One of my favorite moves is to turn my partner around so she faces away from me. I cross her arms across her abdomen as I turn her and end up embracing her with my arms, and she has to move wherever I guide her. Most women usually love it. It's not quite as intimate as some of the grinding moves, but it can be very sexy.
Salsa itself is a very sexy dance, but it took an unusual intermediate dance class for me to realize just HOW sexy Salsa can be. That class included three girls from a local college who had convinced Gloria to let them skip the Beginner Salsa class. They weren't ready for Intermediate Salsa. But they were cute, so all the other guys didn't mind dancing with them.
Now, in those days (she has since expanded the curriculum), Gloria normally taught her intermediate classes a "shine". A shine is a move you can do by yourself, but which your partner can also do, to give both partners a chance to do some freestyle dancing. The men's shine for that class was fairly simple, but I don't recall ever using it in a club.
That is because the women's shine was just out of this world.
I don't think any of the women in that class ever tried to use that month's shine in a club, either. The mating frenzy it should have inspired would have made newspaper headlines across the world.
For their shine, the women pivoted in a circle on one leg (extending the other leg outward), sort of thrusting their shoulders (and hence their breasts) forward in a rhythmic fashion. Gloria asked me to lead the men through their steps in practice, so I said, "Okay guys, let's go." I had finished two repetitions of the shine when I realized no one was following me.
I stopped and looked around. Gloria was leading the girls through their grinding circular shine. All the other men just stood in a hunched up group, staring at the women. While Gloria always dresses stylishly but modestly for her classes, those three college girls were wearing tight shorts and t-shirts And, naturally, the men were just standing there with their mouths hanging open.
For me, the urge to dance is as primal as the need to breathe. When I hear a beat I like, I have to move to it. Many women will just cut loose when they hear music. Men mostly like to just sit around and watch (evolutionists claim it's because our male ancestors used to have to wait quietly in the bushes for hours on end
|
while hunting). A man who can move to the music is a man apart.
My nieces love (and hate) to go driving with me because, if I listen to any kind of music I enjoy, I'm liable to start dancing right there in the car. And I am usually the one driving. One day, while I was taking a niece across Florida, this guy pulled up beside us in a pickup truck. He must have been at least 50 years old. He asked my niece to roll down her window, and I insisted she do so. She just wanted to crawl under the seat and hide. "You're having too much fun!" he said, leering at my niece. The weirdo perv....
However, there are times when it is indeed better for the man to sit and watch.
For example, one night my friends and I went to Elvia's Cantina. During a break in the band's performance, the usual CD music came on. But then a song started playing that, at first, I thought was kind of a weird Hip Hop Merengue (they actually play such songs around here -- they may be Reggaeton songs, for all I know). This song had what I would describe as a strong African beat. I have no idea of what song it was, but it sounded something like the "Macarena" on steroids. I remember thinking briefly, "I could dance to that! What kind of step would I do?"
About that time, I noticed the dance floor was filling up with girls. And I mean these were beautiful, young, tight-dress, form-fitting blue jeans, sexy, come-and-get-it girls with bulging curves in all the right places. In about five seconds, they formed up three lines and started dancing right in front of me. There must have been about 30 girls out there.
I was totally lost in the moment. For a while, I couldn't take my eyes off the dance floor, but eventually I realized one of my friends was yelling at me over the music. "Michael!" she cried. "Michael! Pick your girl!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"They are all dancing for you!" she yelled, pointing at the girls. And they WERE dancing for me. I could feel the jealous eyes of every man in the place glaring at me. Those girls were all trying to make eye contact with me. They were as lost in the music and the moment as I was in their dance. To this day, I feel like all I would have had to do was point at one and she would have been mine for the rest of the night.
Those girls were doing their absolute total single-minded best to show me the goods. They danced sideways, turned around, danced sideways in the opposite direction, turned around again, and started all over. Shoulders dipped. Hips swirled. Breasts rose and fell. Rear ends bounced and things jiggled all over the place.
NEXT PAGE
|
