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THE YEAR OF LIVING
DANGEROUSLY
CHAPTER TEN:
Temptation
Written by Rick
Archer
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AUGUST 1978
THE JET SET CLUB
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The Free Love ethos that began during the
Hippie Era initiated an unprecedented pursuit of
hedonism that carried over into
the Sexual Revolution of the Seventies.
There were all kinds of cultural influences.
Playboy magazine, Cosmo, Joy of Sex, Club Med, the Pill,
apartment projects catering to singles, hot tubs, water
beds, Looking for Mr. Goodbar. It all added up to make
the Sexy Seventies the right time to be single.
Then came the Disco Era to supercharge these
heady days of unrestrained passion. With
Donna Summer crooning, "ooh, love to love you, baby",
people from all walks of life
wanted to get in on the dance
action. That included married people. With Disco trending
hot, places like the Jet Set, a
notorious swingers club, were more
than happy to cash in. Besieged with requests to offer
dance lessons, the
Jet Set owner decided to find a
Disco teacher. So naturally he
called Stevens of Hollywood, the best known Disco studio in
the city. One night in January 1978,
Lance Stevens handed me a phone
number for a night club named Jet Set International. I
stared at the card and furrowed my brow. I had never heard
of this place and had no idea what it was. I stared at
Stevens who returned my stare impassively. Something was
up, but Stevens said nothing.
Finally I asked, "Okay, I give in.
What is this place?
"The Jet Set Club is Houston's answer to
Sodom and Gomorrah. The Jet Set is a wife
swappers club located in northwest Houston. They want
someone to teach dance lessons as a way to get all the
little boys and girls worked up."
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Stevens went on to say that Bernard, the man who owned the
place, owned strip joints around the city. "This Bernard
guy is a big mover and shaker in the sex industry. He wants
a hot stud to come out and turn his naked girls on. He
asked for Travolta, but I told him you would have to do.
Boy, is he in for a surprise."
I
flinched at the crack. Stevens laughed hard at his joke
while I stood there biting my tongue. Just then Stevens'
next appointment walked in, so he left to go meet her. I
did not appreciate the insult, but I getting used to it.
Meanwhile I stared at the phone number feeling incredulous.
A sex club? Wife swappers?
I did not think Stevens was kidding. Stevens was invariably
sarcastic, but he was not what you would call a put-on type
of guy. Humor was not his style. I took the phone number
and stared at it. The Jet Set Club sounded
like an evil place and I had no
idea what I was getting myself into. On the other
hand, I had to admit I was curious.
Considering my limited sexual experience
thanks to the Epic Losing Streak,
maybe it was time to branch out from my sheltered life.
I visited the Jet Set on a Thursday night after classes
ended. Arriving at 9:30, the place was pretty dead.
I found Bernard sitting at the bar by himself. He was
reading a magazine. Playboy? Penthouse?
No, People magazine. I don't why, but I thought that
was funny.
"Listen, Rick, here's the score. My club does thriving
business on Fridays and Saturdays. These are prime Swap
Nights because people don't have to work the next day.
However, things are dead during the week. That's where
you come in. Thursday is our slowest night. I want you
to teach Disco lessons as a way to boost attendance on
Thursday nights."
Bernard didn't come out and say it, but I gathered Thursday
was the chance to rest up for a big weekend of orgies and
wife swapping. I idly wondered why it wasn't called 'husband
swapping', but decided not to ask. Having never been
married, I could not begin to imagine what went through
these people's minds. Sexual variety
had never appealed to me. My preference was one girlfriend
at a time, but first I would have to find one. Realizing I
had a lot of catching up to do, my mind was filled with
fantasies and impure thoughts of
what went on here. Embarrassed to note my curiosity
had begun to get the better of me, I
decided to take the job.
"Okay, Bernard, I will give it a try. I teach at Stevens of
Hollywood on Thursday nights until 9 pm. It's a long drive,
so the earliest I could get here would be 9:30."
"Hey, don't worry, that's fine by me. After everyone puts
their kids to bed, they don't start getting here till 9 pm
anyway. 9:30 is perfect. That gives them time to
have a few drinks to warm up and get in a little flirting."
I
rolled my eyes at Bernard's description. What am I getting
myself into? Too late now. The die was cast. If for no
better reason than to see what this place was like, I agreed
to start the following week. The start time seemed kind of
late, but if that was what Bernard wanted, then 9:30 it is.
I would teach classes at the studio from 6-9 pm, then get in
my car and race over to the Jet Set Club.
To my surprise, I enjoyed teaching at the Jet Set.
Stevens had referred to all the 'naked girls', but
the only nudity was limited to revealing outfits to show
cleavage and a few unbuttoned shirts. The clientele
was middle class and middle-aged, 30s, 40s, 50s. There
were all types in there ranging from clean-cut button-down
types to lounge lizards and hard women who around been
around the block more times than they could remember.
Other than being older than the typical Disco crowd, these
were friendly, normal-looking people who did not strike me
as 'deviant' at first glance. What I liked most
about my new students was their enthusiasm. Unlike my
regular classes, these people made sure to do some drinking
before class started. No one was ever drunk, but they
were definitely cheerful by the time I arrived. This
was perfect because they laughed at every joke. In
particular they enjoyed my sexual innuendos. Any
reference to giving me their "breast effort" was sure
to bring the house down.
