When I was a young
teacher, in my early twenties, I came to a dance at a social club one evening. There
were quite a few officers and rank and files from a battalion of Irish
fusiliers, stationed in the town, at the dance.
I had a Stengah in my hand at the bar while I
watched the dancers on the dance floor. Very soon, I spotted an attractive,
rather statuesque, young, white girl dancing. She was dancing the fast numbers - the jives,
the rock-‘n- rolls, the cha-chas with a few young soldier boys. No one asked
her to dance the waltzes.
After a couple of Stengahs, I had the Dutch courage to
approach her to dance a waltz. When she stood up, she towered over me. I led
her on to the dance floor and we began waltzing. I was quite apprehensive at
first but we soon hugged closely and swayed gently to the rather slow soft
music. Then she nestled my right cheek to her cleavage. I felt quite thrilled
and comfortable dancing that way. I ended up dancing with her all the slow
numbers as no one else wanted to do so.
I found out that she was
the daughter of the ranking officer - a colonel - of
the battalion. I had no chance of asking for her contact number as I was more thrilled dancing silently with my right cheek on her breast.
Looking back later, I
felt fortunate that the young soldiers were not interested in dancing the slow
numbers with her. None of them had any objections to my dancing with her,
either. Otherwise, I might have been accosted and then bashed up by them after
the dance.
ltbs
Dancing is the loftiest,
the most moving, the most beautiful of the arts, because it is no mere
translation or abstraction from life; it is life itself.
Havelock Ellis
