The Ladies from the Bank

I dance the cha cha, and the rhumba, too,
Together with the ladies from the bank.
I'm grateful, but I'm not sure whom to thank;
The ladies love it, really, they all do,
Or so they always say, and when we're through
We go for coffee, at the evening's shank,
And talk about – well, if I may be frank,
We talk about their husbands. Wouldn't you?

The spectacle that's me, traipsing around
The dance floor with a loans department clerk,
Stops when the new branch manager leaves work
To join us: junior tellers go to ground,
The greeters disappear, without a sound,
And she steps on my toes, without a smirk.