So I suppose the Readers want to know if I got involved
beyond the call the duty. Sorry to disappoint, but I
ran into a numbers problem. In order to participate in
the action, I would need to provide a female partner.
I got some offers, mostly casual. "Hey, Rick, next
week bring a girlfriend along." I would smile and
say sure, but to be honest I was not tempted in the least.
Besides, I was so busy working two jobs while dealing with
Stevens' latest demand, when I was going to have time
to find a girlfriend? And so the months rolled by.
February, March, April, May, June, July. Every Thursday I
showed up at 9:30, taught a line dance and some partner
dance patterns. These people learned fast.
Whatever I taught them, they stuck around after class and
practiced. I was very popular. The ladies asked
me to dance and I was happy to oblige.
I really did not belong here, so when no one
was looking, I made a swift exit. However, one night in early August,
I stayed a bit longer than usual. This is because one of my Jet Set
students asked me to sit for a moment. Her
name was Karen.
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My love affair with Jenny
ended in late July. What a shame. Jenny very well
could have been the love of my life. Our level of
communication was profound to say the least. After
Jenny
said goodbye, given how special she was, I fully expected to
plunge into a catastrophic depression like I had with past
loves such as Vanessa, Rachel and Katie. To my surprise,
nothing of the sort happened.
Oh sure, I
cried hard and moped around the house for a day or two.
However, it didn't take long to snap out of it.
Jenny had been so unbelievably positive in her Farewell
message that I did not come away from our relationship
feeling defeated. Instead I felt optimistic.
Jenny had not rejected me in the least. She had
explained in a remarkably kind way that I had a different
path to follow. She regretted that our time together was
so brief, but pointed out our love affair had been unbelievably
special. Considering I felt strengthened
from our time together, I saw Jenny as a
Messenger. She made it clear the time had come to
spread my wings and
fly. Jenny believed in me just
like my therapist Gaye did. I took that to heart. How could I
forget Jenny's parting words?
"You are
on the move. Your sun is rising and you have an
entire world to conquer. And I know you will.
There's something about you that will never give up.
That is just as plain as day."
Jenny was
right. My sun was rising and my confidence soaring.
And apparently Jenny was not the only woman who could tell. At the
moment, I was on fire.
The moment the calendar flipped to August, women began coming out of the
woodwork. I received more attention from women in August than I had received in my entire life combined.
If pressed for an explanation,
I was a healthy person for the first time. Those personality
flaws that had pushed women away were gone. I still had my
share of insecurities and rough edges, but I had made vast
improvement thanks to Gaye's patient guidance. Furthermore, my six month
Dance Apprenticeship
had toughened me up considerably. I had faced one test after
another and handled them all. Even the downfalls such as the
Ritz
seemed to help. I handled the Cold War
hostility with skill and had been rewarded with the Class Factory
opportunity, a huge lucky break.
My career was
soon to skyrocket in the coming Fall. However, August served as an amusing prelude to the coming
fireworks.
Was I hungry?
Oh, yes. I was no longer Alice in Wonderland drifting
through life. Now I was headed somewhere. I could sense
it. Too many things had broken my way not to believe I was
Destiny's Child. Disco was my ticket to success. The
Universe had given me this chance and I was determined to let this
series of lucky breaks take me as far as it
could.
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Throughout my
Magic Carpet Ride, I had one motto -
Accept every opportunity.
The best example was my
ongoing Thursday night job at the Jet Set Club. However,
the wife-swappers club was just one of many 'outside teaching' situations that came my way.
I gobbled up every one of them. As the best known Disco teacher in
Houston, word of mouth carried my name to distant corners.
Whenever someone wanted a
Disco teacher for a special event, my name popped up.
Putting my weekends
to good use, I
accepted one outside teaching gig after another. And let me
tell you, there were some weird ones! I taught at an old folks
home, a boy scout meeting, bar mitzvahs, country club events,
birthday parties, even a line dance class for seventh graders.
The whole world was enveloped in Disco Fever.
I taught in night clubs,
I taught at a singles seminar, I taught at a law convention, I
taught a B'nai B'rith youth group, I taught church groups, I taught
at a Hispanic community center and I
taught at a gay and lesbian conference. Not a weekend
went by when I didn't work a Saturday, a Sunday, or both.
Sometimes I taught two events the same day. You
name it, I taught there. Usually I got paid, but sometimes I
got stiffed. Sometimes I simply volunteered my time. Each experience was helping me grow
as a teacher. It helped me gain confidence to go to
these strange places and try to relate. Once upon a time I had
admired my Israeli girlfriend Rachel for her willingness to try
new experiences. As an only child, I had grown up as an introvert only to have the acne attack make my
shyness much worse. By seeking out different experiences,
each situation helped me shed another layer of diffidence.
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Although some of the
outside teaching gigs
were fun, the majority were frustrating.
One out of three events was fun, but the rest were serious uphill struggles.
At the dance studio, people who came to me had already made up their
mind to pursue dance lessons. Not so with these outside events.
In this case, my sponsor was convinced Disco lessons were
a good idea only to find out their guests did not agree. I
learned the hard way how difficult it was to persuade non-dancers to
dance. Most would rather sit in their seat and watch.
Sometimes it felt like pulling teeth to get people to participate.
It was embarrassing to beg people to join me on the
floor.
The worst ever was
the
Boy Scout troop. Right at the start a couple boys laughed derisively
and made it clear dancing wasn't cool. The rest took the hint.
