….for those of you who haven’t read much of my blog before. This post is a continuation of my memoirs which start from https://jiltaroo.wordpress.com/2012/08/08/galloping-feet-on-a-lonely-road-2/. The most recent post before this one was https://jiltaroo.wordpress.com/2012/09/06/denise-friendship-loyalty-and-redemption/
Although my life had obviously now changed for the better, I had the clarity and desire to make even more positive changes. I was, I guess, directionless at this point; so I started to scour the paper in “positions vacant” for a better job.
One thing I have always enjoyed immensely, and been fascinated by, is dance. When I was very young, my parents took me to ballet lessons. For some reason, although I did well in my first exam, I didn’t continue with this art until I was in year 12. It was an effective outlet for me but I stopped again at the end of the year but the need to dance has stayed with me from there on.
One of the jobs that peaked my interest was as a ballroom and Latin dance teacher in Melbourne. I called and after some initial discussion, was invited in for an interview. Although my experience did not extend to this form of dance, training was to be provided and I was offered the position.
I remember my first nervous attempt at teaching a group beginners’ class. I was terrified that someone would recognise the fact that my knowledge was only one step beyond theirs. Nevertheless, I soon realized that by presenting myself as a professional both in posture and composure, my students would be none the wiser. It wasn’t long before I was well beyond one step in front of my class, and my confidence no longer needed to be feigned.
As well as holding group lessons, I was also required to teach private lessons. For professional reasons, all the dance instructors were expected to fabricate a “Nom de Dance”, so I was known by my students as Miss Stevens. It was also mandatory to refer to our students as Mr, Miss or Mrs.
One afternoon, a new student was allocated to me; Mr Burns. He walked up the stairs to the studio and we made our introductions, recorded his preliminary details and discussed his expectations and goals. From the first moment I saw Mr Burns, I found it difficult to hold his gaze. I was aware that he was immensely attractive to me, and exhuded a quiet confidence that made my heart rhythms stutter and my face flush.
We commenced the first class and started with the basic steps of a modern waltz. I discovered that Mr Burns was studying a martial art called “Hapkido” and wished to improve on his balance and flow through dance. He was respectful and kind and I anticipated his next lesson with impatient distraction and a flutter in my chest.
After our second lesson, I still felt embarrassed to look into eyes. I felt sure that my attraction for him would be discovered and the professional cover of “Miss Stevens” would be melted away in all but one gaze. Much to my surprise, it was Mr Burns who was to break the spell. Quietly and evenly, he asked if I would like to meet for coffee in my lunch break and although I knew it to be against company policy, I was unable to decline his invitation.
We met later, around the corner in a little coffee shop. The vintage tables lined the wall and my heart skipped a beat to see him patiently waiting for me. Later, he admitted that he was sure that I would not come and had resigned him self to disappointment. His humility always surprised and enchanted me.
As Mr Burns didn’t actually drink coffee, I sipped at mine as we awkwardly began to get to know each other outside the boundaries of our pseudonyms. I was amused to find that he as much a Mr Burns as I was Miss Stevens and we laughed easily at the absurd formality of it all. Vorn, as I now knew him, tentatively suggested that we go to a movie together and we set a date for the next Saturday afternoon.
I love the movie “Dirty Dancing”, and I’m sure I would have regardless of who I had seen it with. However, the memory of the strong and dependable character played by Patrick Swayze, the music, dancing and romance seemed to be a prelude to what was to develop between us.
Vorn invited me home and against my usual judgement, I accepted nervously. We caught a tram back to his St Kilda flat at the pretense of a beer. The almost palpable energy of longing between us spoke more than words or touch.
His first kiss was soft and unassuming but as he sensed my willingness, it became more inquiring and passionate. When we finally parted our seeking lips to take our senses deeper, I was enticed by the clean taste of his mouth and the delicate flicks of his smooth tongue. Every second felt sensual and meaningful and we slowly sunk to the floor in a rapture of dream-like desire.
On the way home, I reflected on the events of the evening, I felt enveloped by a magic never experienced or anticipated by me before. I had no way of knowing what was to come, but I knew we would meet again soon and I smiled with the memory of his scent and the quiver of my skin under his unhurried touch.