FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1,
1978
the disco years
A DATE WITH
NANCY
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On the first day
of September, I had a date with the
most beautiful woman I had ever met in my life. I was a nervous
wreck on Friday night. Theoretically, Nancy was meeting me
here at my house tonight at 9 pm.
Would she come?
I wasn't sure. All I could do was cross my
fingers and hope for the best.
To be quite honest, I
had no idea what I had done to attract a woman of Nancy's
magnitude. What I did know was that my summer of
unending success with beautiful woman had advanced my
self-esteem just high enough that I had found the courage to
reach for the stars. Imagine my thrill when I heard a
knock on my door. Indeed, my courage had been rewarded
When I opened the door, I did
not recognize Nancy at first. The lovely woman who was
smiling at me did not resemble the woman I had asked
out last night. Nancy had done
something with her eyes and hair to make her appearance change
dramatically.
Last night at the Jet Set, Nancy had been a
clean-cut, unusually pretty Latin girl. The woman standing
before me was an exotic
beauty who looked more Asian than Hispanic.
Nancy resembled
the kind of
woman one might find dancing among the rich and beautiful at an
exclusive French Riviera night spot. And what a dress!
Her very expensive and quite skimpy black dress barely contained her
ample bosom.
I was shocked at the
transformation. Maybe this soft and gentle girl wasn't so innocent after
all. Nancy was the most glamorous woman I had ever met. Had
she been a bit taller, I could imagine
a career as a super-model. Nancy was that gorgeous.
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élan was an expensive
private Disco in the Galleria area.
To visit you either had to be a member or a guest. It was a special place, easily
the most beautiful Disco I ever visited. Known for its
vast array of
beautiful women, I was fairly certain Nancy would fit right in.
And, yes, she did fit in. However I had underestimated her.
Nancy was by far the most beautiful woman to walk through the
doors that night.
This elegant Xanadu was more than just a place to go dancing.
The multi-purpose club was divided into several levels.
Two floors were dedicated to dancing while other floors served
different purposes. One level was used for dining, one
level was reserved for business conversation. The third
level was perfect for
wining and wooing the dazzling array of beautiful women.
The club was
frequented by wealthy socialites, rich businessmen, celebrities,
plus a
neverending procession of lovely women.
My membership to
élan had cost me
dearly. However, it was worth it.
I did not come here often, but just to be able to walk through the
door with Nancy at my side was worth every penny.
This was truly a grand moment of triumph.
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Nancy had never
been here before. I could tell by her expression that
she was quite impressed. The first thing Nancy did was ask if we could walk
around. Maybe she wanted to see the place. Or maybe
she wanted to see if she recognized anyone who might
jeopardize her secret. Or maybe she wanted to let the
elite men in attendance know she
was here. Whatever her motives, Nancy moved through the club like
a modern Helen of Troy.
I quietly
thanked the Mistress Book for
giving me the idea to learn to dance.
This date with
Nancy
was my reward for four long years of preparation. All
those years of training were worth it just to have this
woman beside me tonight.
It was
amazing to watch what Nancy's kind of beauty
did to men.
As the undisputed hottest woman at the club, Nancy dominated
wherever we walked. Men would spot
Nancy and whip their heads
around reflexively just to catch another glance.
I'm surprised Nancy did not break
someone's neck. She was the
answer to a chiropractor's prayer. One guy after
another gasped and rubbed his eyes.
I
completely understood. I had done the same thing when I
first saw her.
I had never seen a woman
stared at quite like Nancy.
Nancy's beauty was startling,
breath-taking. She had a legion of admirers as we danced.
By my count a dozen men stood
at the edge of the floor
just for the privilege of watching every move
she made. Captivated by her perfection, I assumed the
men hoped I would give them some kind of
opening to approach. Dream on.
Nancy was that kind of
beautiful.
I wasn't stupid; I never left her
side. Nor would anyone dare cut in.