All the boys just stood there with their arms crossed. Finally the Scout Leader
shrugged and told me I could go. He offered to pay, but I
wouldn't accept the money. In my mind, I had failed.
I don't want to be paid for failure. Outside teaching was hard work! Nevertheless, even when
something didn't go well, thanks to my dogged persistence, I would
still accept the next opening. Like I said, accept every opportunity. As we shall see, this
positive attitude resulted in some very interesting adventures.
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July 4th
weekend,
1978
UNDER THE KILLING MOON
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My motto
to accept every opportunity had led to the Jet Set Club.
At the time I
assumed that was as bizarre as it gets. Just when I thought
nothing could
be stranger, I stumbled upon the Gangster
Disco Party. One summer afternoon, Stevens handed me a phone number
without an explanation. Whenever he handed me a number,
it meant he wasn't interested. However, I was interested.
I was interested
in everything.
Curious, I made the call.
The man who answered said his boss wanted a Disco instructor to
teach at his wife's birthday party on Saturday, July 1. The moment he said $300, I said sure, sounds like fun. Considering I made $15 an hour teaching for Stevens,
the man on the phone had me at hello. I would earn the
equivalent of 20 hours of work.
As the man gave directions,
I realized this place was somewhere
near Magnolia close to where the Texas
Renaissance Festival is held every year. This
location
was 60 miles to the north in the middle of a thick Texas pine
forest. Hmm. Maybe I had been a bit hasty. As
I drove, I began to regret accepting this offer.
Too late now. The easy
money had been too tempting to resist.
My Code of Honor forced me to continue.
The directions had
said my destination was not visible from the road. I was
told to look for an easy-to-spot landmark, turn right and drive
another
mile on a dirt
road. Except that it was not a dirt road. It was just made to
look like one from the outside. About a hundred yards in
the road was paved. There was no gate, so most people
would never give the entrance a second look. When I
spotted the sign, I realized it was a temporary marker most
likely put out specifically for me. I
left the highway and turned onto a road that took me deep into
the pine forest. There was no sign of civilization, just
dense forest.
Driving down this long road gave me the creeps. The phrase
'off the beaten path' came to mind. I
was in the middle of nowhere without any idea what was going on.
What the hell did I get myself into?
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After half a mile, the trees cleared and I came to a walled estate. It
occurred to me this place had been deliberately hidden from
prying eyes.
No one would ever know this place was there.
I should have turned around right there, but I had given my
word. Besides, I was here. Let's just get this over with.
As I pulled closer, I
saw two security
guards at the gate. When I saw how
rough the
guards looked, I regretted not turning around when I had the
chance.
But it was too late now. They had seen me. Besides,
in my pathetic little VW Bug, what chance did I have of
outrunning them if they gave chase? I decided it was
probably safer to cooperate. If I did not give these people any
reason to think I was a threat, I doubted seriously they would
hurt me.
Forcing a weak smile, I tried to appear as
unthreatening as possible when the two men cautiously approached.
One of the guards opened the
door for me while the other deliberately kept his distance. They weren't rude. Nor did they frisk me.
However, they definitely looked me over. I kept reminding myself I
had nothing to fear. Or did I? Despite the summer
heat, they wore light-colored Miami Vice-style
sports coats. I assumed that meant the men were
armed. I wondered if they would shoot me if
they didn't like the class. Or, with my typical bad luck, they would
sell me as a sex slave down in Mexico. Maybe this was
Lance Stevens' doing. I bet he paid these guys to get rid
of me. I wouldn't put it past him. This was not good. I had bitten off
way more than I could chew. Worse, no one knew I was
here. How could I be so stupid!
Here in the summer heat, I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.
With no place to hide a weapon, the inspection did not take long.
Once the
two guards relaxed, they greeted me with warm smiles.
"You must be the
dance teacher!"
I nodded. I
was tempted to say something sarcastic about what a lucky guess, but my self-preservation instinct kicked in and zipped my mouth
shut. Thank goodness for the Cold War. I had earned
a Master's Degree in appearing to be pathetic. Actually, for this situation, no
previous training was necessary. Right now I was scared
out of my wits.
One of the men
stepped forward. "Here, let me take you inside."
Blessed are the
meek, I walk through the valley of death, fear no evil, the meek
shall inherit the earth...
Hmm. More than
likely, the only earth I will inherit will be a shallow grave
out in those woods.
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I entered a walled
compound straight out of the Godfather, except
the decor was Spanish. The house was a large hacienda with
Spanish-styled red clay tiles for the roof. Building
this estate deep in the Texas pine forest must have cost a
fortune.
Good grief, this place
is
bigger than a
medieval castle!!
I was positive a
gangster of some sort lived here. Did I have anything
to worry about? Probably not. They had little
reason to be suspicious. So far they had treated me nicely.
Realizing a dance teacher would pose no threat, I tried to
calm down.
The guard escorted me to
a large swimming pool and asked me to wait.
As I waited for the guard to return, I looked around.
All sorts of questions shot through my mind. Considering we were in the middle of
nowhere, this place had amenities such as
electricity and running water. But there were no telephone
poles.
Odd. And where did they hide the electricity cables?
Probably underground, which is where I would be too if I
wasn't careful.
I could understand a
desire for privacy, but this was extreme. How did they ever build this
hidden palace so
far off the road? In this remote spot, no one would know
this place was here unless someone tipped off the authorities.
