Sunday, February 21, 2016

All Bra and No Birdies

     Last night I think I danced with a man. She was very attractive. I've always thought I could easily discern the difference but this time it was difficult. Frankly, I wouldn't have suspected she was hiding her gender if it wasn't for her low hum of approval at the end of our encounter. I was just about to do the same thing and I was baffled at how much she sounded like me.
     I'm not complaining but I prefer to dance with women. Also, I think she was letting me know that I could get lucky in a subtle way, in much the same manner as a man might do, letting me know she lived nearby and saying so in such a way as to have multiple meanings. I take this as more incriminating evidence of a well-played deception.
     After our tanda, I took note of her features. Her face was pretty but the more I imagined her as a man, the more it took on that persona. She was tall but not too tall for me, and slender in the shoulders, hands and neck. I recalled feeling her bra pressing against me and being surprised at how much fabric I felt; it was thickly cushioned...and empty. Her ribcage was missing the appropriate rib and I am wondering if this is now a surgical option. She had a high waist, usually a sure sign that she was a woman, or maybe not as I would later concur after I was propositioned by an unattractive tanguera later on in the evening.
     By the time I received the aforementioned invitation, I was seeing transvestites everywhere. I accepted the dance request despite my suspicions because I've had many wonderful dances with women who do not possess the stereotypical feminine physique. It was not a satisfying encounter but she was definitely a woman. I was very apprehensive at first because it looked like she was wearing a wig, her hips were not clearly defined and her facial features were not very appealing. However, her voice was high and there were large mounds of mushy flesh where her breasts should be.
     The most telling aspect of her character was her ability to sense my intentions and my mood. I was not happy at having been asked to dance and she let me know that she didn't care. I could be pissed if I wanted but she was going to try and get a dance with me because she did not come here to sit on her ass the whole night. This is woman logic beyond a shadow of a doubt. I did a good job with my offerings, made sure I held her as respectfully as I would the most beautiful tanguera I'd ever met. I did my best to be creative and gave her every opportunity to make the dance all about her but she was not a good dancer.
     When we parted she said she was delighted and looked forward to more dances. She knew right away there wouldn't be any: she was a woman and she knew intuitively that I did not appreciate being asked to dance.
     I sat down for three tandas just to gather more data on the ladies present. I was determined to spend the rest of the evening in the embrace of women with certifiable feminine credentials and am fairly certain I did but one can never know for sure in this day and age.




Hey, check out this book about witches and zombies that dance tango:


No comments:

Post a Comment