Everyone knew who Nancy belonged to. Thanks to my dancing ability and Nancy's
preference to walk arm in arm wherever we went, I
became the Alpha male.
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Unfortunately conversation
was awkward. Nancy was quiet by nature. Although Nancy was definitely enjoying herself,
she volunteered nothing. With Nancy reluctant
to talk about herself, I was left in the
dark as to her story. I didn't push because I assumed she wanted it that way for
a reason.
Consequently I did not learn a single detail about her other
than she had an Asian father and a Hispanic mother.
Where did she grow up? Beats me. What did she do for
a living? Beats me. What was she doing at the Jet Set Club?
Beats me. I did not know if Nancy was shy or deliberately private. Nancy
could definitely speak when she wanted to. She expressed herself well when she
insisted on coming to my
house. However tonight at
élan she
barely said a word. I wondered what her silence meant.
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Nancy was the
mystery woman. She was definitely hiding something.
But what? Fortunately, our
lack of conversation did not spoil the evening.
In a manner similar to Karen at the Pistachio Club
earlier in the month, we communicated through dancing just fine. Nancy
liked to partner dance. That made sense.
What other reason could explain how I got a date
with her? Nancy laughed all night long out on the dance floor.
She drew every eye in the room to her, but it did not faze her.
Like she said
when I asked her out,
Nancy was used to it.
The
Mistress Book was on my mind all night long.
If ever there was a woman who had "Mistress"
potential, it was Nancy. She was the kind of
woman men dream about. It had been four years since this strange book popped up
out of nowhere to offer a solution to my fear of a
woman's rejection. Although I objected to the author's
strong views on male dominance, the book had offered
valuable advice on how to get to First Base with women.
However, a different piece of advice stood out
in my mind tonight. The book
said the only way to keep a beautiful woman by your side for
any length of time was to let her go. Since an
exquisite woman would always have a wide selection of men,
the decision to stay by one man's side had to be her idea,
not his. The book claimed that most women are loyal by
nature unless a man acts possessive or takes her for
granted. If a man let it be known he
would not object if she
had a secret fling every now and then, that kind of
confidence would make a powerful impression. There was a
part of me that grasped the unusual logic, but so
far I had never put it to a test. Nor did I think I
had the kind of confidence necessary to pull off a feat like
that.
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Nancy and I
clicked on the dance floor all night long. We were so good
that people
passing by would stop to watch us perform. It was a huge ego
trip to be out there dancing with Nancy.
This
was literally the
thrill of a lifetime.
Watching
men pant over Nancy and knowing she was with me was beyond
satisfying. Of course I understood Supermodel Nancy was the main
attraction. However I noticed women were checking me out. There
were definite benefits to being the guy who held the hand of the most beautiful woman at élan.
Women are competitive like that. If I was attractive
to a woman of Nancy's caliber, by definition I must have something
going for me.
It was no
surprise to have a viewing
party. We put on quite a show. It
did not hurt that I was by far the best male dancer in the
building. Long ago I had cynically noted that men with money had no need
of dance lessons. Given that the walls of élan
were lined with wealthy men, I had no
competition on the dance floor. There were three dance
floors at élan. Mine was the least
crowded. I assumed the men had the sense to avoid any
comparison.
Judging by their smiles
of appreciated,
the ladies were impressed with me. I took their smiles as a compliment.
For a young man who had grown up feeling ugly, this singular chance to
feel attractive was satisfying indeed. Ever since Jenny
had said she thought I was handsome, many an ancient wound
had begun to heal.
As the Reader
knows, I am a fan of irony. I had no idea who I was
dealing with, but I suspected Nancy had used her
extraordinary good looks to escape a poor home and lack of
formal education. And of course how many times have I
mentioned my mother's woeful inability to pay bills?
The point is that two people who came from the wrong side of
the tracks were stars of the night here in the Land of
Opulence and Luxury. Did Nancy share a similar
thought? I imagine she was well aware that her beauty
opened many doors.
