Chapter 26

Monday night. Stan was late – he’d been pulled into a ‘five to five’ meeting with Percy, much to his annoyance - and didn’t get home until well after his normal time. He hurried, but Anne still rang his doorbell before he’d finished getting dressed.

“Come in, Anne!” he called, and Anne used her key to open the door. She found Stan sitting at the bottom of the stairs, bare-chested, with one sock on and trying to get the other one on his still-damp foot. She couldn’t help but laugh, and Stan saw the funny side too, but they were late leaving.

Anne provided the solution - she drove. Well, that is to say, Anne piloted her car. She seemed unaffected by Stan’s grimaces, the tension in his arms or the frequent use of the non-existent brake pedal his foot was continually searching for.

On the other hand, Stan had to admit that Anne drove with great skill. Even in the gathering gloom of a mid-September evening the car was expertly placed in exactly the right place at all times. Anne didn’t even have to exceed the speed limits – much.

They arrived at the school a few minutes early. Stan sighed theatrically and Anne turned to him and said sweetly, “That’s how you drive a sports car, Stan. I told you we’d get here in time!”

Stan was wise enough not to make any further comment.

They walked in through the main entrance and were greeted by Yves. Stan was pleased and relieved to find that the greeting was just as warm as always. Anne’s black-and-gold dress that she wore again may have had something to do with it, but Stan imagined Yves was too professional to pay too much attention to that.

They went through the normal formalities and Yves invited them through. His one concession to the previous week was when he told Anne, quietly, “Miss Bottomley and Mr. Orbison are here already.” He said no more, merely gesturing them on.

Stan let Anne go in front of him through the doorway into the hall, and they both looked to see who was there. Stan quickly located Tom and Denise, to their left, and was a little surprised to see Denise catch his eye and nod slightly. Tom merely gave him one of his trademark smirks.

Having found Denise and Tom on the left, Stan wasn’t surprised to see Pamela on the other side. She greeted Stan warmly, and gave Anne a peck on the cheek. Belinda was there as well, in the middle of the hall, preparing music.

Yves entered the hall and moved to Belinda, exchanging a few words. Then, before he began the lesson, Yves addressed them all.

“The Tango is a very passionate dance, in its original form it was about prostitutes and their pimps, very, very sexual. It’s progressed since then of course, but still, it’s full of emotion and sensuality, of exaggerated moves and, yes, plain lust.” He nodded at them all as he finished that last part.

“Now, in this beginner’s class we’re only going to teach the basic moves, what we call the Eight-Count Basic. This is actually technically American Tango, not the international ballroom type, but since I doubt any of you are expecting to compete in the next two weeks, that won’t matter, and it’s easier, we think, to learn – and to teach!”

“But remember, everyone,” interjected Belinda, “the Tango is theatre, you have to let yourselves go, to feel it. That’s why we teach it last, so that you’re already used to dance, to movement. Now, I think we’re ready to start?”

Before the lesson proper began, Yves came over to Stan and Anne, and spoke to them.

“I hope you realize that with you four we’re taking a bit of a chance, hmm? This is a dance step that requires emotion; but it has to be controlled emotion. Please, no repetition, yes?”

Anne nodded, and Stan told him “That’s fine, Yves. There’ll be no problems.”

Stan looked over and saw that Belinda was talking to Tom and Denise, who had serious faces of their own. It appeared that they’d received a similar message.

- - - - - - - - - -

Yves and Belinda showed the class how to Tango. Eight-Count Basic Tango is the classic ‘slow, slow, quick-quick, slow’ that everyone’s heard of. It’s actually more like ‘walk, walk, step-step-together’, but it’s not the steps, it’s the character of the dance that’s important. Feet are picked up and placed onto the floor using a sharp staccato action. Sway, rise & fall, and continuous body flight should be avoided; they aren’t in character with the dance.

Stan found it difficult. Not the steps, they were easy once he’d got used to it, but relaxing into it, letting his body lead. Belinda came and partnered him for a while, and with her encouragement and gentle persuasion he began to see, and feel, what was needed.

At one point he was able to spare a glance when Anne, partnered by a guy Stan didn’t know well but who’d been to each of the lessons, danced across their path. She was clearly enjoying herself, but didn’t look much more comfortable than Stan.

At the break, Anne said to Stan, “I’d thought with the ballet that this would be easy. It’s not – I just find it difficult to get the right balance of tension and relaxation, I think.”

“You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you? That’s my Anne, analysing everything,” Stan replied with a smile.

“Hey, it helps if you can think, you know!”

Stan and Anne hadn’t actively avoided Tom and Denise, but it certainly seemed to have turned out that way. Stan stole a glance over towards the pair, to find Tom standing next to Denise, one hand resting on her hip, while Denise was in agitated conversation with another lady. Denise looked happy, and Stan was pleased to see that.

