THURSDAY, September
7, 1978
BEAUTIFUL WOMAN #8 OF TEN
the ice
queen
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A very
pretty, but very lonely looking woman entered the
studio on Thursday, September 7. She was here
to take my 8 pm Beginner Partner Dance class.
I am not sure why, but I felt very drawn to this
woman. But it wasn't a romantic attraction.
There was just something about her sadness.
For that reason I reason I kept an eye on her from
the moment class started. Was it my
imagination or was this lady as good a dancer as she
appeared at fort glance. Curious, I asked her
to help demonstrate a move for the class.
Noticing how fluid she was, I asked her name and got
a one-word answer.
"Joanne."
Seeing
how depressed she looked, maybe a compliment would
help. I told Joanne she was a very good
dancer. Then I asked another question.
"Have
you ever had lessons before? Jazz, ballet,
maybe a different Disco class?"
"No.
I danced at parties in high school. Does
that count?"
"What
about the dance clubs? Do you go dancing a
lot?"
"Not
really. I don't know anyone and I don't
like to go by myself."
Realizing I had a class to teach, I was forced to
disengage. However, I watched Joanne carefully
for the rest of class.
Joanne caught my eye
with her phenomenal dance ability.
Joanne was
a looker too. She had a thin, very pretty face
with high cheek bones. She had a
pale complexion accentuated by dark eyes and
shoulder length black
hair.
Joanne was tall, 5' 6", with a slender,
athletic build. She had a sensational
figure and beautiful long legs.
If Joanne
would just remember to smile once in while, I
decided she could be a serious heartthrob. It
might also help if she could learn a more extensive
vocabulary.
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Realizing my
Beginner class was far too easy for a woman of her talent,
at the end I pulled Joanne aside. I
suggested she transfer to my more
difficult Advanced class on Monday the 11th. Since I had several
extra men in that class, Joanne would help balance the ratio.
Besides, it was the right thing to do. Joanne had the
ability to handle that class, so why not give her a better challenge?
"What do think,
Joanne?
Would you like to take the
tougher class?"
Joanne smiled.
"That would be great! Did you say Monday?"
"Yes,
Monday at 8 pm."
"Sure,
Monday sounds good. Or Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, whatever. I'm free every night."
Given the flat,
depressed
monotone of her voice, I was curious
about her response. She spoke with the most
profound look of sadness on her face. Uh oh.
I had seen that pitiful look before. Unfortunately, I
had the Jet Set class to teach, so there was no time to ask
questions.
Realizing I had hit
a sensitive nerve, I told Joanne I would see her Monday.
I gave her a light touch on her hand, then left to head
over to the Jet Set Club. As I drove, I
wondered why a pretty girl like Joanne was free every night of
the week. Something was wrong
here. Joanne was extremely shy. I had heard of women
who are beautiful, but don't know it. I had never met a
woman who fit that description, but now that I had I met Joanne,
I could see it was possible. A woman with her kind of looks had no business
being so timid.
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MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11
JOANNE JOINS THE
ACROBATICS CLASS
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As promised, the
following Monday Joanne was there at 8 pm. These students
were my
Core Group. They were a tight-knit bunch who had
stayed with me through thick and thin. Much to my chagrin,
just recently they had discovered the Jet Set Club. Now a
half-dozen or so attended every week. All the guys could talk
about was the stripper who had disrobed before their very eyes
on their first visit. With a frown, I realized I would
never get rid of them. Oh well, now that these characters
had cost me Marilyn
with their Jet Set antics, I didn't care if they joined me at the
Jet Set. As for Nancy, there was an amusing story about
her. Nancy was so discrete about our relationship that none of them
knew we were dating. As a result each I had to listen to
my Monday night men brag about their plans to ask Nancy for a
date. As I expected, none of them ever actually had the
nerve to approach Nancy. All talk, no walk.
My Core Group students were
currently learning Disco Acrobatics on Monday nights. In order to keep the
ratio of men to women close to 50-50, I periodically had to add a man
or a woman to the mix to maintain the balance. Joanne
seemed like a good choice due to her obvious dance talent.
It turned out that Joanne was not just a good dancer, she was
the best female dancer in the class. Curious, I asked her
about it again. "Joanne, have you ever taken
a dance class?"
"I took a year
of ballet when I was a kid, but my father lost his job, so
that was the end of that. After that, I stuck to
dancing at my high school parties. I like to dance freestyle, but partner dancing
is brand new to
me."
"Have you ever done acrobatics before?"