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In addition to
Nancy,
there were many
beautiful women at
élan
that night. This was not an accident. The
management understood that women with beauty were a major
asset. Good looking women had the uncanny ability to
draw wealthy businessmen to the club. For this reason
élan
was smart to hand out complimentary free memberships to
attractive
women. I compared it to stocking the pond with fish.
Meanwhile I fumed because I had to pay hard-earned cash for my
membership. During the Disco Era, four different women
I brought to élan were discretely pulled aside
and handed free memberships. At least I had good
taste.
However for some
reason no one approached Nancy. That was a real
surprise. How could anyone fail to notice her? It did
not matter how many beautiful women were in attendance,
Nancy
reigned supreme.
Nancy was the unquestioned Queen of the
Night and she
knew it. This
visit to the Land of Opulence might have been a dream come true
for her as well.
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Nancy had a
wicked little smile. She never said a word, but I
think she took pride in dominating the room. She loved it
when I periodically switched to a higher gear on the dance
floor depending on which man was watching her. Appreciative of my efforts to put her on
display, Nancy winked at me several times. Other times
she squeezed my hand. Holding center stage throughout
the night, we were a formidable pair. I might even go
so far as to say we were a beautiful couple.
I was right about one thing.
Whatever strange world Nancy was involved in had not corrupted
her. Nancy was confident about her looks, yet modest as
well. She possessed an
unmistakable sweetness.
As we sat, she wrapped her arm inside mine and sat as close
as possible. Leaning
against me, she purred like a contented cat. She
seemed so innocent despite her extraordinary beauty. The
oddest image crossed my mind. Nancy
reminded me of a graceful deer in the forest. Surely she
was
hunted and pursued, yet Nancy had seemingly never been hurt.
Of course this was all fantasy on my part. Maybe that
was her secret. By saying nothing, men were
free to
imagine Nancy was whatever or whomever they wanted her to be.
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As we left élan,
I wondered if I had the courage to invite Nancy to come home
with me. Then I remembered her car was parked
at my house. Well, that worked out rather nicely, didn't it?
When we got home, I opened the door for Nancy. Taking
her hand as she got out of the
car, she let me keep it as I led her up the steps. Following me wordlessly into the
house, Nancy turned and
embraced me.
Following an
exquisite night of passion, I awoke first
the next morning. As Nancy slept, I stared at her for an
hour.
What on earth is a woman of this
magnitude doing in my bed?
She was Venus, she was Circe, she was Cleopatra,
she was Helen of Troy. I had never seen a more beautiful woman in my
life.
Who is this woman?
This was a woman who belonged
as decoration on a yacht in the
Mediterranean.
Or walking arm in arm with a prosperous businessman through a
tony European hotel. Nancy belonged with the rich
and mighty. What was she doing here with me?
I had no answer, but I was thrilled nonetheless.
As I
walked Nancy to her car later that morning, for the second
time I asked for
her phone number. Nancy ignored my
request. "Rick, I
had a wonderful time last night. Let's get together next
Thursday! I will meet you at the Jet Set."
That was not
what I asked for, but it was close enough.
We kissed and she was gone. Noting that
Nancy had dodged me again, I wondered
what mystery this woman was
hiding. Is she an exotic dancer? Someone's
mistress? Married to the mob? I had no idea.
Nancy was one of a kind, but what kind was she?
Not once did Nancy ever drop her veil
of mystery. Nor did I pry. But I wanted to.
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TUESDAY,
SEPTEMBER 5
RICK'S CLASS FACTORY
DEBUT
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It was
Tuesday, September 5. This was the night I had
been waiting for. Tonight marked the debut of
my very first Class Factory class. As I
awaited the arrival of 20 students, I was almost as
nervous as I had been waiting for Nancy on Friday
night. Why was that? I had a hunch the
Class Factory was about to
launch my Magic
Carpet Ride into the Upper Stratosphere.
