once more.
     “But I don’t know the steps,” she said.
     “Don’t worry. Just follow my lead. That’s the most important part of this dance,” he continued as he began moving them along the floor in time with the music. “You have to be able to follow where your partner leads. To be so in tune with his movements that you can match yours to his, that you can release all your control and simply melt into him, let him guide you, move you, push and pull your steps until you’re not two dancers, you are one couple, waltzing.”

His fingers pressed into the small of her back, gently urging her to move one way or the other, and Kylie found herself entranced by the sound of his voice. What was he doing? Was he coming on to her? She tried to concentrate on dancing. It was easier to do than she’d feared, with David’s effortless lead.
     “You have excellent form,” he murmured, letting his eyes do a sweep of her body as they moved.
     “Thank you,” she said. “So do you.”

She tried to laugh off the remark, horrified that she’d made such a gaff. But David only raised an eyebrow and smiled, and, she could have sworn, pulled her in a little tighter.
     “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he replied.
     “How long have you been dancing?”
     “Since I was a kid. It started out as a good way to meet girls. Then I fell in love with it. Are you starting to feel it?”
     “Feel what?” she asked. “Oh, oh the dancing. Yes, I think I’m starting to get it. You’re the teacher. You tell me. Am I any good?”
     “Yes, for a beginner. Of course, there are still a lot of things to learn.”

The music came to an end, and they stopped and stood, and though Kylie expected him to break his hold and move away, he did not.
     “If you’re willing to be a student, that is,” he said.

Kylie stared at him, his green eyes suddenly full of mischief and daring, and his messy brown hair that she wanted to rake her fingers through. She knew there was something she should say, some perfect remark that would make her seem casual and glamorous and alluring, without being too much of a tramp. But whatever that something was, it alluded her.
     “Are you coming on to me?” she said.
     “Would it be a bad thing if I was?” She considered, briefly.
     “No.”

He kissed her then, pressing at the small of her back again as he dipped his head and brought his lips down to hers. Kylie returned the gesture, tilting her head back and lifting up on her toes to meet him. The kiss was tentative at first, but then, as they both gained more confidence, it grew harder, frenzied, and David walked her backwards until her back found the mirrored wall of the studio.

Once there, he began moving his kisses down her throat, stopping briefly to pull the tank top up and over her head. She helped him, dragging up her sports bra along with it and letting both fall in a heap on the floor.

David wasted no time, palming her breasts, then sucking on them; nipples and soft, warm flesh; squeezing them together and rolling the nipples between his fingers. Kylie tugged on his t-shirt, pulling it up so she could press her hands to his chest and run her fingertips across the hard, chiseled expanse of his abs and pecs. She pulled him away long enough to get the shirt over his head, and then clutched his smooth shoulders, marveling at their strength. She was just settling in to the feel of his mouth on her chest when he grasped her shoulders and spun her around the face the mirror. He twined his fingers through hers and pressed them both against the glass.
     “Will you follow my lead?” he asked.
     “Yes,” she replied, breathless.

His hands slid down her waist and hooked the elastic of her pants, pushing them down around her thighs. The cold air shocked her, but she leaned her forehead against the mirror and took a deep breath. His hand ran the length of her slick folds, stopping briefly to circle and tease her clit before pushing inside her. He toyed with her for several long moments, bringing her close to climax only to slow down and back away from her aching need. Finally, Kylie threw her head over her shoulder, panting and frustrated.
     “Just fuck me already!” David laughed, but moved quickly to comply.

     “Who’s leading now?” he said, as she heard the soft thump of his own pants hitting the floor.
He took her hips and positioned them out further from the mirror, until she was bent nearly in half. Kylie looked up and their reflection, and the sight was enough to send a surge of heat to her sex.
     “Oh my god,” she breathed.
     “Are you ready?”

She nodded, and a moment later felt the nudge of his erection between her thighs. He was just big enough to fill her, and Kylie let her muscles relax and take all of him in. He tightened his hold on her hips and used her as leverage to thrust himself as deeply into her as he could. Her cheek flattened against the cool glass of the mirror, and Kylie tried to spread her legs wider despite the restricting bind of her gym pants around her legs.
     “Go faster, please,” she moaned.

David replied by increasing his speed, pumping into her with quick, hard movements. Her face pressed harder against the mirror but she didn’t care, not while he was fucking her, not when she was so close to coming.

When she did, and all her muscles contracted and released around the hard length of his shaft, David doubled his pace, grabbing her ponytail and riding out the wave of her orgasm until, a moment later, his own came crashing down on him. He stiffened and cried out, steadying himself with a hand on the mirror.

For what seemed like forever, they stayed that way, breathing a little slower with each inhale, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
     “Oh my god,” Kylie said as they both finally straightened. “I can’t believe I did that.” She pulled her pants back up and adjusted the band around her waist.
     “I don’t, I mean, I’ve never done something like that before.”
     “Neither have I. It’s pretty unprofessional, for a teacher.”
Kylie smirked and bent down to retrieve her top.
     “So then, I could probably get you in trouble, couldn’t I? With, the board of dance teachers, or something?”
He grinned back. “I guess so, yes.”
     “I’d never do that, though.”
     “No?”
     “No. I’ve decided I like dance lessons. And how would I learn without someone to lead?”

She raised up on her toes again and kissed him. Suddenly, having put her pants back on seemed like a huge waste of time.



Copyright ScarletGirl.com




Michele London is an author, editor, and romance consultant with Scarlet Girl. She is a regular contributor to Scarlet’s Letter and the archive of articles at ScarletGirl.com. She writes dark fiction and erotic fantasy, and dips into real-life tales of sexy for the lovely ladies as a Scarlet Girl pleasure party consultant in the San Francisco Bay Area.

If you like this bit of erotica, and would like to see more, please let us know.
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This article was added to our catalog on Wednesday 16 January, 2013.

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