He didn’t notice Anne watching him.

The second half of the lesson was very much like a repeat of the first. Stan still found it hard to get the right snap to his moves, while Anne was, herself, getting a little frustrated.

Towards the end Stan and Anne were able to partner each other. Stan found that dancing the Tango with someone who you connect with was a greater experience than even dancing with Belinda. They blended better together, and Stan was even able to execute a snappy layback at the end. They stood and clapped with everyone as Belinda and Yves showed how thrillingly it could be done, then wished everyone a good night and hurried out to Anne’s car.

They passed Denise and Tom on the way out. Stan noticed that Denise looked happy and a little flushed. 

Tom had a wolf’s smile.

Anne was ahead of him, pulling his arm, so Stan couldn’t stop to ask Denise anything. Not that he could think what to ask, just that he wanted to ask her something…

But then he was outside in the cooler air. Anne, laughing, pulled him to her car, almost running to it.

Anne drove home quickly. Stan was, again, tense and a little white knuckled, but they got to his house in a very short time. He was a bit surprised when Anne turned the engine off and got out with him, but got the idea when she leant close and told him in a low purr, “Inside, Stan. Now!”

She quickly walked up the path. Stan fumbled in his pocket for the key, only to see Anne holding up her shiny new one, and unlock the door.

“Fix us some drinks while I freshen up, please, Stan?” she called as she walked quickly up the stairs.

Stan went to the kitchen and got some glasses and a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “I’ve only got a cheap Frascati, Anne!” he called, but Anne didn’t answer, so he shrugged and put it on a tray anyway along with a shot glass and a tumbler of water.

In the living room Stan went to his drinks cabinet. ‘I fancy a change’ he thought to himself. He selected a Talisker, from the Isle of Skye. 

He went to the stereo and put on something new he’d found, the eponymously titled “Wolfmother”. The hard edged rock poured out of the speakers, and he turned the volume down, caught between wishing he could turn it up and wishing Anne would be here.

Then there  she was… her hands came around from behind him to embrace him as Anne nuzzled into his neck. He turned in her grasp and they kissed, hungrily.

“Mmm. What’s got into you?” he asked, as they swayed together.

“I’ve discovered that dancing the Tango makes me horny!” Anne giggled, continuing, “Do you have any music for a Tango, Stan? I fancy dancing up a storm, with you!”

Stan smiled. “Wait a moment,” he said, and turned back to his CD collection.

“You do realize that you could put that whole collection onto a single MP3 player, don’t you?” she told him, as he searched through for a disc.

“Yes, but they… Umm. I was about to sound like my father. He told me that these new CD’s didn’t sound like the good old vinyl, you know! But you’re right, I could. Mind you, I’d still want the CD – partly as primary source and partly for the artwork, in some of the cases at least. Aha!”

Stan held aloft the CD of ballroom dance music he’d bought back in July. “Yup! This has got half a dozen Tango tracks!”

Stan’s living room was small and cluttered, and difficult to dance in, so it wasn’t long before they fell, laughing, onto the couch. Stan stopped laughing and kissed Anne.

Anne kissed him right back. He felt her hand behind his head, pulling him to her, and his own arm, trapped underneath them, squeezed and pulled in response. Anne’s tongue wormed its way into his mouth, duelling with his own, and Stan started to lose himself in the sensations, overwhelmed by the scent, the feel, the taste of the woman in his arms.

Anne pulled away, blowing a stray strand of hair way from her mouth, looking at Stan wide-eyed. Standing, she reached for the zip of her dress and pulled it down, shimmying as she did, the dress pooling like oil at her feet. Seeing Stan’s face, she grinned a moment and threw a cliché model’s pose, right hand behind head, left at her hip, throwing her body into a figure ‘S’. Standing there in a lacy black half-bra and matching panties, her blonde hair in complete contrast to the outfit, Stan was once again struck by her beauty.

One eyebrow lifted. Anne queried, “Are you going to join me, or…?” Stan lost his balance as he tried to stand up and take off his shirt and tie all at the same time, which gave Anne a fit of giggles, and then she stretched out a hand for him. Once he was standing, Anne reached for his tie, deftly removing it before undoing his shirt buttons.

She was swaying in front of him now, in time to the music that was still playing. Stan responded by moving with her, while giving her space in which to work, placing his hands on Anne’s hips. He leaned in to give her a kiss, and she responded before nudging him gently back as she continued to unbutton his shirt.

After the front was undone, Anne reached down and unfastened each of Stan’s cufflinks, before removing the shirt altogether. Stan faked a pose of his own, both hands behind his head, his stomach tightened in a futile attempt to reduce the slight paunch. Anne giggled a little again, and Stan smiled, then Anne’s hands were at his belt, undoing it and drawing it through the loops slowly, before dropping it on top of his shirt on the floor beside him. A few seconds later his trousers were on the floor, and Stan was trying, unsuccessfully, to remove them while still wearing his shoes.