Two
months earlier, July 29 to be exact, I met Deborah
at Stevens of Hollywood under unusual
circumstances. After finishing my Saturday
afternoon private lesson, I walked out of a side
room and noticed a lady fuming over in the corner.
She was angry because Lance Stevens had just
insulted several students in a class he was teaching
on the Main Floor. I had seen it happen as
well, but had no idea why was this woman so upset.
Curious, I walked over to the lady to check on what her
connection might be to this class Stevens was
teaching.
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Without prompting, the woman turned to look at
me the moment I arrived. She barked, "Is Lance Stevens always this rude to his
students?"
Taken aback by her vehemence, I acknowledged that Stevens
had a real bite to his sarcasm. Pleased to have her angry reaction confirmed,
the lady smiled at me.
Realizing I was on her side, Deborah introduced herself and
said she had hired Stevens to teach a 2-hour
Country-Western crash course. Explaining she was here
to observe, Deborah proceeded to add she owned a company
called Class
Factory.
I had never heard of the Class
Factory, but my experience with previous adult
education programs told me this magazine could be the source
of new dance students. That possibility got my attention in a serious way.
When I asked about her program, Deborah handed me
a catalogue. As we watched the class together, I
glanced through the magazine. The Class Factory
offered classes in a wide variety of topics such as Acting,
Computers, Bridge, Spanish and Witchcraft. Witchcraft? Hmm.
Might come in handy.
Most important of all, there was no class listing for Disco.
Over the next hour we became co-conspirators based on
our mutual dislike of my boss. Sensing a growing
rapport, I asked Deborah if she would consider hiring me to
teach a Disco class. Without hesitation, Deborah said
yes. However I would have to wait till her next
catalogue came out. She said my first class would be in
September.
Deborah was a middle man. Using her catalogue to
advertise a class, Deborah brought students to a teacher and
split the proceeds 50-50. Since my name was listed as
the instructor, the check would come to me, not to Lance
Stevens. Now that a Door
had opened to let me to go into business for myself, I
trembled at the implications.
However, I needed a place to teach. For reasons I will
never understand (Cosmic Blindness?), Stevens agreed
to let me rent rooms from him. Side rooms were $15 an
hour, the Main Floor was $50 an hour. At the time I
thought Stevens had made a very serious mistake. Now
that Stevens had unwittingly given
me permission to grow my own business under his roof,
that is exactly what I intended to do.
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As
we shall see, my instincts were right on the money.
This July meeting with Deborah
would go down as one of the most important moments in my
dance career. Deborah had enjoyed my company. Based on
our instant connection, she added my Disco class to her
September-October catalogue. Tonight
Class Factory was sending me the first batch of
new dance students. These were no ordinary students.
These students would belong to me, not Lance Stevens.
Although I had been preoccupied throughout August with my flurry of romantic adventures, I
kept a corner of
my mind dedicated to the significance of Class Factory.
This was the start of something big, I was sure of it. Back in January,
a similar organization known as Courses a
la Carte had shined its spotlight
on Stevens of Hollywood. By guiding a horde of 250
students to our door, CALC had jump-started my
career as a Disco teacher. From that point on, CALC
had continued sending countless students to the studio
during my Apprenticeship. However, Stevens was the one
who got rich from Saturday Night
Fever, not me. Those CALC checks had
gone straight to Lance Stevens. I did not begrudge Stevens his good
fortune. In my book, our arrangement during my Apprenticeship had
been a fair bargain. He paid
me a decent salary and gave me the chance to hone my skill
as I learned on the fly.
Unfortunately,
over the summer our always-tense relationship had soured. Stevens had never
been friendly towards me, but in June he turned
downright hostile. The worst part came when he ordered
me to perform a Disco routine at a club known as the Ritz.
Considering I was new to the dance business and had never
performed in my life, I was panic-stricken.
Furthermore I was not a particularly gifted dancer, a fact
Stevens never failed to point out any chance he got.