What did they do with the
construction workers to keep them quiet after the place was
completed? Did the nearby pine forest conceal
a mass grave? Mysteries abounded.
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It was 8 pm and
starting to get dark. This place was really making me
nervous. What was I doing
here? I kicked myself a million times for not telling anyone where I was
going. There was no copy of the directions at my house. If I disappeared, no one would be the
wiser. As I stood
waiting by the pool, I berated myself upside and down for accepting this job.
I should have asked more questions. I
kept reminding myself to relax. These people had no reason to
hurt me. I was a nobody and I was unarmed. They had no
reason to suspect I was a narcotics agent. Besides, everyone knows
FBI agents can't dance unless someone shoots at their feet. Since no one seemed
suspicious, I tried to stay calm.
I decided to smile, act friendly and see what they wanted.
There were only a handful of people around and they gave me no
suspicious looks. They were busy preparing for the
combination birthday party and July 4th celebration.
Eventually the guard came
back for me. He escorted me around the lavish swimming
pool to a covered patio on the other side. The guard said
the boss was busy, so he pointed to a chair by the DJ booth.
So I sat down and got comfortable. There was no one in the DJ
booth, but a tape deck was playing. The loudspeakers blared current Disco
hits like Boogie Oogie Oogie and
I Love the Night Life.
This place reminded me of a Mediterranean-style estate except
with pine trees, not palm trees. There was a giant fountain, lush shrubbery, tiled
walkways, and of course the swimming pool. I could not help
but wonder if drugs had paid for this place.
Not bad. Maybe I was in the wrong profession. My eyes followed the
guard. He went to speak to some big guy in a
lounge chair with a drink in his hand. They had a conversation, the guard pointed
to me, and the man nodded. Now the guard came back to
fetch me. The guard led me to
the man in the lounge chair, probably the owner. The head
honcho put his drink down, then stood up to shake my hand.
"Hey,
buddy, thanks for coming. My name
is Frank. Long drive up, right?"
I nodded.
Frank was a big, husky Hispanic guy who looked like he could hold his
own in a street fight. With his long dark hair pulled back
in a ponytail, this guy was the spitting image of
a drug lord. At the moment a large outdoor fan made
his ponytail dance in the breeze. Frank was wearing a
shirt left open to display a dark tan accentuated
by gold chains worth a fortune. Like the guards, he wore a white sports
coat over his shirt. I thought it was odd to
wear a sports coat in this early evening Texas heat, so I assumed he was
packing as well. I took a long, deep breath. Relax.
Smile. Act friendly. Be meek. Considering how
rough and gruff Frank looked, I was surprised to discover he was very
outgoing, very appreciative.
"Your name is Rick? Hey,
man, this is great. I'm really glad you came. This dance lesson was a last-minute
idea so we are fortunate you were available. My wife Sofia is going to be tickled
pink. This is her 30th birthday party and she has really
been looking forward to this night. We don't get out much,
so this is a real treat. I want you to relax,
make yourself comfortable, get something to eat. I hope
you aren't in any hurry. The guests will arrive soon.
We'll have dinner, then get the dancing started. Sorry, no
fireworks. Hope you won't be disappointed."
No fireworks?
Given my paranoia, my first thought was no gun fighting.
Then I remembered it was a July 4th party. Yes, fireworks
were a bad idea in the middle of a dry forest. And with that, Frank
said something to the guard, then excused himself to go inside
the house. As I
watched him walk away, I realized this gig was
on the level. Why would it be a charade? I guess it's tough for
gangsters to find a good place to dance out here in the boondocks.
So the Godfather was going to
throw a Disco Party as a birthday present for his wife. If that doesn't
take the cake!
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Frank reappeared with a beautiful
Latina by his side. Make that 'very beautiful'!
This woman was 'Miss World' kind of beautiful.
Sofia was
tall,
slender, model's figure, tousled hair, dark complexion,
piercing brown eyes, long legs enhanced by tight shorts. I felt weak in her presence.
Sofia's
awesome good looks really unsettled me. This was the
most beautiful woman I had ever met. To my surprise,
Sofia turned out
to be just as nice as her husband. I had no idea gangsters were such
nice people.
"Thank you
so much for driving out here. You're from Houston?
That's a long way from here, so
I really appreciate your coming. This is the best
birthday present ever! My girlfriends and I want
to learn some Disco line dances! Maybe I can persuade Francisco to join us out on the floor!"
And with that,
Sofia turned and gave Big Frank a smooch on the cheek. To my
considerable surprise, he blushed. Good
grief. I had no idea gangsters blushed. I
crossed my fingers and prayed he remained on the benevolent
side tonight.
Sofia turned
back to me. "Rick, can
I
get you anything? How about a drink? I bet a
margarita would do you some good. We need to get
you in the right mood. We're going to have a big party
tonight and you're gonna be a big hit!"
"Thank you,
Sofia, but I don't drink when I am working. Maybe a
coke?"
Sofia nodded,
then beckoned
for a servant to come help me. After that, she took off. When I
told the new lady to bring me some coke, she did a serious
double-take. I think she misunderstood, so I
hurriedly said, "Uh, I mean coca-cola."
The lady grinned
at the misunderstanding. "You want something in that coke?
Vodka? Jack Daniels?"
"Uh no, a
plain coke will be fine. Thank you."
