By Vivienne Stanton 

It was a long time coming. But after three months’ resistance I finally succumbed to being led backwards in circles by a swarthy, sweaty-palmed Argentinian. And with that step (back-step, side-step, back and forth step) kissed my tango virginity goodbye forever. To tango class I came, I saw, and was conquered. 

My conquistador was a diplomat named Edgar, or more elaborately, Edgar Javier Flores Tiravanti. Eddie… Read more