How to tell what a man is like in bed without sleeping with him

How to tell what a man is like in bed without sleeping with him or removing any clothing or even knowing his name.

The answer is fairly simple – dance with them. Having experienced three tango lessons now I can say with confidence that I have learnt a lot. And not just about taking long slow steps that hesitate slightly in the middle. Nor just about following the sway of my partners’ body. Nor just about trying to stay upright whilst wearing high-heeled slippery-soled shoes. Nor even the location of the village hall where all this happens.
Here’s how it works – in the class we have to practice whatever complex, confusing and frightening steps we are being taught. Not only that but we are supposed to do it in time to the music. Well that is obvious I suppose. But after each bit we have to swap partners. This is where it gets interesting (and confusing). The steps are supposed to be the same but the execution is extraordinarily different. For those who have never tangoed (and I know there are a lot of you out there) let me just emphasise the crux, nub and very essential thing about tango – the man leads and the woman follows. This is the key to what I’m saying re bed-style.
Each leader (man, or actually in some cases woman, but that’s another story) has a very individual technique:
There are those who control their partners in a vice-like grip as if they are driving a wayward JCB, intent on simply getting to the other side of the room. Ladies, I think we have all been there.
Then there are the loose, lax types, floopping across the dance floor in a languid fashion with scant attention to either beat or rhythm, whose embrace resembles flobbling jellyfish. Sadly the dance equivalent of Viagra is yet to be invented
Another might appear to be leading with finesse but then spoil the whole effect by painful foot stomping, muttered curses and blaming the partner for a lack of experience, trying to lead herself and being too controlling. Again the equivalent of marriage guidance appears unavailable to the amateur artiste.
At this point any follower may be tempted to pack up her twinkley shoes and depart post-haste, but we don’t want to look impolite. But ladies, do not despair! In amongst the JCB drivers the flobbelers and the stompers there are some guys who know stuff that is only imaginable by those of excellent imagination.
Yes, he may look slightly tired and not a little greying but lo! He takes your hand with the gentleness of a saint, wraps his arm around your back with the confidence of a Greek God. Without you having to even breathe you have been propelled across the worn wooden planks with breathtaking ease and precision. Steps you haven’t even been taught suddenly come as easily as falling asleep whilst listening to the Archers. He moves you slowly, then quickly then, just when you weren’t expecting it…stops, leaving you balanced in mid-step aching for the next move. Just when you can take no more he thrusts forward leaving you swirling in a way you wish all swirling were. When he leaves you at the other end of the hall with a polite smile you are left only to wonder what the hell happened there. And what his name is. And where he lives. And how the hell he learnt to do that.