Stevens knew full well I was in way over my head, but
refused to allow me to back out. Sure enough, I failed
miserably. Stevens was so disgusted by my inadequacy
he could barely tolerate my existence.
My failure at
the Ritz had
validated Steven's low
opinion of my ability as a dancer and a teacher.
However, there was a Silver Lining. Oddly
enough, his disdain became instrumental to the success of my career.
Stevens was so convinced of my inadequacy, when I asked him
to rent me rooms in which to hold my own classes, he never
blinked an eye. Since I was one
step above a lowly snail, in his mind I would NEVER
amount to anything in this business. Assuming I was no
threat to him, Stevens was
totally Blind to the possibility I could ever amount to much.
"Sure, Archer, you can
rent rooms from me. $15 an hour."
Famous last words.
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In Stevens'
defense, he had no idea that I had just made a deal with Deborah.
Do you think I was stupid enough to tell him? The
timing of Deborah's appearance was incredible. Deborah
met me at the the
exact moment I had completed my Apprenticeship period at the
dance studio. It was an incredible lucky break.
Indeed,
September's
infusion of Class Factory students would give
my career a Quantum Leap. However, I did not know that
yet. This explains why I was on pins and needles.
When we talked
on the phone that afternoon, Deborah reported she was
sending me 20 students. I did some quick math in my
head. Charging $25 per student for 8 one-hour lessons,
Deborah stood to make $250 and so did I. Except that I
had to pay Stevens $15 an hour, which amount to $120 over an
eight week period. As any landlord would, Stevens was
more than happy to make $120 by renting an unused room.
For this reason, Stevens never batted an eyelash. As
for me, I cleared $130. So what is $130 divided by 8?
Roughly $16 an hour. At first glance I was not going
to get rich, but I had plans. However, let's not get
ahead of our story.
At 7 pm on the first
Tuesday of September, 20 Class Factory
students
appeared at Stevens of Hollywood. They were my pioneers, the first
set of students I could claim as my own. I felt
like I should hug them or something, but decided otherwise. I noticed Lance
Stevens look up as a couple of these students disappeared
into the side room. I was worried sick that Lance
Stevens might say something, but he gave no sign of trouble.
Stevens could have cared less. For that matter I doubt
he even paid attention. Good!!
I wish I could
say this was a totally triumphant moment, but it wasn't. The
boy-girl ratio was terribly out of balance. In addition to 4
couples, there were 3 girls without partners and 9 boys. Unsure what to do, I allowed the four
couples to stick together and persuaded the 3 single women
to take turns dancing with the 9 single men. Even
though I made sure to rotate partners, at all times six men were forced to stand there with nothing to
do but watch. And they were not happy. Idle
hands are the Devil's Workshop. Trying to buy time, I talked
too much due to my nervousness.
Well aware of the grumbling,
I was worried because there was no group chemistry. No one knew anyone,
there was a lot of complaining, and much clumsiness.
These are called 'Beginner' classes for a reason.
Unfortunately some groups are clumsier than others and this
was one of them. Things were not going well at all.
What would Deborah think?
Ten minutes
before the end of class, the door opened. It was
Victoria. Noticing all the extra men standing around, she
immediately went up to one and asked if she could dance with
him. The next thing I knew, Victoria was rapidly circulating
among the extra men. I also noticed she made sure to compliment each one. The uptick in the mood of the
class was noticeable. To my surprise, the class
actually ended on a good note. It was a nice break to
get this last-minute boost from Victoria. I
acknowledged my Lucky Stars for sending this gorgeous woman
to my side in the nick of time. Talk about a Good
Omen! At the last minute Victoria had elevated the energy
so much that the students left smiling. I was
incredulous. You know what? I had lost
count of the number of times I had been
lucky over this past year. So lucky that I no
longer thought of it as Luck. I firmly believed it was Fate paving the way.
