"Too many dicks on the dance floor." - Mr. Snapper (quoting Flight of the Conchords)
The first night of class there were so many women without partners. We missed the second night because I flew to Arkansas the next morning. The third night of class I was one of a few partners willing to swap and I was left in the corner pleasuring myself for a while. We missed the fourth night because of cooties. Last night there were three to five strange men waiting outside the door to the classroom with roughly three couples. I heard one of them say, "I heard there are a lot of women in this class." Apparently not all those women showed up. I don't know if these fellows were recruited from the upper level classes or if they put on their best khakis and slipped past the studio assistant at check-in. I do know that they were lined up in the back of the room at the beginning of the class like it was a junior high school ball. Somehow the ratio shifted over the past few weeks so there were more bros than hos.
"I'm stopping so I don't punch someone in the face." - Mr. Snapper
We didn't swap partners last night. I'm still coughing from last week's cooties invasion, and I felt it would be socially awkward to cough and then expect strange to want to dance with me. The class doubled in size from the beginning of the hour to the end. However, we were being hunted by other couples as we tried to work on the steps we learned two weeks ago. I don't know that anyone else was paying attention to where they were steering, but Mr. Snapper was hit twice and I was hit once and urged to dance within inches of the mirror because couples were coming at us from all directions. They weren't necessarily following the line of dance, just chasing us down like so many ghosts after the Pac Mans. Bumper Cars, the couple chasing us down in the past two classes, almost bumped into him at the end of the night. Just two more bars of music and the lady in the purple sweater would've been punched in the mouth by my partner.
Something else hilarious about last night's class was how difficult it was to get corrected as a couple by the instructor. I guess we were standing on the wrong side of the room for most of the class to get correction. (We weren't missing out on correction as a result of being amazing at the dance; the teacher was gone for the first ten or fifteen minutes of class while we "practiced what we learned" from previous weeks. Then he was just correcting people on the opposite side of the room no matter where we were. Maybe my coughing scared him away. Of course, that's not why we missed out on correction in the last class we attended since neither of us was sick.) The moment my beloved stopped because everyone was seemingly dancing at us was the moment the teacher decided to ask us if we had a question. Ha! We had a question about forty-five minutes earlier, then five minutes after that, then five minutes after that. What timing!
I'm so glad I have him to take along with me. I wonder what I'll need to do to bribe him to come to the last class with me. Maybe if I buy him some brass knuckles ...