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This was shaping
up to be a long and very weird night. I could hear
engines as vehicles approached the compound. Sure
enough, people were
showing up for the party. Pretty soon there were thirty or so
people gathered around the pool area. I assumed there were more
inside the house. The crowd was in a festive mood as befit
the July 4th Holiday weekend. The guests were mostly Hispanic with a few
Anglos and Blacks mixed in. I don't know how to
describe the men other than they were rough-looking. Big
shoulders, long hair, muscles, tattoos, lots of facial hair, jewelry,
and, uh, scars.
The men were well-dressed in chic but casual
evening wear. They wore colorful tropical shirts
printed with flowers and exotic birds. There was no sign of weapons.
Based on
snippets of conversation, these were
country people with lots of money. Their language was coarse
and full of casual profanity. They had deep sun tans
and wore their shirts open to display gold and
silver chains. I wish I could come up with a better
description than 'redneck and rich', but that will
have to do. They
were outgoing and warm like many country people. However
there was an edge when they first noticed me. The men made sure to scrutinize
me carefully.
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The women left
me breathless. Several had teased hair like Sofia, others wore it long
and straight. Latin women have always
struck me as the most beautiful women on earth. These women with their long legs and hourglass figures were
seriously attractive. Every girl was so pretty they reminded me of Elena,
the beautiful Hispanic secretary at my day job.
However, unlike Elena,
maybe not quite so innocent.
Decked out in hot pants, mini skirts,
low-cut blouses, and high heels, these women were determined to
reveal as much of their extraordinary bodies as
decorum permitted. I suppose they were
used to being stared at. None of them seemed to mind
my wide-eyed appreciation. If
the mobsters decided to kill me, at least I could
carry the vision of these women to my next destination.
I kept pinching
myself to make sure this wasn't a dream. I was not
sure how to
behave around these people, but there was one thing I was certain
of... under no circumstance would I flirt with these women.
That seemed like a surefire
recipe for my disappearance from the face of the Earth. I was
afraid to even smile. Nor would
I dream of touching one of these sirens. Well, change that. I could
dream, but it stopped there.
Unfortunately, these
ladies
did not help. In fact, they went out of their way to put my
life in danger. These ladies were born
attention-machines. They lived to be admired. One by one or two at a time, they strolled past, working their hips,
batting their eyelashes, greeting me with
warm smiles. Some stopped to say something like "how
ya' doin' tonight?" or "Are you the teacher? I
can't wait to boogie, save me a dance!"
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I was flattered by the attention, but
nervous
nonetheless.
They reminded me of the aggressive women at the Jet Set
Club, but way better-looking. However, I
did not dare make eye contact for more than a glance. I would
have been much more comfortable if they had let me
appreciate their beauty from a distance. As far as I was concerned, these were
dangerous women, women who
knew their way around men. I had a hunch one way they
validated their beauty was by flirting with interesting
strangers. Noting these femme fatales were treating me to a
parade of sorts, I nursed a sneaking suspicion these women
were playing a game, a contest to see which woman could
break down my reluctance.
To be honest, these were
not serious advances. I think they enjoyed teasing
me just to see what sort of reaction they would get. This was sport to them, some
sort of ego boost to see who could get my longest stare or
biggest grin.
They seemed to know that even though I was on guard, my involuntary
response would reveal the winner. However, there would be no winner of this particular beauty contest because I
refused to play. Noticing a couple men who studied me
with narrow eyes, I began
looking off into space. I pretended to admire the tall pine trees that towered above the wall
or the red and white flowers brought in for the party. Whatever went
on in this place, I didn't want to know about it. No
point in making anyone suspicious by appearing nosy. I sipped my coca
cola
and minded my own business. Gee, aren't the flowers lovely at this
time of year?
I don't know why they wanted
me here so early. I was irritated at being forced to wait for
nearly two hours. As dusk
turned to dark, a stream of new guests brought to count to
60
people. At this point, a buffet of lavish
proportions was made available. There was no official dinner, just a 'help
yourself' atmosphere. There was booze everywhere plus the smell of marijuana in the air. The air was festive as the drinking and
drugs livened things up. That said, everyone kept it under
control. These
people laughed and casually danced freestyle to the music with a drink in one hand. Noticing how popular the dancing
was, I wondered what they needed me for. I noticed that every ten minutes the noise level went up another decibel. They were warming up for the big night. Someone invited me to
help myself to dinner, so I accepted. I found a bartender and asked for a 7-Up
just to avoid confusion. I wasn't drinking under any
circumstances. I preferred to
keep my wits about me.
Around 10 pm Sofia
introduced me to a warm round of applause. That night under
the
Killing Moon I began with the Four Corners. This was by far the easiest and most
popular line dance. Then came the Cha-Cha Hustle, Bus Stop and L.A. Freeway.
The guests really enjoyed the line dances. 30 people participated, mostly women. It was
the strangest class I ever taught, but it was fun.
I could not believe how some of these women moved their bodies. Whatever
they were drinking, it did the trick. These women really knew how to put on
a show. I had never seen a more seductive group of women in my
life. I imagined this was the Gangster version of the Playboy mansion. The men smiled appreciatively
at the show. Me too even if
meant risking my life.
To my surprise and
great relief, these
were the easiest people to get dancing I had ever met.
