motherhubbard
06-01-2007, 10:44 AM
It’s been years since that night, but the memory is still vivid and intense. I was younger then, and inexperienced. There was never time for relationships or even conversations. All of my discussions were with classical music. My body moved to the rhythm of Tchaikovsky or Gershwin, or I should say that the music moved my body in an expression that was not wholly my own. Every moment was spent dancing and little thought was given to anything else. That changed over the summer, as did I.
He came in one afternoon to pick up his youngest sister. She was a pleasant girl, but not a serious student. She was one of many who danced because it suited pretty little upper class girls. It was hard for me to find patience to teach these young debutants. They had no real appreciation for ballet; there was no passion in them. The animosity I felt carried over to my impression of her brother.
“My brother’s her to get me Ms. Mandy”
“OK, thank you Ellen. I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Bye everybody” She yelled over her shoulder as she skipped out the front door shutting in the chorus of goodbyes in behind her.
For weeks he would come and watch me dance. I loved the control I had over my body, I loved forcing myself further along, and I even loved the pain and exhaustion that came after the final note. Secretly, I loved the way he looked at me. His head would move with my body. When I would leap his chin would point upward. When I would spin his head would tilt slightly. All the while his gaze never left me.
He would attempt conversation, but his confidence was sickening.
“You really make that look easy”
“Practice.”
“How long have you been dancing?”
“Why do you ask? I have another class starting. Please, excuse me.”
“Well, can I buy you a cup of coffee when you’re done? Your last class is over at 7:30, right?”
“No, no thank you”
“Um, maybe Tuesday?”
I didn’t want to talk. There was no way I could make time for someone so self-important. I thought he should go back to the long line of two-dimensional beauties that giggled when he passed them.
This went on for weeks. I would see him at the market and in the park. He would bring me the flowers he had seen me admiring and new CDs of the worn records I dance to. He was persistent even if he didn’t understand that I liked smelling the flowers at market or that I found the record static added to the music. To my surprise, he would make a point of speaking, regardless of whom he was with. I would often hear my name called from across the street,
“Mandy! Amanda, Wait!”
“Daniel, hi. You just keep popping up.”
“Yeah, look, are you busy latter?”
“Yes, sorry. I do a class on Wednesday evenings, too.”
“Well, if it’s over early I could pick you up,”
“No. Thanks anyway, Daniel. I really can’t”
The pinched smiles of his female friends were amusing. Though I tried to appear aloof, in truth I hardly knew how to hold a conversation. I only knew how to dance.
Over time I began to feel flush when he would watch. His eyes became soft and kind. One afternoon he when called to me I was excited to answer.
“Amanda, hi”
“Hi, Daniel. Shopping?”
“No, I was just, um, looking today. But here, I found this and thought of you. It’s not much, I know, but here.”
“Oh, lambs wool. What were you doing at Capezio? Daniel, that’s so thoughtful of you but I don’t use it. I just tape my toes. But thank you. Really thank you.”
When I smiled at him he touched my arm. I trembled and he moved his hand. I could see understanding in his cool gray eyes.
“Listen, I was going to drive out to Kentwood tonight and drop off some work at a friend’s house. Would you like to come along and keep me company? I’ve, a… I’ve wanted to spend some time with you.”
“I would, Daniel. I think I would like a drive to the country.”
We drove for hours in the summer’s heat feeling the cool night air rush through the open windows. Late summer nights have a way of melting reservations. He held me in the same gaze and suddenly I found myself safe. I was able to talk without inhabitation. He seemed to already know me. He had seen my deepest emotions when I danced and I was already fully exposed to him.
Once we were at his apartment he was careful sensing that I was frightened. I noticed how clean he kept his home and how it smelled of sandalwood. He was proud to turn on Vivaldi, aware that I loved The Four Seasons. With the music playing softly in the background he held me and we danced slowly in candlelight. His touch was soft and slow as he stroked my hair and caressed my neck and arms. While I had often danced with men, I had never danced like this. This was not about the next step or the timing. This was only about seduction. The warmth of the night and the scent mixed with the music made my head swim. I loved being in his arms and tasting the perspiration on his skin.
