Movement has been my life. Even as a young boy, all I wanted to do was to jump around, to leap, to express myself with my body. So it was natural that my parents enrolled me for dance lessons. I was one of few boys among a lot of girls. And as I matured, my rarity became even more pronounced. I was straight, in a calling that attracts many gay men. Sort of an ugly duckling I suppose.
It’s just that I like women’s bodies, their curves, and the flirtatious way they interact with men. I joined all the dance companies I could find, in high school, in college, and now after graduation, in a community dance troupe. And I was fine that the girls assumed that I was gay. That belief made them more comfortable around me, almost inculcating me into their world as an honorary girl. They would not shield their bodies from me, as (they presumed) I was not aroused by them. I dated women, but not those in the dance companies; relationships with those with whom you danced could get complicated, especially if the relationship soured.
Our dance director was a student of dance, who drilled us on the subtleties of movement. He was especially focused on how men and women move and react differently. One’s gender informs all aspects of how we express physicality, without our ever giving it much thought. If you saw a darkened, silhouetted figure moving about, 9 times out of 10, you’d know if it were a man or woman by the gait and sway of the body.
In one our workshops, the director decided to drill home the point. He said he’d select two dancers, one man, one woman, to engage in a series of the same dance movements, side by side.
“I want you to observe their bodies as they move, as they jump, as they sway,” he said. “Because of how a woman’s breasts move, because of the angle of a woman’s pelvis, because of how differently weight is distributed on a woman’s body, she will execute the same dance step slightly different than a man.”
“The man, similarly, because of the heavy musculature on the chest, by his weight structure, and by his unconscious need to always protect his genitals, responds in his unique way.”
He continued. “After both demonstrators have performed, each male dancer in the class will replicate the dance moves as if he had a woman’s body. And each woman will move as if she were a man. So study the dancers carefully.”
He then dropped an unexpected twist. “Each demonstrator will perform in the nude, so the subtlety of each sex’s movement will be on full display.”
Now, nudity in a dance company is viewed differently than in most settings. When wearing leotards, a dancer’s body is mostly revealed. The curve of the breasts, the nipples, the notorious “camel toe” of the women’s outfit, as well as the shape of a man’s genitals in his leotard, are conspicuous. And a few of our choreography pieces already involved some nudity --- more on that shortly. So the request was not as scandalous as it would be in another profession. But we’re not carved out of stone or immune to attraction to the human body. Everyone was a little excited.
“Daniel, you’ll be the male lead,” he said to me. The other male dancers, who were gay, smiled. They might enjoy this demonstration more than the women. The female dancer was a lovely girl from Israel, Shoshana, with a dark complexion, beautiful skin, and a slim dancer’s body with full breasts. I always admired her, and we were friends. But as I said, I never took my interest outside the studio.
The two of us met at the center of the studio. We each were to perform one of our standard duets, with which we were both well familiar. I stripped off my t-shirt and removed my shorts. I stood in my briefs. Shoshana peeled off her top, and then her bra. We looked a little sheepishly at each other.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, trying to be nonchalant.
I stripped off my briefs and stood naked. I felt naked in both the physical and emotional sense. Nudity in front of a group is a strange sensation, especially when they are all dressed and 20+ sets of eyes are looking firmly at your privates.
Shoshana dropped her shorts and then the panties. She had a lovely mass of auburn hair covering her vulva.
She whispered to me, “I’m a little embarrassed; I would have shaved if I knew I was going to be on display.”
“You look great,” I said, and meant it.
The music started and we began the dance movements. There were leaps, spirals, laterals, all the common movements of modern dance. Shoshana’s breasts bounced as she spun, my penis flopped as I executed kicks. Never had I been more conscious of how my body moved – or how hers did. I guess that was the point of the exercise.
When we finished, the class applauded. We both got dressed, and shared a smile with each other.
After the class ended, Shoshana came up to me. I guess we had formed a bond, like having a shared secret. Although this secret had been on full display to the world.
“Would you like to get a drink?” she asked.
“I guess I could use one after this class,” I replied.
We went to a local watering hole.
She spoke first and laughed. “I don’t know who was more interested in your body, the other girls or the guys. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see everyone watching you. Hardly anyone was watching me.”
“Well, I’m happy for all admirers,” I said, not quite knowing what the proper reply was.
“I notice you don’t hang out with the guys much. You seem to like women’s company,” she said.
“That’s true.”
“So you’re not gay?” she asked.
“No, sorry. Disappointed?”
“Absolutely not. I wasn’t sure. But I never had the courage before – or the opportunity --- to ask.”
She went on. ‘You’re a beautiful dancer. You have exceptional grace, and a wonderful body. And I felt that way before today when all my expectations were confirmed.”
We both laughed over the joke. I confessed my admiration for her, but how I never acted on it as I feared complicating my dancing life.
“We’re both mature adults,” she said. “I’ve always stayed friends with all my ex boyfriends. Just because dating doesn’t work out, doesn’t mean people should be mean to each other.”
She reached out and took my hand. “We’ll always be friends; promise?”
My heart was racing. She was offering herself to me. She wanted me. My penis stirred. The touch of her hand caused more passion at that moment than when we were naked together.
We went back to the apartment Shoshana shared with another dancer in the company, Wendy. Wendy was out for the night so we had it to ourselves. This time, the clothes came off in a frenzy. I pulled her t-shirt over her head and kissed her neck. I unhooked the bra hooks while she tugged at my pants. The bra fell off. She knelt down to slide my pants off my feet. She grabbed my briefs and yanked them down. I pulled her shorts and panties down in one tug. We were both naked. Again. Only this time, I was erect, she was rubbing the back of my neck, I grabbed her buttocks and pulled her close to me. Those firm breasts pressed against my chest.