They reminded me of the Jet Set crowd who liked to drink and let loose. They grooved on everything I showed them with
unbelievable enthusiasm. Too bad all my classes didn't have
this kind of energy. It was fun to teach here. However,
I was nervous the whole time. And when I get nervous in dance
class, I tell jokes rehearsed in advance. Stupid puns were my
specialty. Anything to break the tension.
What music do ghosts dance to?
Soul music.
Where do fortune tellers go to dance?
The Crystal Ball-room.
Why did the dancing knives
get applause?
They
looked sharp.
Why can't dogs
dance?
They have
four left feet.
What do boring people dance?
Square dance.
How do astronauts
dance?
Moonwalk.
What
went wrong at the bank robbery?
The
robber said 'Everybody get down!',
so they started dancing.
Oh,
good grief, did I really use the Robber joke? What is wrong
with me!? I was
so nervous I rattled off whatever crazy thing came to mind.
Thank goodness it worked. It is so
interesting how humor can be infectious. Once I got them
laughing, they laughed at anything I said. Obviously my jokes were not
that clever, but these people were in the mood to laugh. The crowd thought I was the funniest person
they had ever met. Nothing like drugs and alcohol to liven up
the party and improve my reception.
Unfortunately I got so distracted, I never noticed when Frank
approached from my blind side. When Frank tapped me on
the shoulder from behind, I jumped so hard I nearly fell in the pool. Seeing
the startled look on my face, everyone knew Frank had accidentally scared
me to death. The crowd roared with laughter. Thank
goodness Frank helped me save face.
"Hey, everybody, let's
hear it for the dance teacher!! Are we having a good time
tonight?"
After a nice round of
applause, I took that as my cue to stop. I quickly made myself
scarce. The birthday cake appeared and everyone began to sing
'Happy Birthday' to Sofia. Everyone clapped and cheered
as she blew out the candles. Now Frank presented his wife with
an impressive gold bracelet and everyone went ooh and aah.
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Frank made an
announcement. "Sofia and I want to thank all of you
for coming. In the words of the bank robber, 'Let's
get down tonight!'"
As the crowd
roared, I winced. I was hoping no one had noticed my
stupid joke. No such luck. As the music resumed
playing, Frank winked at me. "Hey, Rick, hope you
don't mind, but I stole your joke."
I smiled wanly,
but said nothing as Frank grinned broadly. He pointed
to a crowd of 40 people people dancing freestyle by the
pool. "You were great. You got everyone in the
right mood and now look at all these people dancing their
asses off. Good job!"
Frank patted me
on the back, then went to look for Sofia. Pretty soon,
he was out there dancing with Sofia right along with
everyone else. I marveled at what a good time everyone was
having. This was nuts. This was crazy.
This was the Gangster Disco Party. The Deejay was
playing the hits and the guests were grooving. A
couple women invited me to dance, so I joined them to be
polite. However I kept my dancing limited to the
tamest freestyle moves. Let's not get carried away and
try to show off.
I was reminded
of the old joke. "How the Disco teacher die at the
dance party?" Answer: "The gangster's
girlfriend liked the way his butt moved."
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Just then someone tapped
me on the shoulder. I turned around to see a smoking
hot woman wearing sunglasses and not much else.
"Hey,
Rick, I'm Angelica. I'm Frank's sister. You want to
dance?"
When I saw the
figure on this woman, I nearly fainted. How could I
resist? Once I saw Angelica start to move, I was sorely
tempted to put my hands on
her. Angelica? A better name might be Demonica.
The words to a favorite song played
in my mind.
"In a little
cafe just other side of the border, she was giving me looks
that make my mouth water. She belonged to bad man Jose, but
then I heard her say, 'Come a little bit closer, I'm all
alone and the night is so long.'"
Good lord,
Demonica could get me killed! Hmm. It might be worth it.
Nevertheless, I did my best to keep my hands
to myself. Angelica was very amused by
my obvious discomfort. She decided to give
me a hard time.
"I
think you're holding back, Rick. I know
you can do better than that. Come on, let it go. Dance a little and
have some fun! Show me what you can do."
When she licked
her lips and added a big smile, I felt a mixture of desire
and fear rush through my body. "Look, Angelica, I'm the hired help and this is a no-win
situation. Believe me, I would love to cut
loose, but I don't want to upset anybody."
Angelica smiled and
nodded.
"That's cool. I know where you're coming from."
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Oh, what a babe! Be still my
beating heart. In any other situation but this, I
would be head over heels for the chance to dance with a woman of
Angelica's magnitude. But this was the wrong place.
Needing a good excuse to disengage, just then Sofia walked
by. On the spur of the moment, I said, "Hey, Sofia, come dance
with me!" I had no business being so forward, but it
was done on impulse. I did it half to acknowledge Sofia, half to escape the
dangerous temptation presented by Angelica.
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Sofia beamed.
"I'd love to!!" Sofia immediately sprang into action, but I had a better idea. Rather than
Freestyle, I took both of her hands and began to partner
dance. As I guessed, Sofia was a natural.
Seeing me show off with the birthday girl, everyone stopped what they were doing and began to clap
for the star of the night.
There I was, the dance teacher who couldn't dance, the guy
who fell apart at the Ritz, dancing with this beautiful
woman.
I said a quiet words of
thanks for whoever suggested I learn to dance. What a treat to have this
sensational woman in my arms! Even better, Sofia was
enjoying herself. She beamed as we moved to the
music. Thanks to all the practice I had put
in at the Pistachio Club over the past six months, I knew
how to make a lady look good. I don't know what came
over me, but on impulse I added a risky dip at the end for showmanship.