“Daniel, I …”
“It’s OK, Amanda. I understand. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. It will be OK. Here, just dance with me. You’re not afraid of dancing are you?”
“I’ve never danced like this Daniel”
“Shh, just listen to the music and dance”
The night air came in the open window of his bedroom along with the light of the street lamp below. He took his time unfastening my buttons; his warm lips almost touching my cheek, his breath in my ear softly reassuring me. My breathing felt shallow and shaky as I laid back on the clean cobalt blue sheets. His voice was steady and calm while he took off his own cloths and laid down beside me.
“It’s you that has seduced me, you know. You have captured my thoughts all this time. I’ve wanted you from the beginning”
“Daniel, I know we can’t be together. I’m glad I’m here with you, but we both know…”
His soft whisper pleaded for me to stop. “We can. Shh, we can be”
In spite of his soothing voice I still understood the fundamental differences in our lives as well as our futures. I needed passion and he needed social standing; we were not made for each other; the dim light shone on his chest and arms above me. He took his time touching all of me; working from the crown of my head to the bottoms of my feet. My breath came quickly, and my hair stood on end as for the first time I felt the sensation of strong fingers moving for my benefit. I was no longer nervous, but eager. I felt the power in my decision as well as a certain power over him. The dim light shone in his gray eyes and they seemed deep and intent. While our bodies and breath mingled and entwined the music swept softly over us. A new dance was created.
I slowly woke to the smell of blueberries and his fingers caressing my body; exploring as if I were a foreign land that he would never revisit, but did not want to forget. Again we yielded to each other, but with less mystery in the morning light. The only sounds now were of the traffic from the street below. We exchanged few words that morning.
“Let me take you home”
“No, thank you, Daniel. I need some air this morning”
“Are you alright? You’re not sorry are you?”
“Fine, I’m fine. I just need to clear my head. A walk will do me some good.”
“Can I see you tonight? No classes on Saturday.”
“No, I need to dance. Bye, Daniel.”
Our lives have taken different paths, though they were the paths we both chose. Now it is his young daughter fulfilling her upper class duty to perform in pink tutus. He often brings her to class early, while I have the floor to myself. He still watches with that same wonder. His gaze has not changed. There are still few words between us, but there is no need for words. We already know each other’s secrets.
He came in one afternoon to pick up his youngest sister. She was a pleasant girl, but not a serious student. She was one of many who danced because it suited pretty little upper class girls. It was hard for me to find patience to teach these young debutants. They had no real appreciation for ballet; there was no passion in them. The animosity I felt carried over to my impression of her brother.
“My brother’s her to get me Ms. Mandy”
“OK, thank you Ellen. I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Bye everybody” She yelled over her shoulder as she skipped out the front door shutting in the chorus of goodbyes in behind her.
For weeks he would come and watch me dance. I loved the control I had over my body, I loved forcing myself further along, and I even loved the pain and exhaustion that came after the final note. Secretly, I loved the way he looked at me. His head would move with my body. When I would leap his chin would point upward. When I would spin his head would tilt slightly. All the while his gaze never left me.
He would attempt conversation, but his confidence was sickening.
“You really make that look easy”
“Practice.”
“How long have you been dancing?”
“Why do you ask? I have another class starting. Please, excuse me.”
“Well, can I buy you a cup of coffee when you’re done? Your last class is over at 7:30, right?”
“No, no thank you”
“Um, maybe Tuesday?”
I didn’t want to talk. There was no way I could make time for someone so self-important. I thought he should go back to the long line of two-dimensional beauties that giggled when he passed them.
This went on for weeks. I would see him at the market and in the park. He would bring me the flowers he had seen me admiring and new CDs of the worn records I dance to. He was persistent even if he didn’t understand that I liked smelling the flowers at market or that I found the record static added to the music. To my surprise, he would make a point of speaking, regardless of whom he was with. I would often hear my name called from across the street,
“Mandy! Amanda, Wait!”
“Daniel, hi. You just keep popping up.”
“Yeah, look, are you busy latter?”
“Yes, sorry. I do a class on Wednesday evenings, too.”
