La Cubanita | The Dreamweaver

I was both a student and the teacher of a class comprised of young adults and we were rehearsing for an upcoming talent contest.

I arrived at the rehearsal and my students described what they had prepared for the competition and I was quite taken by surprise to learn they had been planning a dance crew type number with lip syncing and most mostly improvised dance moves.

The set was decorated with a black velvet-like backdrop painted with glow-in-the-dark fluorescent paint, psychedelic lights and disco ball.

As the talent show was taking place in a matter of just a few days, it was too late to suggest changing the routine the others had obviously worked long and hard on despite the fact I thought it was pretty poorly conceived.

The rehearsal began and I took my place on a yoga mat in the last row in front of the backdrop.

The music started and I began dancing, trying to follow along and emulate what the others were doing.

I noticed that the two girls who were nearest to me kept looking over and appeared to be staring at my shorts when I suddenly realized I wasn’t wearing any underwear and, as I was dancing on the floor doing these yoga-like moves, my genitals would slip out from the sides, visible to all.

Once the first song had ended, we were given a short break and I went over to the girl who had been dancing closest to me who—of the two girls who had been observing my embarrassing predicament—had seemed to take an interest in the mishap.

She introduced herself and told me she was from Cuba. She apologized for staring at me during the number confessing she had become quite aroused by the spectacle.

Awkwardly shocked by her confession, I tried to laugh off her very upfront statement and obvious advances by reminding her that not only was I her teacher, but old enough to be her father.

She quickly rebuffed me by saying she was much older than I assumed her to be, remarking that her father was in his eighties.

As the next song began, I remained close to the Cuban girl, watching her closely as she began to dance, observing every detail of her face (and oddly enough paying special attention to her nose).

I suddenly felt a deep rush of emotion stirring in the pit of my stomach and wondered to myself if perhaps she could be the girl of my dreams.

Then I woke up.

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