Dirty Dancing
This is post 30 of Section III. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here.
The room filled. The D. J. began cranking the techno, mixing and sampling masterfully. Jack settled his brother at a table where he could sit, gripping his straight scotch apprehensively, and after a flattering toast over the mike by Sheba, Robert and Jack danced a tango specially mixed for them under Sheba’s direction.
Then everyone joined in (except the brother). There were all kinds: ballroom dancers spinning their partners around with ease, dirty dancers sinuously seducing, hip, athletic dancers with all the latest video moves, those who had never gotten past the basic two-step, and those who thrashed about in a wild orgiastic frenzy. They danced in pairs and in big circles or clumps, and some even danced by themselves. Frank got up on the bar and did a striptease down to his semi-transparent zebra-striped underwear, which would have come off too, had he not been helped down by Sheba; and then a couple of other guys from the music scene and one butch lesbian Jack knew from the German Department also danced on the bar in their own provocative fashion.
Jack was a good dancer. As with everything else he was good at, he had studied it, but Robert didn’t mind. Jack was tastefully eclectic, matching his practiced styles to the music. Robert, who had an easy gift for dance that had always been a marvel in his under-coordinated family, sometimes copied Jack’s moves, but more often blended his own grace with his partner’s, letting Jack lead, but occasionally embellishing—turning a simple dip into a bit of dirty dancing, or spicing up the tango with a little old-fashioned disco hustle.
Continue
The room filled. The D. J. began cranking the techno, mixing and sampling masterfully. Jack settled his brother at a table where he could sit, gripping his straight scotch apprehensively, and after a flattering toast over the mike by Sheba, Robert and Jack danced a tango specially mixed for them under Sheba’s direction.
Then everyone joined in (except the brother). There were all kinds: ballroom dancers spinning their partners around with ease, dirty dancers sinuously seducing, hip, athletic dancers with all the latest video moves, those who had never gotten past the basic two-step, and those who thrashed about in a wild orgiastic frenzy. They danced in pairs and in big circles or clumps, and some even danced by themselves. Frank got up on the bar and did a striptease down to his semi-transparent zebra-striped underwear, which would have come off too, had he not been helped down by Sheba; and then a couple of other guys from the music scene and one butch lesbian Jack knew from the German Department also danced on the bar in their own provocative fashion.
Jack was a good dancer. As with everything else he was good at, he had studied it, but Robert didn’t mind. Jack was tastefully eclectic, matching his practiced styles to the music. Robert, who had an easy gift for dance that had always been a marvel in his under-coordinated family, sometimes copied Jack’s moves, but more often blended his own grace with his partner’s, letting Jack lead, but occasionally embellishing—turning a simple dip into a bit of dirty dancing, or spicing up the tango with a little old-fashioned disco hustle.
Continue
posted by Hobbes at 3:30 AM
6 Comments:
Enter Bennet?
Just a guess
Yes. Ed! Isn't there a custom for the father of the bride to dance with his daughter, or whatever?
Um, something like that. . . .
GEL: Harold Bloom, whom I once audited, might call that crotch thing "a strong misreading"!
No, I don't have any intimate gay connections. It's more been a long string of friends going back to elementary school. I seem to share a sense of wit and wickedness that a lot of gay guys have. I wouldn't say I was a "fag hag," since I'm not sexually attracted to gay guys. But they're as safe as women, sexually speaking, and generally a whole lot naughtier.
As I say in an earlier note here, I got interested in these issues before they were that mainstream because when I told a gay friend that Dr. Weirsdo had once voted for Reagan, he got me a subscription to THE ADVOCATE (gay NEWSWEEK) as a wedding present (to keep me liberal), and I found it very interesting.
My main motivation for the novel was my father's death. If he'd had a son, what would he have been like? So a plot was born. Somewhere along the way, I ended up throwing in the whole rest of my life, too, and especially my now very consistent theme of wrenching family values away from the Far Right.
Thanks for the explanation.I'm very liberal, too. Both of my daughters were/are heavily involved in theatre and all there of us in the visual arts, so there is lots of exposure to gay lifestyles of teenagers, male and female. Also, high school theatre, without the teacher/director around, was the FIRST place they found people who were as honest and earthy as their mom, aka GEL.
P.S. Please update your link to "Irrepressible Secrets" when you have a moment to breathe. (No rush with the holidays.) "Silken Threads was taken down save for a couple of poems. I received too much traffic to that hosting site, kept exceeding their bandwidth, so readers received error messages. Thus, they couldn't access the site unless I paid for upgrade.
So I moved my writing site to blogspot where there is free bandwidth and changed the name:
"Irrepressible Secrets" is the former "silken Threads":
http://Silvermoon18.blogspot.com.
(I couldn't export old posts since it's not a simple template change like here on Blogger so my fiction, etc is not back up. I've been working off the computer. :)
That is me above. Blogger keeps messing up and not putting in my Blogger name, for some reason.
I meant to add above:
I'm saddened to read about your father's death. Mine died in recent years, too.
GEl/aka SilvermOOn (above comment)
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