"Heaven's no.
I've never partner danced at all unless you want to
count belly rubbing at the Senior Prom."
"How do you pick up
these acrobatics so fast?"
"I don't know.
I played basketball in high school and I like to dance.
What can I say?"
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Joanne's natural
instincts and quick reflexes made learning acrobatics effortless.
In addition, she was fearless. If she trusted her partner,
she would let him
throw her around like there was no danger. I was very
impressed and complimented her several times. Joanne never
responded verbally. A faint smile was the best she could
muster. It bothered me to see Joanne wear her perpetual
frown throughout class. In addition, she never said a word
unless someone asked a question. Even then, her answer was
ususally
little better than yes or no.
The students in the
class did not know what to make of Joanne. They tried to
welcome her, but she remained aloof. Joanne made no effort
whatsoever to fit in. Perplexed, the men got in the
habit of leaving her alone. The women of course were
suspicious of Joanne's superiority. They got the idea that
Joanne was too good to talk to them. I did not like where
this was headed and I was right to worry. By the end of
two or three classes someone called Joanne the Ice Queen
behind her back/ The nickname stuck.
By chance, my friend
Marian was taking this same class. Marian was
a woman whose failing marriage had driven her to stay late at
the studio back in late June. She had remained behind to
suggest we go have a drink. I had turned her down because
I preferred to leave women with broken wings alone. Marian
had a hard enough time as it was without joining my complicated
life. Since then, Marian had separated
from her husband and Dancing had become her favorite thing in the world.
Tense and withdrawn, Joanne was the spitting image of Marian
from that lonely night in June. Sensing how lonely
she was,
maybe I needed to have the same kind of talk with Joanne that had
worked for Marian. So after
class I asked Joanne to sit and talk for a while.
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Asking Joanne to
stick around was a departure for me. For most of my
life, I had been extremely self-centered, a trait that cost
me dearly. Look no further than Colorado State.
My insensitivity to others was the likely reason Fujimoto
had concluded I lacked the "proper therapeutic
personality". That was four years ago.
Recently I had noticed a change come over me. I was
starting to put the needs of others before my own. It
started with Marian back in June. Marian was a
good-looking dance student who was stuck in a broken
marriage. Looking for someone to cheer her up, Marian
didn't come right out and say it, but she had picked me.
Although I was free to take her up on her offer and very
lonely in my own right, I had turned her down for a strange
reason.
Four years
earlier at the end my first-ever dance class, I had stayed
behind because I thought my instructor could show me what I
was doing wrong. I was so tense, nothing he said
helped. Realizing how upset I was, my gay dance
instructor decided I was ripe for seduction.
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He called
himself Disco Dave. Seeing that I was down on my luck,
David pretended to be sympathetic. He suggested coming
over to his apartment for lunch. Afterwards we could
practice my dancing some more. Except I suppose David
was thinking something more horizontal than vertical.
Shocked at being propositioned, I rapidly excused myself.
But I never forgot how hurt I had been. Colorado State
was just two months in the rearview mirror. If ever
there was someone who needed a ray of human kindness, it was
me.
I was incensed
by Dave's attempt to take advantage of my misfortune.
He knew I wasn't gay, so why bother? The reason was
obvious. Deeply unhappy people are so desperately in
need of human warmth, sometimes their judgment is impaired
and they make poor decisions. Figuring he could
drop a Quaalude in my coca cola to soften me up, I was ripe
for the picking. As mixed up as I was, if I had one
gay bone in my body, I could be his afternoon road kill.
So when Marian
silently pleaded with those big brown eyes,
all I had to do was snap my fingers.
I had a
sure-fire, more than willing partner, so why did I pass on Marian?
After all, there wasn't much stopping
me. Marian was alone with me at 11 pm pouring her
heart out. With her defenses down, no doubt my
willingness to listen increased her
attraction. It is
amazing how effective 'kindness' can be when it comes
to unlocking a woman's heart. Men should try it some
time. Furthermore, since this was Marian's idea, there
would be no guilt in accepting.
However, Marian was not Fair Game.
The studio had more than its fair share of walking wounded, men and women who were recently out of a relationship.
Fortunately most of these people had their
judgment reasonably intact despite their pain. What they did
was their own business. However, there was
one situation every couple years or so when I met a woman
like Marian whose
desperation
made her acutely vulnerable. Rather than add to her
desperation, I felt it wiser to back off. There were
several women I would meet under similar circumstances over
the years. Marian was the first.
