Written to Sauergeek’s prompt to my new “WTF?” Prompt Call.
I am picturing this as the same era/world as The Trouble With… (Chickens, assignments, ferrets, and so on)
It wasn’t, exactly, a dance.
That is, it was never a dance that would performed in high society, in the dance halls of the Dames and Lords.
It was a dance that was born out of too much whisky, the sort of stuff that ambitious university students brewed in the abandoned dormitories. It was born out of the awkward one-woman-to-ever-seven-men ratio that was common on the University campus – especially those sections where students were brewing bathtub hooch and coming up with interesting ways to “Age” it without getting caught. And it was born out of one woman’s very determined urge that, if she was going to be in experimental sciences, she was going to get dances, no matter what her uncle said on the matter.
It was neither a tango nor a foxtrot, but it was face-paced, steamy, and done best when more than a little intoxicated. It was something like a square dance, except that it was done with one woman at the heart of eight men. And it was quickly declared against the rules by the university, illegal by the government, and immoral by two different churches.
It was so wildly popular that before she graduated, the young woman responsible for the craze wrote an anonymous tell-all book, the sales of which funded her experimentations for the next fifty years.