|_Jump to: Reviews||The Roguish Rapier, Chapter Six: “Fancy Footwork”_|
Today’s deal can get former wallflowers of all ages swing dance lessons from Gottaswing Charlotte for $6 each, half off the usual $12 per-class fee. Each one-hour lesson will be followed with a three-hour dance accompanied by live swing music. Lessons and dances are on the third Saturday of every month from 7:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. (more are being added soon; check the events calendar). Be sure to schedule ahead.
Gottaswing’s beginner classes primarily cover six- and eight-count patterns, the Jitterbug, and Lindy Hop. During your lesson, you’ll learn to lead, to follow, and some basic six-count kicking up of heels. Once you’re finished fancifying your footwork a bit, you’ll have three hours to show off your moves on the hardwood and start jam circles, dance battles, or even an old-fashion centipede stomp.
If you’re still singing, “Don’t wanna dance, why should I?” consider that busting the occasional move from yesteryear is excellent exercise and attracts mates better than flashing one’s epaulets or locking antlers with rival suitors. And if Fred and Ginger movies are anything to go by, a well-placed dance number can iron out any romantic snafu, political tension, or existential crisis. So bring a partner or three, or come stag—just bring comfortable, non-strappy shoes. Gottaswing will magically transport your feet back to that distant year before the economic collapse and the war, when everybody was jumping, jiving, and wailing to the hottest big bands—good ol’ 1999.
There are no reviews for Gottaswing, but here is a video of its Hepcat Hoppers team to inspire you:
The Roguish Rapier, Chapter Six: “Fancy Footwork”
“You’ve gotta swing,” murmured the enigmatic old prisoner. “Use my shirt as a rope.”
Alexander removed the final loose stone from around the tower prison’s window slit, gently placing it on the floor lest a passing guard hear the unmistakable clink of masonry. The gap was, indeed, large enough for a man to squeeze through. He took the old man’s shirt and looped it around the remaining iron bar.
“If you can pendulum yourself above those stables,” the old man said, pointing a finger like a bone wrapped in parchment, “you might be able to catch your footing on the way down. And if you don’t…” The old man pantomimed a pair of running legs with his spindly fingers, plummeting into his opposite palm with a splat of knuckles. “Are you sure your feet will be fleet enough?”
Holding his tongue out of uncertainty, or utter certainty, Alexander didn’t reply. He simply hefted himself into the gap, and felt, as if for the first time, the cool blue-black breeze of freedom. “Why are you doing this for me?”
Shivering and bare-chested in the moonlight, the decrepit inmate coughed, and Alexander’s heart stirred. In this state, the old man exuded the fragility of an infant. For a moment, Alexander reconsidered his departure. Surely there was some way he could save them both…
“Go,” the old man said, finally. “Never ask and never think of me again.”
Alexander did not understand, but he knew better than to deny a dying man the dignity of a secret. He turned again to the window, tugged soundly at the old man’s canvas shirt to test its hold, and leapt.
For a moment the world was a rush of wind and exhilarating freedom as he swung above the adjacent stables. He released the shirt and coiled himself, preparing to silently land upon the roof. He was not, however, prepared to crash directly through it, waking the horses in a cacophony that even the most wine-besotted guard would have trouble sleeping through.
Read more chapters in Groupon’s serialized novel, The Roguish Rapier, here.
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