Joanne was the second.
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Joanne obviously
trusted me because she quickly bared her soul. I also
think she needed someone to talk to.
Joanne was a
country girl from an economically depressed area in rural Pennsylvania. She came from a
poor family. Since Joanne's education was limited to high
school and she had no business training beyond typing, she had
trouble finding a job back home. She had a distant
cousin who said the
economy was good in Houston, so maybe Joanne could get a job
here. Houston seemed like her best shot, so Joanne got in
her beat-up car and drove 1,200 miles cross country all by
herself.
Age 24, Joanne was four years younger than me.
However, based on her perpetual frown, she seemed at least my
age, maybe older. I noticed Joanne had the same
hard look I had seen on many of the Jet Set women. I
wondered what had happened to make this woman so bitter at such
a young age. Joanne was attractive, but did not know it.
Her constant frown ruined everything. If
Joanne would just smile and use some make-up, she would have
been very pretty. Unfortunately, she was badly lacking in
confidence. Her attitude and body language suggested she
believed she was quite plain. Hmm. Sounds like a
self-description during my Lost Years. Well aware I was staring at a mirror image
of myself back when the Rejection Phobia reigned supreme, I began to wonder if
meeting Joanne was an act of Fate. Which was strange
because two nights ago I had a similar feeling about Victoria.
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September
1978,
the disco years
Westheimer: The story of a
LIFE LIVED ON only ONE STREET
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"So what brought you
to Houston, Joanne?"
"Fortunately my
cousin's advice was correct.
I had only been in Houston a few weeks in August when I landed a
secretarial job in an office located on Westheimer.
After
I got my job,
I spent the rest of the day driving
up and down Westheimer looking for an apartment
to rent. Every time I saw something, I would stop and
look the place over. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford
anything close to my job so I had to keep moving further
out. I had to settle for something just inside the
city limits. The next day
I moved out of my
cousin's house and into my new apartment on
Westheimer."
From what I gathered, nothing in Joanne's small-town existence
had prepared her for the hustle and bustle of a big city like
Houston. Joanne was a country girl who was lost from the
moment she set foot in Houston.
Joanne grinned. "It didn't
take much time to move. I had one suitcase. My
only furniture was a lamp my cousin loaned me and my TV I brought
from Pennsylvania. I've been sleeping on the carpet for
the past two weeks till I can save up some money."
My jaw dropped
on that tidbit. I could definitely relate. I slept on a foam pad
on the floor for a
year after getting thrown out of graduate school. In fact, listening to this woman was downright scary. I identified with
Joanne's story every step of the way. Her current
situation reminded me of the day I left Couch
Catatonia for my own apartment on Branard Street. The only
difference was that my story took place four years ago while
Joanne's attempt to get through her crisis was
current.
"Have you made any
friends yet, Joanne?"
"Are you
kidding? No one speaks to me at work unless they need
something. My apartment neighbors don't speak a word
of English. You are the first man I have spoken to in
ages other than my job. I hate living in the big city."
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I was
curious about something. Joanne had mentioned
Westheimer twice. Both her job and her apartment
were on Westheimer. By coincidence, Stevens of
Hollywood was also on Westheimer. Another thing that
crossed my mind was the distance from her job to the
dance studio. Houston is huge. My studio was
at least 10-12 miles from her home. Joanne was looking at a
minimum of 30 minutes in rush hour traffic, maybe longer. So
what was she doing here so far from home and job?
"Joanne,
I am curious to know what
brought you to this studio."
"I got
lonely. After a couple weeks
sitting in my apartment after work, I got sick of
watching TV. Back in high school,
dancing had been the love of my life. One
night I saw a Disco couple perform on TV and that gave me an
idea. I had
noticed a Disco
named Ciao on my way home from work, so the next
night I checked it out."
"Why Ciao?" I
asked. I had heard of Ciao, but had no idea where it
was. That said, I had a sneaking suspicion.
"I went there
because
Ciao is located on Westheimer.
I spotted it one evening while driving home after
work."
That's what I
figured. Now that Joanne had mentioned 'Westheimer'
for the third time, I had a sneaking suspicion that
Joanne had picked my dance studio on Westheimer for the
same reason. If so, Joanne lived in a very confined world.
I kept my hunch to myself while Joanne continued her
story.
"So how did
your visit to the Disco turn out?"
"Not
very well.
