One of the forms of dancing I quite like, though I'm not particularly experienced at, is contra dancing. At a dance festival last February, I found myself doing a fair amount of contra, with a fair number of partners.
One partner...he was *good*. Not just at the dance, and all the little twirls and flourishes the male partners tend to throw in, but at moving, at matching me, at being a true gentleman. Reengergized, after the dance, I asked him to waltz. As we drew closer and closer, I decided to take a leap. "Would it be terribly impudent to ask to kiss you?"
He smiled. We kissed, and parted ways.
A later festival, the end of April. We remeet, and discover that we are quite near to one another --only a few blocks apart. That festival, we hardly get to dance, but we make plans, to attend the regular contra dance in the area together. The night arrives, and yes, the dancing is just as good. (But you of course don't care somuch about that, now do you?)
Sitting in his car, parked outside my house. We kiss, which leads to further kissing, and further. Near an hour, and all the debate of "we should really part ways" that often comes with such joyful madness. Nothing more than kissing, not this time. He is, like I said, a true gentleman.
"I have to return home for the summer" I tell him. He assures me it's alright. We'll just have to see what happens in September, when I'm back to my true home. At the very least, we've been chatting regularly.
Of course...he's in the city closest to me on Monday. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe everything will. Regardless, I'm quite interested to see him again. Messer Gentleman.