Like a seasoned
pro, Sofia trusted me completely, so everyone gasped as she
fell rapidly onto my knee. We had put on a good
show, so everyone clapped
enthusiastically as Sofia gave me a big hug. This was
an amazing moment, a weird, surreal moment. Taking a quick glance at Frank, I was relieved to see he wasn't
mad. In fact, he was smiling
broadly. He appreciated that I had made the effort to bring
so much attention to his wife.
When Frank smiled, I knew I would live to see another
day. Who would have
believed it? Four years ago I had embarked on a Dance
Path that had gotten me absolutely nowhere for the longest
time. But I had stayed with it and now things were
finally coming together. This turned out to be
the easiest, most fun teaching gig I ever had. Not only that,
I had just danced with this incredible woman and she loved it. Tonight's poolside dance
justified every second of the years I had spent learning to dance. I felt sorry for those uptight Boy Scouts
who refused to dance.
What a bunch of sissies. It was their loss.
Too bad I didn't have a video. If they could see how
a knowledge of dance could put a woman like Sofia
in their arms, they would have undergone an instantaneous
change of attitude.
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Around 11:30,
people put on swimsuits and hit the pool. Some didn't
bother with swimsuits. The moment I saw one girl
disrobe completely, I realized this party was headed in a
bold new direction. If Angelica came looking for me
again, I was a dead man for sure. It was time to go
while I still could. Thank goodness someone read my
mind. With exquisite timing, a man with a serious face
approached me. He said his name was Robert and he was
Frank's brother. Robert suggested politely this might
be a good time to go. I nodded with overwhelming
relief. Get me out of here before I lose control.
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Robert walked me out to my car.
He looked me square in the eye and said I
did a great job. Robert patted me on the back, then handed me
$500 cash, adding that his brother Frank had been very pleased.
"That's for doing a
great job. We really appreciated your visit tonight."
$500! My jaw dropped wide open.
This was the most money I had ever made in
my life. However, I was stunned for another reason as well. I
had just seen Robert's holstered gun inside his jacket when he reached
to pull out the money. I tried as best I could not to show any
fear, but I wanted to get out of this place in the worst way.
Robert
saw the fear on my face and knew what I had seen. "Hey, Rico,
do me a favor."
I froze.
"What would that be?"
Robert
grinned broadly. "Forget how to find your way back."
How was I supposed to
respond to that? Stuttering a bit, I replied, "Robert, I really appreciate this
opportunity tonight. Please tell Frank and Sofia thank you for me.
And don't worry, I'm really bad with directions."
To his
credit, Robert smiled. The guards watched as
I got in the car. I noticed the door
was unlocked. Interesting. I definitely recalled locking
it earlier. In addition, I noticed
the directions to the hacienda were no longer
on the opposite seat. Why was I not surprised? Fortunately I was able
to retrace my steps home without a problem. This had been a crazy,
insane
night. And to think I lived to tell about it.
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august
1978
dead man's
curves
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"Lead me not into
temptation, I can find it all by myself."
A month after
the Gangster Disco Party, I went
from the pot to the frying pan. This time the
temptation was even worse. Why? Because an array of
stunning women signaled interest, but I could not think of a
polite
way to approach them.
As a boy, I
loved reading Homer's
Odyssey. Odysseus was the Greek hero who suggested
using the Trojan horse to end the war. On his way home
to Greece after the war, Odysseus and his men
were captured by Polyphemus, a one-eyed Cyclops. Polyphemus trapped
the men in
his cave, then blocked the exit while he slept. Odysseus and his men
were forced to drive a stake through the sleeping Cyclops' eye in
order to escape.
Soon they
realized they were in worse
trouble. Odysseus had unknowingly
blinded the
son of Poseidon. When Poseidon learned that this Greek
hero
had blinded his son, the God of the Sea made life miserable for Odysseus.
A
huge storm came up that took their ship to the far end of the
Earth. Lost, the Greeks crisscrossed the
Mediterranean Sea for ten long years as they tried to find
their way home. One morning their
ship approached the rugged, mist-covered
cliffs of an isle where beautiful
Sirens called out to the sailors. Circe had warned Odysseus of this danger. The seductive
women sang a
song so haunting that it lured men close to the
shores. Many a ship had met its end on the hidden rocks
below.
To prevent his men from being shipwrecked, Odysseus had the
ears of each sailor plugged with wax. As for himself,
Odysseus was determined to hear the song of the Sirens.
He had the men tie him to the mast and warned the sailors not
to untie him no matter how much he begged to be freed.
Although
Odysseus nearly went mad with desire, he was able to
survive the strange and quite thrilling ordeal. But
just barely.
Now it was my turn. Just when I thought
I would be hard-pressed to come up with a weirder story than the
Gangster Dance Class, I nearly died from an overdose
of temptation at the Belly Dance Academy.
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In August 1978
I was hired to
teach a Saturday morning Disco
class at the Mahal Academy of Belly
Dance.
When I arrived, I was ushered into
a secret sanctum. I was told
men were never allowed
to enter, but they would make an exception for
me. I frowned. Perhaps
any man who taught Disco was considered gay, in which case I was no threat to the
voluptuous women. As it turned out, they were more of a
threat to me than I was to them. Since the class preceding mine was a belly dance class,
the girls wore their belly dance costumes to my class.