No one
asked me to dance, so I stood at the railing and watched. I decided that partner dancing looked
complicated, so maybe I needed to take dance
lessons. When I was at the office the next day at the office,
I looked in the
Yellow Pages. I decided to try Stevens of Hollywood
first."
"Why Stevens of
Hollywood? Did someone tell you about the studio?"
"No, I picked it
because it was located on Westheimer."
I smiled
quietly. Why was I not surprised? As I guessed, Joanne had a powerful
fixation on Westheimer,
a
key east-west Houston artery. Stevens
of Hollywood was the only studio in the city
located on
Westheimer. That is why Joanne
had chosen this studio over
several other
studios much closer to her
home. I guess she felt certain to find
it. Too bad Joanne did not bother to consult
a map. If she had looked more carefully, Joanne would have discovered two studios within walking distance of her job.
Good grief, Joanne had been forced to drive ten miles through
heavy evening traffic to get to class tonight.
"So, Joanne,
is your grocery store on Westheimer too?"
Joanne looked
shocked. She blinked and stared like I was Nostradamus or something. "How did
you know?"
I grinned.
"Lucky guess." Joanne was so naive, she
failed to realize she had already mentioned 'Westheimer' for
her job, her apartment, her Disco, and now my studio.
I did not think Joanne was stupid, but she did lack a
questioning mind.
"Hey, Joanne, guess
what? Westheimer is my favorite street."
You should
have seen the way her eyes lit up. Any friend of
Westheimer was a friend of hers.
Joanne
exclaimed, "Really? Are you just
saying that or are you serious?"
Maybe I
should not have laughed, but that cracked me up.
Joanne looked a little hurt because she thought I was
putting her on, so I went about reassuring her.
"I am serious. I went to a school called St. John's for
nine years. St. John's is on Westheimer. In fact, you passed right by my
school on your
way here. Not only that, I almost got killed in a car
accident on Westheimer in my Senior year of high school. I was so
fortunate to escape death, I decided Westheimer was my lucky
street."
When I told her
Westheimer was my lucky street, Joanne beamed.
"Tell me where your school is so I can look for it on my way home."
"Actually, St.
John's is pretty close to here, a mile away at most. Look for Lamar
High School on your left. That is an obvious landmark.
St. John's is right next to Lamar."
"Is there a
cross street I can look for?"
"Sure,
Buffalo Speedway.
Tell you what, let me draw you a quick map."
Easiest map
I ever drew. Since Joanne had wrapped her entire
existence around Westheimer, a straight line plus a few key cross
streets did the trick. Seeing her
watch with intense concentration,
I
felt sorry for her.
Joanne was badly overwhelmed by the big
city. This explained why
Westheimer had become the center of
her universe.
Telling her about St. John's was a good
idea because Joanne felt a kinship. That said, I could not help teasing her about it. You
know me and my sarcasm.
"Your loyalty to
Westheimer is touching, but have you ever considered
going north or south once in a while?"
Joanne grinned
sheepishly. "I know
my behavior is a little strange, but so what?
By
keeping everything located on one street, I never get lost.
I
even have a joke about it. The sun is in my eyes
in the morning. It is in my eyes again when I
drive home in the evening. So all I have to do is
follow the sun. I call my job
'Sunrise'
and my home 'Sunset'.
I
laughed. "You should call it 'Sunset Boulevard'.
That's the name of an
Oscar-winning film."
Joanne
stared at me blankly. Realizing she had never
heard of the movie, I dropped the subject. There
was no point in embarrassing the girl. Since it
was getting late, I decided it was time to wrap this up.
As I rose to leave, Joanne gave me a yearning look that
went straight to my loins. Her look of hunger
reminded me of Marian. We were the only two people
in the building, the door was locked and this woman was
easy pickings. Overwhelmed by a sudden flash of
desire, I was forced to sit back down. Hit by massive contradictory pangs of desire and
conscience, I was completely out of control.
Unsure what to do, I resumed the conversation to buy time.
Feeling rattled, I stuttered a bit
trying to think of what to say. "Um, uh, so tell me,
uh, did you
enjoy your class tonight?"
Joanne nodded,
but said nothing. She had a big smile on her face.
Joanne was ridiculously happy to finally have someone to talk to.
"I'm glad.
You know, Joanne, you are a fabulous dancer. I have
never met a woman who picked this material up as quickly as
you do."
Joanne
blushed a deep shade of red at the compliment. I
worried that I was the first person to say something nice to her
since she had hit town. The moment I told Joanne how
amazing her dancing was, I knew she would follow me through the Gates
of Hell. Right now Joanne was staring at me with
a look that bordered upon hero worship.
