Chapter 11: Tango Hall
Mark stood in front of Studio of Dance on Fifth Street. He looked at his watch. One forty-seven. The class started at two, where was Nannette.
He looked at his outfit of choice: Jeans, comfortable shoes, a tee-shirt, his zip-up jacket, and scarf. She's said that it was casual dress, and he hoped that she was right.
He saw her head bob around the corner. She was in grey sweatpants, a red long-sleeved shirt, and her hair was pulled up. Good, he thought.
When Nannette approached him, she first kissed him. "C'mon," she said when they parted, "let's go in."
They walked up three flights of stairs, and entered studio 17. It was full of couples, but they weren't casual. Every man wore nice slacks and a dress shirt a least, and every woman in a dress or pants suit, and heels. Mark squeezed Nannette's hand, who walked up to the instructor.
"Hi," she said, "Um, I thought this was casual dress." The tall man eyed their apparel, and looked back up, annoyed.
"It is casual," he sneered, "casual per New Your City above 42nd street."
"Oh," Nannette said, "alright, sorry." The looked at each other uncomfortably, and stepped back.
The tall, rude man began the class by having everyone pair up, and get into a stance. He pressed a button on a boom box. Soft music filled the room, and everyone began to tango. The movements were fluid and gentle, every muscle knowing every movement.
After a few moments, however, Mark began to get nervous, realizing that he didn't remember much of the dance. He accidentally fumbled and stepped on Nannette's toes.
"Sorry," he whispered, "I'm not very good." She just giggled in response. He stepped on them again, he she laughed a little louder. With every fumble, her volume rose.
Mark watched the other couples surrounding them, and attempted to mimic their movements. When it came time for the dip, and leaned Nannette down. Like nights before, he wasn't able to hold her in the air. She began to slip, and they both toppled to the floor in a fit of giggles. Everyone turned to look at the two.
"Out!" the instructor shouted, "get out of my studio!"
Nannette looked up. "Seriously?" she asked.
"Out!" she shouted, and the two scrambled off the floor. Still giggling, the reached the door and ran down the stairs until they were outside.
Nannette leaned up against the wall to help herself stand as she began to laugh loudly.
"Well," Mark said, suppressing a smile, "I guess that that for tango lessons." They broke out again in laughter, and walked down the road, drawing crazy attention.