“Well, if it’s over early I could pick you up,”
“No. Thanks anyway, Daniel. I really can’t”
The pinched smiles of his female friends were amusing. Though I tried to appear aloof, in truth I hardly knew how to hold a conversation. I only knew how to dance.
Over time I began to feel flush when he would watch. His eyes became soft and kind. One afternoon he when called to me I was excited to answer.
“Amanda, hi”
“Hi, Daniel. Shopping?”
“No, I was just, um, looking today. But here, I found this and thought of you. It’s not much, I know, but here.”
“Oh, lambs wool. What were you doing at Capezio? Daniel, that’s so thoughtful of you but I don’t use it. I just tape my toes. But thank you. Really thank you.”
When I smiled at him he touched my arm. I trembled and he moved his hand. I could see understanding in his cool gray eyes.
“Listen, I was going to drive out to Kentwood tonight and drop off some work at a friend’s house. Would you like to come along and keep me company? I’ve, a… I’ve wanted to spend some time with you.”
“I would, Daniel. I think I would like a drive to the country.”
We drove for hours in the summer’s heat feeling the cool night air rush through the open windows. Late summer nights have a way of melting reservations. He held me in the same gaze and suddenly I found myself safe. I was able to talk without inhabitation. He seemed to already know me. He had seen my deepest emotions when I danced and I was already fully exposed to him.
Once we were at his apartment he was careful sensing that I was frightened. I noticed how clean he kept his home and how it smelled of sandalwood. He was proud to turn on Vivaldi, aware that I loved The Four Seasons. With the music playing softly in the background he held me and we danced slowly in candlelight. His touch was soft and slow as he stroked my hair and caressed my neck and arms. While I had often danced with men, I had never danced like this. This was not about the next step or the timing. This was only about seduction. The warmth of the night and the scent mixed with the music made my head swim. I loved being in his arms and tasting the perspiration on his skin.
“Daniel, I …”
“It’s OK, Amanda. I understand. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. It will be OK. Here, just dance with me. You’re not afraid of dancing are you?”
“I’ve never danced like this Daniel”
“Shh, just listen to the music and dance”
The night air came in the open window of his bedroom along with the light of the street lamp below. He took his time unfastening my buttons; his warm lips almost touching my cheek, his breath in my ear softly reassuring me. My breathing felt shallow and shaky as I laid back on the clean cobalt blue sheets. His voice was steady and calm while he took off his own cloths and laid down beside me.
“It’s you that has seduced me, you know. You have captured my thoughts all this time. I’ve wanted you from the beginning”
“Daniel, I know we can’t be together. I’m glad I’m here with you, but we both know…”
His soft whisper pleaded for me to stop. “We can. Shh, we can be”
In spite of his soothing voice I still understood the fundamental differences in our lives as well as our futures. I needed passion and he needed social standing; we were not made for each other; the dim light shone on his chest and arms above me. He took his time touching all of me; working from the crown of my head to the bottoms of my feet. My breath came quickly, and my hair stood on end as for the first time I felt the sensation of strong fingers moving for my benefit. I was no longer nervous, but eager. I felt the power in my decision as well as a certain power over him. The dim light shone in his gray eyes and they seemed deep and intent. While our bodies and breath mingled and entwined the music swept softly over us. A new dance was created.
I slowly woke to the smell of blueberries and his fingers caressing my body; exploring as if I were a foreign land that he would never revisit, but did not want to forget. Again we yielded to each other, but with less mystery in the morning light. The only sounds now were of the traffic from the street below. We exchanged few words that morning.
“Let me take you home”
“No, thank you, Daniel. I need some air this morning”
“Are you alright? You’re not sorry are you?”
“Fine, I’m fine. I just need to clear my head. A walk will do me some good.”
“Can I see you tonight? No classes on Saturday.”
“No, I need to dance. Bye, Daniel.”
Our lives have taken different paths, though they were the paths we both chose. Now it is his young daughter fulfilling her upper class duty to perform in pink tutus. He often brings her to class early, while I have the floor to myself. He still watches with that same wonder. His gaze has not changed. There are still few words between us, but there is no need for words. We already know each other’s secrets.