Given that
Joanne needed
attention in the worst way, I
sensed the onset of a
serious crush.
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In that instant,
a giant shudder shot through me. Of course I was
attracted to Joanne. How could I not be?
To me she was pretty, probably because she had begun to
smile. And I could not help but notice her
extraordinary figure. This was so easy it was
embarrassing.
Joanne was there for the taking. A woman needs a Reason,
but all
a man requires is a place. All I had to do was pick up
her hand and guide
Joanne to Lance Stevens' love couch in the storage room.
She would follow like a puppy dog, I was
sure of it.
But I knew better.
I knew from personal experience that
loneliness does terrible things to people.
Joanne was not Fair Game. One night
of passion and she would stalk me to the ends
of the earth. Is that what I wanted on my conscience?
Of course not. Yet again I thought about Marian, the woman who propositioned me
two months ago. It was odd that Marian had
been in my class tonight. She and I were friends
now. Did someone send
Marian as a reminder to resist Joanne? It sure felt that way. Unfortunately, it didn't work. I was weakening fast.
I took a good, hard look at Joanne.
Now that she had regained some of her confidence, she was a very sexy
woman. Did Joanne know that men
found her sexually attractive? Probably. I could resist
Marian, but Joanne was another story. Joanne was not just pretty, she had an
hourglass
figure identical to Karen's centerfold body.
Adding to the temptation, Joanne had
signaled permission. Based on Joanne's worshipful
gaze, one kiss and she was mine. If Zeus could have
every woman he wanted, why couldn't I?
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Torn with
urgency, the only thing stopping me were the
Supernatural overtones. Was Joanne another Karmic Test?
I thought back to the day
I discovered what a miserable dancer I was. There was
one dance move in particular that bedeviled me, so I stayed after
class to seek help. When I continued to struggle, to
my surprise Disco Dave invited me back to his apartment. Good lord, I had just
met the man and now he's propositioning me? Dave had taken one look at
my forlorn state and
realized I was ripe for plunder.
No thanks. I was desperate, but I wasn't that desperate.
Now I had met a
woman who was just as vulnerable as me
four years earlier. The similarity of the two
situations was uncanny. Given that I was borderline
mentally ill at the time, if I had accepted David's offer,
who knows how screwed up I would have been afterwards? Feeling a profound empathy for
Joanne's loneliness, I refused to take
advantage. Wearing her heart on her sleeve, I
could see Joanne had placed an enormous amount of trust
in me. To exploit
Joanne the same way Disco Dave had
tried with me would be the end of this girl.
To do so would be the meanest, dirtiest trick.
Willing to do
anything for my continued attention, Joanne was eager to
please. Considering the body on this girl,
a night of casual sex was a pleasant thought. However,
given my belief in sticking to 'Fair Game', I felt a
responsibility to protect Joanne. Now that she had
opened her heart, Joanne was defenseless.
Knowing this,
I felt
drawn to Joanne not as someone to date, but
rather as a woman to befriend.
I had the weirdest feeling that
Joanne had been sent specifically for me to protect and
encourage.
Sensing she needed a friend more than a lover, I
took a long, deep breath to quell my forbidden desire.
Then I set about doing the right thing.
"Joanne, how
would you like to do me a big favor? I am always seeing
new moves at the Disco I visit. I could really use
someone to practice with. How would you like to be my
assistant? Maybe you could come early after work and we
could practice from 6-7 every Monday. Then you could
stick around and help me with my 7-8 and my 8-9 Monday classes. What do you
think about that?"
Joanne's brown
eyes lit up like a firecracker. "Gosh, I would
love to do that! That would be incredible.
Will I have to pay?"
My heart sank
with pity. Joanne broke my
heart with the strength of her gratitude. Good grief,
I should be thanking her! Could this girl possibly be
more down on her luck?
"No, of course
not. You would be doing me a huge favor."
"In that
case, can I start next Monday?"
"Of course, Joanne.
Thank you so much. I am glad we had this talk
tonight.
Listen, it's getting late. Let me walk you to your car."
Joanne
was so thrilled she practically floated to the parking lot.
Joanne had just found an
outlet for her exceptional ability. Even better, she
had found her first friend in Houston. As for
me, I could see having
Joanne to improve my dancing would help immeasurably. But I think
she wanted more than that. So did I. How was I ever going to keep my
hands off her?
I sighed deeply.
This was not going to be easy.
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