Anne, giggling a little, removed her remaining clothing while he sat on his sofa. Stan tore off his shoes leaving them tangled in his trousers, before drawing off each sock in a single pull and finally taking off his briefs.

Anne swayed over to him before sinking to all fours and spreading his knees apart. Her hand reached for his groin and took his erect penis, gripping it lightly and stroking, gently at first. She looked up at Stan, said “Time to christen the living room, I think!” and slurped him into her mouth.

Stan reached forward with both hands, gently stroking the side of her head and her ears, as Anne went to work on his cock. He was so turned on, and now the blonde was working her way slowly, slowly further and further down his penis before lifting, sucking and swirling her tongue and then repeating the action. Stan knew he’d not be lasting long like this. Dancing with Anne had been an unbelievably sexy experience; he thought they were both pent up and now needed release.

However, Anne was having none of that, he soon found. As he began to lift his hips, trying to thrust more of himself in her mouth, she stopped, gripping him tightly at the base. Anne waited for him to subside before looking up with a devilish grin on her face, and then she started again.

“God!” was all that Stan could say as he felt Anne’s tongue on his now sensitive glans. He flinched slightly, and Anne stopped that, instead running her tongue down the underside of his penis, jacking slowly, sensuously with the right hand, leaning on her left for support.

Anne couldn’t manage to take his whole length, but she tried mighty hard to go as far as she could this time. She hunched over him to vary the angle, finally stopping as she gagged, then gagged again, using her hand to set the depth now as her head went back up his penis, her lips dragging and her cheeks hollowing. Before the downstroke Anne’s lips opened a little wider and then closed around the head, still avoiding the glans, before she moved down, down again.

Now Anne went to work in earnest. Her head bobbed and her hand moved at the lower end of his cock, drawing him towards his climax. This time as she felt his hips buck she pulled up on his cock slightly, jacking with her hand, sucking and now swirling her tongue again.

Stan erupted. There was no other word for it, and he had no conscious control over his body as he heaved his hips up, feeling his semen jetting into Anne’s willing, nay anxious mouth.

Finally Stan subsided back onto his sofa, spent. Anne waited for him to open his eyes and look before she swallowed, finally climbing up onto the sofa next to him. Stan took her in his arms and they kissed. He tasted his semen on her lips, in her mouth, and found it incredibly erotic.

“Hmmm. I think it’s my turn now,” he told her as he pushed her back onto the sofa. Anne pushed her hips forward and opened her legs as Stan slid to his knees between them. Anne was very turned on, a fact which Stan was able to verify instantly. Her arousal had her almost gushing. Stan tasted his beautiful lady again, running his tongue lightly over her pubic hair, gathering the dew.

He placed his hands on her inner thighs, spreading her a little more as he quested further with his tongue. He nibbled with his lips, he deliberately bumped with his nose, he played games with his tongue, always moving over her. He licked at the crease between her inner and outer labia, then ran his tongue down to her portal and tasted there some more, gathering her moisture and bringing it up towards her now swollen clitoris.

He flicked his tongue up, lightly catching it before swirling around her aroused and stiffened organ. He went back down, playing figure eights with his tongue, moving his head from side to side, using his whole face from chin to nose to increase her arousal. He kept at it, sometimes running his tongue down to gather more of her juices, then working his way up to the erect nubbin, teasingly almost-but-not-quite touching it directly for a moment or two before stimulating it with his tongue again.

Anne stiffened and cried out sharply for a moment, then her thighs crushed together, before she relaxed, releasing his head. Stan looked up, finding her eyes still unfocussed, and with a grin leant forward again.

Anne’s startled cry of “Oh!” rang out as Stan began to lift her back up the slope again. This time he used both hands, raising one up to play with her breasts, caressing each of them, while with his other hand he worked a finger inside her, slowly, slowly, twisting it back and forth, wiggling a little. Stan was discovering what worked and what didn’t with Anne, and he’d already found that he could work her up this way, as well as the very wonderful ability of hers to come more than once.

Anne hadn’t come all the way down from her first, and it wasn’t long before Stan brought her back up to another. This time he barely stopped at all, instead he merely moved to just licking and playing with her labia and breasts for a short while. Then she felt him again, his chin resting on the finger he’d reinserted, then lifting slightly as he raised his aim to go over the clitoris and stimulate from above it, swirling his tongue around it as she’d done to his penis.

