DISCOMFORT ZONE:Finance Correspondent Simon Carswell slips out of his pinstripes and into the sensual embrace of a tango partner – at least, that's what he expects

VOLUNTEERING to cover something outside my “comfort zone”, I thought I might be offered an interview with Cristiano Ronaldo or a catwalk model. No such luck.

My editor asked me to attend a tango class. Was he expecting me to indulge in a passionate embrace with a random dancing partner in a world of South American sensuality? Hardly.

That would be too far a leap from interviewing businessmen, analysing balance sheets, and dissecting ESRI reports.

Knowing little about the tango beyond the fact that it takes two to do it, there was a sudden rush of panic as I ventured alone into the tango class and a room full of strangers. Tango Essence at the Cultivate centre in Temple Bar, Dublin is in full swing as I arrive late. I have just filed a story about yet another developer battling it out in the Four Courts over mind-boggling sums of bank debt.

I might be able to waltz through a set of accounts or pirouette through corporate spin, but dancing the tango for the first time with a complete stranger is an entirely different prospect.

I like to think of myself as a competent dancer. I have attempted some of Michael Jackson's Thriller– well, the claw part – and even drunkenly tried to replicate Jennifer Grey's lake jump over Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancingwith a female friend at a 1980s-themed party. (It took me and two other blokes to execute the lift, but we did it.)

“Irish people find tango hard,” explains Kristina, one half of teaching duo Kristina y Julian, at the start, “because in tango, men must learn to lead and women must surrender.” Cue nervous laughter.

It strikes me a little like how the relationship between the Financial Regulator and the banks should be – the regulator should lead and the banks should surrender.

Tango is the union of opposites, says Kristina: one partner must know the opposing part as much as their own. The atmosphere is tense; everyone avoids eye contact.

Instead, we focus on the loquacious Kristina, who talks as fast as she moves.

I scan the room, count 15 people and, using my skills as a finance journalist, calculate that there are two men for every woman. It’s impossible to tango by one’s self – there’s a female deficit that needs urgent recapitalisation.

Luckily, the class starts with our teachers showing us the basics by telling us to move on our own. “Push your chest up at a 45-degree angle and pretend there is a string pulling you up from the top of your head,” says Kristina.

We are then shown a few steps and told to pair up. Like awkward teenagers at a céilí, we sheepishly move to the centre of the room. I dance with a girl named Sonia. With three lessons and a trip to Buenos Aires, the home of tango, under her belt, she is elegant on her feet and helpful. Soon, I am counting out the steps through gritted teeth and only occasionally kicking her. It is surprisingly good fun (the dancing, not the kicking).

With partners rotating several times, it’s inevitable I end up dancing with a bloke. Luckily, he agrees to surrender and play the female role. He is definitely not a banker.

Entanglements ensue while dancing the ocho, in which the female dancer draws out the figure eight with her feet. Fearing for my ankles, my male partner and I agree we were leaders, born never to surrender. We choose to separate and “shadow tango” individually.

Kristina, a 30-year-old Parisian, praises me for my moves but says my leading arm is too rigid. She warns against picking up bad habits early in a dancing career.

At the end, Kristina and Julian, an Argentinian, show off their skills. They glide effortlessly, their bodies adjoined, her legs intertwining and unwinding around him in corkscrew-like motions to a 4/4 beat. It is all very passionate.

Kristina says singles account for 70 per cent of their students, who range from their late 20s to the early 40s.

“I know of some romantic entanglements but I don’t know if they lasted. There was a couple who came to save their marriage. The woman said, it was either tango or divorce,” she says.

“Before, she was not willing to follow, but she changed. They started dancing two years ago. They’re still together.”

A successful businesswoman attended classes because she felt inhibited and wanted “to walk more gracefully”, says Kristina. “She became more assertive, rather than being aggressive.”

I leave with a spring in my step. Will I return? Absolutely – I’ve been tangoed.