Just A Kiss Away

This is a (very) condensed version of a short story I wrote several years ago that has since been gathering dust in a folder. It isn't 'War and Peace' by any means, but hopefully will make you smile during your next coffee break...


“Now that’s what I call shaking your bootie!” hollered an elderly woman as she turned to her friend.  “Don’t you just love watching young people dance?” she said, rocking on her seat to the sound of music blaring out of an equally worn-looking television set.

 

“You call that dancing?” countered her companion, pointing at the screen. She gave the tatty, old wig perched on her head a tug and took a lengthy drag on her cigarette before rising from her seat.

“You want to see real dancing, Mary?” she exhaled. “I’ll show you some moves worth getting excited about.”

 

Wedging the cigarette filter between her nicotine-stained teeth, Betty placed her hands on her pink and blue tracksuit pants, bent her legs and began to wriggle her hips. “Itch jusht da warm-up,” she explained through gritted teeth, dropping ash all over the linoleum floor. Her articulations responded to the deep squat with various cracks and pops. Straightening up, she sucked in her abdominals then shuffled forwards, leaning back with her hands on her hips. One-two, shift-shift, three-four, shift-shift, she mouthed to herself, making her cigarette seesaw with every count.

 

Keeping up with the music, Betty swept across the floor like a push broom guided by an invisible hand up to the television set then, rubbing her body against it, she ran her chipped, red nails along its metal frame. Tossing her cigarette to the ground, she extinguished it with the sole of her slipper in a grinding motion that reminded Mary of Olivia Newton-John’s iconic scene in “Grease”. Betty then helped herself to a handful of potpourri from the ornamental glass bowl on top of the TV. Performing a daring high-kick, she threw the potpourri in the air like confetti and finished her routine balancing on one leg flamingo-style, opposite knee bent and both arms stretched toward the ceiling.

 

“Ta-dah!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

“Bravo,” shouted Mary, clapping enthusiastically. “That was fantastic!”

Betty’s wig had worked its way back to front and was now covering her eyes. Head sprinkled with petals, she looked like a rose bush in need of pruning. The sight of her friend sent Mary into a fit of hysterics. Staggering half-blind to the sofa, her wig at a ten-degree angle, Betty flopped down next to Mary and joined in the howls of mirth.

 

A man sporting a uniform and tag that read ‘recreational therapist’ entered the room. “What’s so funny, ladies?” he asked as he approached them.

“We’re watching ‘Dancing with the Stars’,” spluttered Mary. “Who knew it was such a hoot!”

 

Spotting the cigarette butt on the floor amidst the floral confetti, the young man picked it up. He tut-tutted disapprovingly eyeing the burn mark it had left on the linoleum.

“I’ve told you before…use the ashtrays!” he said. “This is a retirement village, not a saloon.” Betty gave Mary a mischievous glance which was enough to send the two of them into another paroxysm of laughter.

 

“That was quite a show,” said Mary, coming up for air. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“I used to be a house dancer…you know, pole dancing and all that,” answered Betty, lighting another cigarette.

 “You…a stripper?” gasped Mary.

“That was years ago. Don’t panic, I’m not about to pop these girls out any time soon!” said Betty, pointing at her chest.

“It’s…it’s not that…it’s just,” stammered Mary, “I couldn’t imagine working in those clubs…the filth and all those sleazy old men!”

“Let me tell you, darl’, things were different back then. We had so much fun...” Betty’s voice trailed off as her mind wandered down memory lane.

 

Just a Kiss Away wasn’t any old contact club. Dancing occurred onstage or on a platform near the tables, out of reach of wandering hands. Costumes had to be approved by the powers-to-be and dancers were scolded for flashing anything south of a smile. Showing genitalia was a no-no and, when breasts were exposed, nipples had to be covered by pasties. If not properly affixed, they would wander during a performance or worse, they would abandon ship and end up on the floor glued to the bottom of someone’s shoe. One memorable night, a dancer’s act brought a patron to his feet, not out of enthusiasm, but because her pasty had worked its way loose and had dropped into the man’s drink.

 

“Gross,” giggled Mary. “Did that ever happen to you?”

“No,” said Betty. “My mishaps were far more spectacular. Like the time I performed an unsolicited lap dance - literally!”

 

Betty was one of the more attractive dancers at Just a Kiss Away. She had a figure to die for and the most beautiful, startling blue eyes. But, without her contact lenses, she was as blind as a bat. This had worked against her several times. One particular night, dressed in a lacey teddy covering a frilly pair of pink panties and a pink feather-decorated bra, Betty had begun her routine as usual. Stripping to one of her favourite songs, she was half way through the act when an urge to cough overwhelmed her and stopped her in her tracks. Wondering why the stage was suddenly a mishmash of indistinct shapes and shadows, the front line of punters a blur of different colours, Betty blinked a few times before realising that one of her contact lenses had fallen out. Working the stage from memory, she strutted forwards, keeping her steps small and contained. As she reached the spot where her first garment was to come off, she slowly pulled the teddy over her head. Blinded by the fabric, Betty lost her balance, misjudged her position and walked straight off the stage and into the arms of a very surprised patron.

 

“Were you injured?” asked Mary in awe, trying to picture the scene.

“Slightly bruised from the fall but not as stunned as the guy whose lap I dropped into!” said Betty with a chesty laugh.

“How I envy you! Performing must be such a rush.” Losing herself in thought, Mary watched the judges on television reveal their scores to a panting and sweaty pair of dancers. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance…to perform in public,” she added.

“It’s never too late, Mary.”

“I’m afraid it is for me. What about you…anything left on your bucket list?”

“I’ve always wanted to open my own dance school but a knee injury put an end to that idea.”

Both women returned their attention to the television screen and watched the remainder of the program in silence. As the credits rolled, Betty turned to her friend, grinning from ear to ear. Mary didn’t have to say anything. She knew that mischievous expression all too well.  

 

The recreational room had been transformed into a dance hall. With all the furniture pushed to one side, there was enough room to accommodate everyone. Betty was standing out front facing a crowd four lines deep. The last line had participants who were physically less able to move but still keen to take part in all the excitement. There was even a woman in a wheelchair being taken through her paces by an attentive staff member rolling her backwards and forwards whilst she waved her arms about.

 

“All right, everyone,” said Betty. “Remember, there are only three rehearsals left until talent night and we’ve still got work ahead of us, so, let’s take it again from the top, ready?” She pressed the button on the ghetto blaster and on came the music.

Leading a front line of uncoordinated performers sporting plastic bowler hats, Mary, standing front and center, winked at her best friend as she glided across the room.  

This may not be Juilliard, thought Betty, smiling back at Mary. But I wouldn’t change a thing.