It didn’t take her long to cum, and cum hard. Again she felt herself clenching, she cried out involuntarily and for a moment lost herself… then as she came back to life she found Stan still hard at work between her legs. Anne was too sensitive now though, and she pushed him away with a whimper and rolled to one side.
Stan was at first, it seemed, determined, but Anne held him off, wide-eyed, murmuring “no, no…” before he allowed her to settle and bask in her own afterglow.

Stan crawled up onto the couch, his mouth and neck exhausted, but feeling very happy indeed. Once more he marvelled at how much he loved seeing Anne in orgasm, and how much more he loved bringing her there.

For a while they cuddled there on the sofa. Finally, however, Stan stirred and got up to fix a drink each – something long, cool and non-alcoholic, he thought. Some fruit squash would do fine. He padded into the kitchen – drawing the blinds when he realized his neighbours would be able to see in – and got some ice into two glasses, poured the squash and topped up with water from the filter in the fridge.

Anne was just about sitting up when Stan emerged from the kitchen, holding the glasses. Wordlessly he handed one over and they both took a long honest swig before he sat down next to the woman he loved.

“I guess I don’t have to ask how you feel about the Tango!” he said. Anne just swatted at him with the back of her left hand.

- - - - - - - - - -

At the same time, not very far away, a similar scenario was unfolding. Similar, but not the same…

“Denise, you know how I feel about you. You’re perfect!”

“Yes, Tom, and I feel a lot for you too, you know that.”

They were in Denise’s living room, Tom on her sofa, Denise standing in front of him, handing him a drink. Denise was holding her Vodka Lemon in her other hand.

She swivelled and sat next to Tom, who leaned over and kissed her cheek before sipping his own Rum and Coke.

They sat for a moment sipping their drinks before Tom asked, “Can you put some music on please, Denise?”

Denise found a channel on the radio that they could both stand, and when she sat back again Tom leaned in and kissed her on the lips. It was insistent, urgent and Denise moaned into his mouth as she responded.

She took over the kiss, leaning into it and taking Tom’s hand in hers. Then she pulled back, carefully setting her drink down on the table beside the sofa. Denise had to make a decision now – before things went too far, assuming they hadn’t already. 

“Tom, what sort of relationship are you expecting?”

Tom sat back and looked at Denise, obviously surprised at the question.

“Well,” he replied after a moment, “A physical one, certainly, Den. Are you asking if I want to be more than just a boyfriend already?”

“No, of course not…well, yes. No. Oh, stop it! You’ve got it wrong. Look, I don’t just do casual, okay? If all you want’s a roll in the hay, then I’m not the one you’ll get it with.”

“I can do more than just casual, Den. I can do lots more. If you want something that’s longer-lasting, I can do that, you know.”

At that point Tom leaned over and kissed her again, and Denise became lost in the sensuality of the kiss, of the moment, of the aftermath of the dancing. She wanted, needed someone, and Tom was here, he was now, and… his hand was on her breast, his kiss was expertly winding her up.

All else faded for Denise as her body responded faster than her mind. Tom was insistent and Denise became compliant, letting him roam over her body, still fully dressed but now finding places where skin-on-skin contact was possible, and sending thrills through her.

She felt his fingers on the catch of her dress, and then the last moment had passed, as she felt the fabric part as the zip came down.

Denise moaned into Tom’s mouth, felt his fingers knowingly stroke the skin on her back and moaned some more. He knew exactly the right moves, exactly the right amount of pressure to use. He skilfully manoeuvred her with subtle pressure to lean forward so he could ease the dress down, and then flicked the catch on her bra one-handed. He muttered in appreciation as her breasts came into view then, breaking the kiss, bent down to instead kiss their upper slopes.

His left hand came into contact with a nipple, ratcheting up her arousal even further. Now Denise didn’t just give in, didn’t just let him take her; she was willing and took full part in their lovemaking. She egged him on and he did, there on her sofa. She managed the presence of mind to make sure he reached into his wallet to extract a condom. Tom was a skilful lover, more so than she’d guessed, and before long she was shuddering in her orgasm as he was thrusting inside her. He came, grunting and panting in his lust, and Denise felt his penis swelling inside her, felt the condom filling, felt everything.

Tom fell away from her. Denise realized she hadn’t noticed him undress; yet they were both nude in her living room. Tom got his breath back, and then he reached for his clothes, discarded here and there on the floor where they’d been flung. Still neither of them had said an intelligible word since Tom’s earlier declaration.

Denise reached for her underwear before she leaked more onto her couch. Tom dressed, reached for Denise and finally said in a low, almost commanding voice, “I’ll see you again Friday shall I, Denise? I’ll pick you up here.”

“Yes,” Denise replied, kissing him. He accepted a short kiss then was standing, turning, going. Just before he opened her door Tom said, “Bye, Denise,” somehow stretching out the last part of her name into an almost-hiss, and then he was gone.

- - - - - - - - - -