As I walked into the inner sanctum, my eyes grew larger than
saucers as 20 scantily clad beauties greeted me.
Concentration was a
serious problem from the
get-go. Right before my eyes, the
classic TV show I
Dream of Jeannie came to life. These women were startlingly
beautiful!! Every single lady took my
breath away. Oh wow! I must be dreaming! Only the Playboy Mansion
or the Gangster Hacienda could possibly compete with this.
The room had long, flowing curtains, dozens of plush pillows,
and wooden floors covered by expensive Turkish rugs. The
room was kept dark as a way to enhance the mood. With
these stunning women wiggling their bodies in their revealing costumes, I felt like
I
had entered a Middle Eastern Harem.
With every delicious curve
on full display, I had a hard time keeping it together.
I simply could not take my eyes off the gorgeous women.
When I played the music, these women could
really move!
Since many of them were training to be performers, they were
not remotely shy about dancing suggestively.
Indeed, these
were the most uninhibited dancers I had ever seen.
Unfortunately, I found their lack of modesty to be
very disturbing. I
was panic-stricken when I realized
I had been turned on against my will. I
was terrified the rising bulge in my pants would be obvious.
Although
I demonstrated my patterns with my back turned to the
girls, the
dimly-lit room featured a giant mirror that allowed me to study
the
exquisite figures of the women. The way they moved, these women had far too much power over me. I wanted to
touch them in the worst way, but that was forbidden.
Indeed, the temptation to
spontaneously grab one of these women was so overwhelming that
I began to tremble. Feeling myself
lose control, I
became terrified of letting my desire get the better of me.
Unfortunately,
some
the ladies in front caught on. I suppose my eyes gave it away or
maybe it was the flushed look on my face. Or worse, the obvious
bulge. The girls found it amusing to see me
so vulnerable to their charms.
In fact this is what they
wanted. The ability to entice a man is the whole object of their
belly dance discipline. My impossible to control lust validated their
feminine power to evoke desire and break down a man's will to resist.
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Seeing me struggle to maintain my composure, the girls giggled
at my plight. However, rather than show mercy and ease up,
they decided to toy with me. The girls smiled
as we danced and laughed at my nervous quips. They
tracked my eyes in the mirror and attempted to make eye contact. Whenever they
were sure I was looking, they did something special with their
hips or their tummies to make it difficult to disengage. Pretty
soon I was
hopelessly in love with
all of them. I smiled at them and they smiled
back. Ultra-confident about their looks and figures, the
women gave me tacit permission to appreciate their beauty. If anything, they
were delighted when I stared.
That's what they wanted me to do. They were skilled in the art of seduction and I was their
boy toy.
I was starting to catch on that
beautiful women take a man's appreciative gaze as a compliment,
especially when respect and admiration are also present.
I also learned that these beautiful women were competitive. "Mirror,
mirror on the wall..." They want my eyes to belong to them, not some other woman. I believed the
belly dancers' flirtation was an ego thing. Placing me in the role
of contest judge, whoever held my gaze the longest was the winner.
Testing their power
to attract, they smiled in triumph whenever my poorly concealed craving
confirmed their desirability.
Towards the end of the hour,
three girls
in front played a mean trick. My guess is these three young ladies
were the consensus Alphas, the crème de la crème. In other words,
their front row positioning was an honor they had earned due to their
skill as well as their beauty. I appreciated them, that's for
sure. Realizing they were my
favorites, the three
women turned it up a notch as I taught my final line dance pattern. As we practiced our
dance moves, the three women began an impromptu beauty contest to see who
could move the most suggestively and distract me, winner take all.
Teasing me with their bodies,
I was subjected to delicious torture. No fair! These sneaky vixens were deliberately fanning
my flames! I hated them,
I loved
them. They knew what they were doing
and refused to take pity. Determined to break my
concentration,
they succeeded. Realizing I was paying more attention to them than
to my dancing, at some point I completely forgot the pattern we were
doing and had to
stop. You should have seen their smiles.
In
desperation I blurted out, "C'mon, girls, knock it off. You win. I can't take
it any more!"
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The girls squealed with
delight when I acknowledged their superiority. In this
test of wills,
they loved that I had to beg for mercy.
I was a good sport about it. I turned off the music, then put my hands up in mock surrender.
I told the
ladies that they were all serious discipline problems.
"You girls are
terrible! You all deserve to be spanked, except that
would make my problem worse."
Fortunately, they
knew my wisecrack was
said in jest, so they laughed in appreciation. Call it a
'backhanded compliment' (pun intended).
It was true, these
infernal temptresses
had my number. Overwhelmed by their exquisite torture, I was ready to risk crashing on the rocks just to get at the
sexy
Sirens.
After
all those smiles and winks
at the Belly Dance Academy,
one would think I would come
away with at least one phone number. I
wanted to approach several of the women, especially the
three who had fun baiting me up in front. But I could not figure out a way
to approach any of the women discretely.
While I racked my
brains for a polite way to bridge the gap, some lady walked
in to escort me out.
Since I lacked the
courage to speak to any woman with all the others watching, I had
no choice but to walk away empty-handed. I was
full of regret because I was fairly certain those girls
in front were interested.
As they say,
Paradise Lost.
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THE YEAR OF LIVING
DANGEROUSLY
Chapter
ELEVEN:
BEAUTY
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