By
Vicki Levin, author of Just Keep Your Panties On: A Playful Book
about Food and Erotica for the Bedside Table
Many little girls dream of prince charming. You know the one—he’s handsome
and flirtatious and can dance. Really, truly dance. We envisioned him taking us
into his arms, twirling us around, all the while gazing into our eyes with
flaming desire. Or so that is what I dreamed. What did you dream?For many women, the adult reality is somewhat different if you were born after around 1950. Partner dancing, no longer taught as a fundamental social skill, has disappeared. In its place we hopped and thrashed and spun about madly on the dance floor with no relationship to anyone—perhaps not even ourselves.
A case may be made that the feminist movement killed the impetus for a lead/follow approach to social dance as many women wanted only one thing: to lead their social, political, familial and work lives. They also wanted to lead how they danced. Perhaps I was born too late. Were there ANY men who still thought partner dancing was part of courtship, foreplay and pleasure?
Ah, but to be in the arms of your lover, sweeping across a smooth wooden floor, gracefully turning and spinning with the lightest of touch between you. What a fantasy…to be dancing like Fred and Ginger in some romantic location—or in the kitchen. It doesn’t really matter. Just the art of the dance—him leading, me following…
Then at fifty-two, I lucked out. My new amour WANTED to learn, so we took dance lessons for about two years: West Coast Swing, Nightclub Two-Step, Rhumba (my personal fav), Fox Trot and Country Two-Step. We've just started back up again. This time it's salsa! Fast and flashy!
But when it is slow, the connection between us while swaying is intoxicating. The setting’s as varied as one could imagine: a village piazza in Tuscany after lunch, a grassy promontory in Ireland, outside the cathedral at Notre Dame. What a night!
Our dinner was an early affair by Parisian standards. (We were seated at 9:15pm.) As we mulled our selection of possible gastronomies, I looked up and realized we were seated with a view of the cathedral across the river Seine. At about 11:45 p.m., we departed the tiny restaurant on foot to walk and take in this visually inspiring piece of architecture.
Upon arriving at a street corner across from the now-closed gates of Our Lady, my lover pulled from his sport jacket pocket his IPhone and a small, palm-sized speaker. He set them carefully in the crack of a 500-year-old wall and put on the first of many playlists. After a few sexy West Coast Swing songs, we slowed it down even more with some Night Club Two Step numbers. Think Etta James, Michael Buble or Norah Jones musical styles. We finished with a couple of hot rhumbas under the midnight lights of Notre Dame as other couples looked on.
We were truly dancing the vertical expression of our horizontal desires.
I
dare you to find this in a movie. Email me through the website if you do. I’ll
send you a copy of Just Keep Your Panties On when it’s published. www.vickilevin.com www.molokaicondorental.com
Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency www.loiaconoliteraryagency.com
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