I LOVE square dancing!
Case in point, I'm a member of a square dance club in Mukilteo, Washington, on Puget Sound, about thirty miles North of Seattle. Last Friday night, the sixteenth of June the club had its tenth-anniversary dance, having invited the top woman caller in the state, Deborah Carroll.
Deborah is an amazing square dance caller and singer, performing across the country, but she wasn't what made this particular dance quite so outstanding, it was the dancers themselves. Well, one in particular. This club, the 'Sound Squares' (as in Puget Sound) is primarily adults, most aged from their twenties and up, with very few kids. Consequently, unlike most other dances I've attended, this club can get, shall I say, a bit 'risque'. The younger ladies' skirts are more often than not very short, held out by the full slips (petticoats), revealing the women's panties (pettipants in square dance lingo) when twirled.
This dance was more like a mini-festival with Deborah calling and sixteen squares of dancers (eight dancers per square). Most of the dancers were couples but there were many singles, too, both men and women, including me, with a badge identifying us as singles, making it easier to know who was looking for a dance partner.
My name's Jess, twenty-three. I've been square dancing since my parents, my big sister (two years older), and I learned when I was fourteen. It's a great way to meet people, girls especially, have fun, exercise, and sharpen one's mind trying to keep up with the caller and the other seven dancers in the square.
My problem is that I'm a very shy guy. Asking a pretty girl to dance has never come easy for me like it is for so many others. I originally learned with Jamie, my sister as my partner, but I've gotten to know several of our club members pretty well over the years, well enough to ask them to be my partner. But it's never gone further than that, I've never had the courage to ask any of our dancers for a date outside square dancing.
At this Friday night dance, my shyness was thrown for a loop that I wasn't sure I'd ever recover from. There was a young woman that I hadn't seen before, just holy-shit, fucking hot! I'm a crappy judge of age, but if I had to guess I'd have said somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Just watching her in a square with another guy made my heart pound, my palms sweaty, and my eyes bulge.
Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, wearing what looked like a silk or satin blouse, buttoned down the back to not distract from her very ample and completely unrestrained assets. Braless is not a thing in square dancing, which is why this aspect of her outfit was so surprising; and a skirt and flouncy slip combination showing off a lot of those long, sexy legs.
She was tall, probably nearly six feet with her high-heeled dancing shoes; long, coal-black, silky-looking hair down to the center of her back not quite to her waist; just about the sexiest legs I've ever seen; and on top of all that she was the most vivacious person I've ever seen, making every guy's head turn, kicking up her feet, laughing, smile lighting up the entire room, and when she twirled, flashing those hot pants, I mean pettipants, my heart almost stopped.
I had to close my eyes, take a breath, and try to pretend I hadn't noticed just how tiny they were. And, far as I was concerned, her best feature was the 'single' badge on her blouse right over one of those delectable, braless tits. Where had this girl been hiding herself?
I wanted to get in a square with her so damned bad it hurt. I asked one of my frequent partners, Marci, to dance the next tip. Each set of two dances, a 'pattern' set that the caller makes up as she goes and a pre-choreographed singing call, typically music from a popular country song, is called a 'tip' -- don't ask me why. Yeah, I know, pretty crappy to use Marci to get close to this Goddess, but I was desperate... and too shy to ask her outright.
Marci and I have always enjoyed dancing together, and there's nothing even remotely romantic between us. After all, she's married, her husband has a bad knee so can't dance. And I do know how old she is - fifty-one, three kids, all grown. I suppose all of that is what originally made me comfortable asking her to dance that first time way back when not long after she first started coming to our dances three years ago. Since then, I've been to their house for dinner several times and we're all good friends. They've kind of adopted me as a surrogate son since their 'kids' all live far out of town, not even in neighboring states.
But that was then, this is now. The way Marci looked at me when we followed the Goddess to a square, she knew exactly what I was doing, not that she seemed to mind. My dream girl was across from us with her partner, some slob-looking guy. Nah, I was just jealous of him, my first ever stab of jealousy toward a girl. Her name tag said her name was Karyn, no last name, just Karyn. What a fitting name for such a gorgeous creature, I thought. And there definitely was a 'single' badge over her left boob, right above her name tag.
She was holding the slob's hand, his name was Scott. How damned boring is that! We were waiting for the remainder of the squares to fill, Deborah pointing here and there for others to fill in. The whole time we waited, Karyn was bobbing her head back and forth, doing little part-twirls, and waving her arms, all in time with the music Deborah was playing, like she just couldn't stand being still for even a minute. God, she was so unlike anyone I'd ever danced with. I could hardly wait until the girls moved around the square changing partners and she was with me, even for a few seconds.
It isn't often that you see a girl square dancing with no bra. This was one of those times, her nipples making themselves obvious, clearly hard from excitement.
It wasn't long until Deborah put on different music and started in, "Bow to your partner, give your corner a little swing," in her beautiful sing-song voice. My corner was another younger girl, I'd guess mid-twenties, about my age, but nothing like the girl across the way.
We went through a series of moves between our corners and partners, and then with the opposite couple. I was actually holding hands with 'her', warm and so friggin' baby-soft. I didn't even try to imagine how soft other parts might be. I couldn't wait until I heard, 'swing your girl,' when she was my partner on my right. My square dance skill seemed to betray me completely, my feet and hands having no idea what they were supposed to do when close to her.
And then that fateful call when she was on my right, the partner position, "Weave the Ring, swing your partner." Around the square we went, girls clockwise, boys the opposite, slapping hands, girls doing their sexy little twirls as they passed each guy. My heart was pounding, anticipating... and then the swing. I gripped Karyn around her waist, my left, her right hands interlocking fingers; Karyn's left hand around my back, and pivoted, her kicking her feet out behind her, trusting me to support her, letting out a loud, "Yeehaw!" as we swung.
There were four more opportunities during that tip to swing my dream girl, each time a little more spirited. It seemed she was extra exuberant whenever she and I were together, but maybe that was just my hopeful imagination. She danced unlike anyone I'd ever seen with her exuberance. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said she'd been drinking, but drinking and square dancing do not go hand-in-hand. One must keep his/her wits about them to follow a fast-paced caller. When the tip was over, Marci knew exactly what was going on in my turbulent mind, whispering in my ear, "Now... ask her to dance the next one... she liked you."
I looked at Marci. "You really think so?" I asked her. It seemed to me that Karyn had liked everybody.
She rolled her eyes at me. "Ask. Her," was all she said. She knew just how bashful I was.
I watched Karyn for another little bit, trying to not be too obvious, before Marci gripped me around the waist, turned me toward her, and pushed. Karyn had already found her seat where she'd been sitting next to some other girls, chatting away. Her skirt and slip were well above her knees where she sat, her topside doing wonders for that blouse.
My heart was pounding as I walked toward her and her friends. I know that that 'single' badge is an invitation to ask, but still... I was a nervous wreck. I'd never asked anyone to dance who even remotely looked or danced like her. Hell, I'd never seen anyone like her. I glanced back at Marci, still watching and smiling, motioning with her fingers, 'go, go.'
