Date 6: Salsa

As far as dancers go, I am not much of one. However, I know that I am not a good dancer, and as G.I. Joe used to say "knowing is half the battle", so I adjust and fake it.

There is a bar in the U-Street area called Duke City, and a great salsa/funk/jazz band called Ashe used to play there once a month. I believe the band has since broken up, but when they played at Duke City loads of people would turn out to Salsa dance. There were always some fantastic dancers there, but most were hacks like me. It really didn't matter how you danced because the place was packed and the dance floor was just one huge lump of sweaty people.

I was there one evening when Ashe was playing and started talking to a girl that I (at the time) thought looked a lot like Courtney Cox. We talked at the bar for a while, but eventually it was too loud to hold a conversation so we moved to the dance floor. It was pretty chilly out that night, but it was extremely hot inside Duke City, even hotter than usual. We danced for about an hour, and were totally soaked by the time the band finished. The bar was closing so we moved to an Ethiopian restaurant down the street to grab a beer and a bite to eat.

D6-Salsa: Salsa was really cute. She was about 5'3", long black hair, brown eyes, and a very cute smile. While I initially thought she looked like Courney Cox, I would say that was a stretch. Salsa was older than I, maybe 38, and was in the midst of a divorce, which I guess technically made her a Cougar. However, Salsa was in great shape, very petite, and her body put girls half her age to shame.

After about 30 minutes at the Ethiopian restaurant it was clear that Salsa was coming home with me. Older women know what the want and usually have enough confidence to just ask for it, no time is wasted. Salsa was no exception. When I asked her if she would like to come home with me she said "I would be disappointed if you didn't ask after spending the whole night with you". That's fairly direct and confident. We hailed a cab and were at my place in ten minutes.

Salsa's confidence extended into the bedroom, she knew exactly what she wanted. We did it every which way that night, but Salsa liked to be on top, that was her thing. Squirting was also her thing. I have heard guys say they love it when a girl squirts, and I know some guys who hate it. I think it's sexy to see a girl really enjoying herself, and there is certainly no faking an orgasm when you're a squirter, but the clean up afterwards is a real hassle.

I dated a girl at home that would leave a huge wet spot, 2' in diameter, when she came, but she wasn't technically a squirter because the fluid just kind of came out of her. I dated another girl that one time when we were having sex standing up produced so much fluid that she thought I peed inside her somehow, and was convinced that she was not responsible for the puddle on her floor (I assure you it was all hers). Salsa's orgasms were a totally new experience for me. When she came when she was on top of me, she leaned back slightly and a stream of fluid sprayed over me, over my head and about 16" beyond my head. I don't know how much fluid she produced, but it would be measured in cups, not ouces. I had to dry clean my sheets, comforter, and feather bed the next day, there was just a tremendous wet spot.

I don't recall exactly how many times we slept together that night, maybe three of four. We managed to break my bed the last time, though. The headboard separated from the side supports which sent the mattress crashing to the floor. We paused for a second, but decided there was no sense stopping, it's not like I was going to whip out the screw gun and wood glue and fix it right there and then.

My guess is that we passed out somewhere around 5am. A couple of hours later I heard Salsa getting dressed and tried to convince her to sleep a little longer, but she said she had to go home and walk her dog (she did have a dog, but that sounded fishy to me).

When I finally woke up about 5 hours later I realized that I hadn't gotten Salsa's phone number. I thought I had put it in my cell phone, but I must not have saved it properly. All I could think about for the next few days was how crazy Salsa was in bed. I knew that she liked to see Ashe at Duke City, but I really didn't want to wait a month and try to run into her again. On Thursday of the next week I posted the following ad on Craigslist:

"Salsa- We drank, we danced, we went back to my place on 16th Street. You left early the next morning without leaving your number. I had a great time and would like to see you again, email me if you would like to as well."

The next day I had an email from a strange address that simply said "Guilty as charged, sorry about the bed, call me, 202-XXX-XXXX."

Salsa and I hooked up once or twice a week for about 5 months, until she moved out of the country for work. We were essentially f-buddies. We would go out with our respective friends then meet up late night for sex. Sometimes Salsa would run 5 miles and end her workout at my place for a quick screw. It was a great relationship because no feelings were getting hurt, and there was mutually satisfying sex.