Chapter 1: Introduction
When my husband told me he coudn't come to the dance class today, I thought of staying at home. We had signed up for the class to dance together, and we didn't want me to dance with another man. But we thought that usually there are more women than men at the class, and the teacher would put me to dance with another woman, which was acceptable for my husband.
So, I decided to go.
The dance studio was almost dark, the only light coming from the neon sign that read "Salsa Nights" hanging above the mirror wall. The air was thick with the scent of new dance shoes and the faint aroma of last night's perfume. A line of students stood by the barre, stretching and chatting. I spotted an empty space and quickly claimed it, trying to avoid any awkward small talk.
As the instructor, a tall, lanky man with a thick Cuban accent, started the class, I noticed him pairing people up.
I was secretly glad for the darkness that hid my blush as he pointed at me and said, "Rebeca, you're with Max." I looked around, expecting to see a woman named Max, but instead, a tall, handsome man with short brown hair and dark eyes raised his hand. He was muscular, his t-shirt stretching across his chest, and he flashed a confident smile. "Guess it's just you and me, Rebeca," he said, his voice a low rumble.
The instructor began the class with some basic steps, explaining and demonstrating each move. Max and I followed along, our bodies moving in sync as we learned the rhythm. I tried to focus on the dance, on the instructor's voice, but my eyes kept flicking to Max's reflection in the mirror. He caught me looking and grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
I felt a spark of attraction, a warmth that spread from my core to my cheeks. I quickly looked away, focusing on the instructor's hands as he demonstrated the next step. Max's hand brushed against mine as we moved, and I could feel the electricity between us. I tried to ignore it, to concentrate on the dance, but my heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel the heat of his body against mine.
The instructor moved us into a more intimate position, his hands guiding us closer. Max's breath was warm on my neck as he leaned in, his voice a low whisper in my ear. "You're a natural, Rebeca," he said, his hand resting on my waist. I could feel the heat of his touch through my clothes, and I shivered. "Thank you," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. The instructor clapped his hands, bringing us back to the present.
"Now, let's try a more intimate step," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Max's hand slid lower, his fingers brushing against my hip. I felt a jolt of electricity, my breath hitching in my throat. I tried to focus on the dance, on the rhythm of the music, but Max's touch was distracting. His hand moved lower still, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip, and I felt a wave of heat wash over me. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with surprise and desire. He smiled, his thumb tracing a circle on my skin. "You're beautiful, Rebeca," he whispered, his voice low and husky. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I should pull away, should tell him to stop, but his touch was intoxicating.
The instructor's voice faded into the background as Max's hand moved lower, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip. I could feel his breath on my neck, his body pressed close to mine. The music seemed to slow, the world around us fading away as we moved in sync, our bodies pressed together. I could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles against my softness. His hand moved lower still, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of my thigh. I shivered, my breath catching in my throat. He looked at me, his eyes dark with desire, and I felt a wave of heat wash over me. I knew I should pull away, should tell him to stop, but I couldn't. I wanted this, wanted him. I wanted to feel alive, to feel desired. So, I let him lead, let him guide me through the dance, our bodies moving in a sensual rhythm.
I was vaguely aware of the instructor watching us, his eyes narrowing as he took in our intimate stance. Max's hand was low on my back, his fingers splayed, pulling me close. "Hmm, you make a nice couple indeed. But in this part the woman has to dance alone. Rebeca remember to move your hips."
In this part I had to move my chest in front of the man and then the hip, my big ass moving under my tight dress. My husband enjoyed this part in previous classes, but now I had to do it for Max.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the attention. Max's gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto mine as I began to move. I felt a flush of heat spread across my cheeks, but I kept my eyes on his, determined not to look away. The instructor's voice faded into the background as I focused on the rhythm of the music, letting it guide my hips in a sensual sway. Max's eyes darkened as he watched me, his gaze never wavering. I could feel the heat of his stare, the intensity of his desire, and it emboldened me. I let my body move freely, my hips swaying in time with the beat, my chest rising and falling with each breath. Max's eyes followed my every movement, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His hand, which had been guiding me, lingered on my waist, his fingers splayed, pulling me closer. I could feel his breath on my neck, his body tense against mine. I tried to focus on the dance, on the instructor's voice, but Max's touch was distracting. His thumb began to trace small circles on my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He smiled, his eyes dark with hunger. "You're incredible, Rebeca," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Alright, let's try something new," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.