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THE DIVA
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Victoria was
bore a strong resemblance to Olivia Newton-John. She
was both pretty and beautiful at the same time. Unlike
Karen whose smoldering Ava Gardner-style sensuality made men
salivate and women feel threatened, Victoria's friendly,
outgoing demeanor put everyone at ease. Watching how
she made people smile, my first thought was to call her
Victoria Sunshine.
Victoria was
here to take my 8 pm Intermediate class. However she
had arrived early due to uncertainty where the studio was located.
I was very fortunate. Victoria had singlehandedly
revived the spirits of my downtrodden Class Factory
students. To be honest,
although we had spoken at the JCC only six days earlier, I had
completely forgotten about Victoria. In my defense, I
had a lot on my mind, namely Nancy and the Class Factory
debut. Speaking of
beautiful women, Victoria was quite a looker herself.
Put Nancy and Victoria side by side, edge to Nancy.
However it would
be a tough choice. Victoria belonged in the same
league.
Oddly enough,
despite Victoria's considerable beauty, I was not
romantically interested in her. Nor was Victoria
romantically inclined. However, she was definitely
interested in me. I did not know it at the time, but
Victoria needed me for a very unique plan down the road.
However, as my Readers have gotten used to me saying, let's
not get ahead of our story.
Unlike the 7 pm
class, the boy-girl ratio was well-balanced in my 8 pm class. Since neither of us had
a partner, we danced together a lot. I complimented Victoria on how
quickly she caught on despite starting a month late.
Once I realized how good she was, I used Victoria to demonstrate my patterns. Victoria
was not at all shy. Noticing how she offered several
valuable hints, I was amused to see Victoria had made
herself my unofficial assistant without asking or being
asked. Indeed, Victoria was stealing the show.
Victoria was so comfortable in the spotlight that I gave her
a second nickname, The Diva.
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Victoria's enthusiasm
had made her instantly popular with the other students. Blessed
with charisma in
abundance, Victoria was quite the Godsend. Victoria was easy to
talk to, so I made an effort to chat with her after class.
Victoria
was very
forthcoming. Age 30,
she was two years older than me. Victoria had been a school teacher,
but was now
was a stay-at-home mother to her daughter
Stephanie, age 5. Her
husband Michael was a talented cancer researcher in Houston's
famed
Medical Center.
The two had met and
married in college. Victoria was a cheerleader in high
school and had entered several beauty contests. In college,
she had done some modeling until Michael came along.
Victoria was very proud of
her husband. She described Michael as
outgoing,
athletic and brilliant. Everybody
liked him. Then with a blush
she added he was very handsome. Victoria had
supported
Michael while
he was in graduate school getting his doctorate. After graduate
school, Michael landed a job here in Houston and Victoria
began teaching elementary school. However, Victoria
stopped teaching after she became pregnant. The plan was
for Victoria to return to teaching when her daughter grew old enough.
However,
over the past five years that goal had yet to materialize.
When I teased Victoria
to prove how handsome her husband was, she pulled out a picture.
Victoria wasn't kidding. Michael and
Victoria were the Golden Couple, the kind of beautiful people the sun shines
upon. However appearances can be deceiving. Despite
their obvious blessings, Victoria hinted they had grown apart.
Michael worked long hours to advance his career. He was
exhausted when he got home and often went to bed early. Meanwhile Victoria
grew bored and lonely.
She sat at home
all day long doing little more than care for her
daughter,
watch soap operas, and sit by the pool at the Jewish
Community Center. Victoria said she was tired of playing housekeeper.
As I listened, I
concluded Victoria
was the classic
example of the frustration felt by
many educated women who see their immense talent
go to waste. This explained her performance in class
tonight. She was dying to find a way to become important
again.
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As she got up to leave,
Victoria confirmed my hunch. "Your dance class was first real fun I have experienced in ages.
By the way, would you like me to come early for your 7 pm class next
week? It looks like you could use an extra lady to help
balance the ratio."
I smiled and said I
would very much welcome that. And with that, the Diva walked
to the door.
But then she
turned around and waved. "Thanks again! See you next
week!"
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