The Art School Dance

by Maria Blanca Alonso

  Josh smiled. “Oh, you can trust Virginia, Mr Clarke. The salt of the earth is Virginia, never been known to let anyone down.'

  Taking a pigskin wallet from his inside pocket, Mr Clarke pulled out some notes -it was packed with twenties, to save on bulk- and passed them to Virginia. 'Sixty pounds,' he said. 'Account paid in full. And now I’m taking everyone for a drink. Will you join us?'

  It was like Christmas, with sixty pounds in the hand and the offer of a free drink. Virginia packed away the equipment and they went to a bar named ‘Whispers’, a place as quiet as its name, where Mr Clarke bought drinks for the five of them, obviously well able to afford it. Every note produced was an unwrinkled twenty and Virginia never saw what happened to the tatty ones which were received in change.

  'The guy must be loaded,' she said to Josh.

  He was still the only one who talked to her, the other two probably believing that she was below them and lacking the status of the revered jeweller.

  'Yes, he’s lovely, isn’t he?' said Josh.

  'Lovely?'

  It was a strange word to use, of one man by another, especially when it was Josh who was speaking.

  'Some people will do anything for money, you know,' Josh grinned.

  'But with him? He’s old, obese, overdressed-'

  'And loaded, like you say?' Josh laughed at Virginia’s disgust. 'Everyone has got something to offer, Virginia, and sometimes money can be just as attractive as beauty, brains or wit.'

  'If that’s the case then why aren’t I fawning over him like those other two? I’m as desperate for money as anyone.'

  'Perhaps you’re more subtle than they are,' Josh ventured. 'There again, perhaps you prefer my company. Like I say, everyone has got something to offer.'

  Virginia, not vain, had a little difficulty in accepting this second possibility; her self-confidence was following the moon at this time, was on the wane. 'What do I have to offer, then?' she asked. 'Is it beauty, brains or wit?'

  'At the moment I suppose you can offer sixty pounds worth of entertainment,' he said cruelly.

  He took a cigarette from her pack which was on the table, lit it and sat back, smiling to himself and to a distant secret which might have been hidden somewhere in the decor of the far wall. Those superficial surfaces which Goomer had previously remarked upon began to glow in the muted light of the bar, starkly contrasted by the heavy black curl of hair which Josh flicked away from his brow from time to time, revealing the even greater perfection of his smooth skin. Had she not been in debt to Coral then Virginia would have been more than prepared to give him sixty pounds worth of entertainment, if only for the pleasure of having people see her in his company.

  'It’s a pity I didn’t get any shots of your face,' she said.

  Josh turned to her. 'Oh yes? And why’s that?'

  'I think I could do some nice drawings of you, that’s why?'

  'Ah! So you’re an artist now? You’ve finally decided?'

  Whether she was or not, it would be nice to have his image somewhere, above her bed or in her purse.

  'You wouldn’t fancy posing for me, would you?'

  'Nude? You’re not thinking of anything lurid like that, are you?'

  'No, just portraits,' she said, annoyed to feel herself blush. 'I’d find a studio, do it properly. You wouldn’t have to come around to my squalid flat.'

  'Alright, then. I don’t see why not.'

  It was so easy that Virginia could not believe her good fortune. She took his telephone number -not able to remember where he lived, having been drunk on her only previous visit- and promised to get in touch as soon as everything was arranged.

  *

  She was quick in attending to the necessary details, in finding a studio, dusting Goomer’s lenses and even persuading Gerald to lend her his car. The hire of a studio, although straightforward, did cause her to wonder, though.

  'How long will you want it for?' the proprietor asked her, rubbing sweaty palms together. He seemed curious that a woman, rather than a man, should want to hire his studio.

  'A couple of hours should be enough,' Virginia estimated.

  'And what about a model? I have one or two chaps on the books. I can supply fashion, portrait, glamour.”

  'That’s okay, I have my own,' she said, though she was intrigued by the suggestive emphasis on the last category.

  It was all a little seedy, to be sure, but it was the only studio she could find, it was cheap and the equipment was good enough for her less than professional needs. She hoped that the location would not offend Josh, for he looked anything but seedy as he walked along the street towards her.

  They said hello to each other, she thanked him for coming and he said that it was nothing, he was looking forward to the experience. All very banal. Virginia led him to the borrowed car and they drove across the city, only a five minute drive but in that brief time he managed to let slip hints at a boring home life -’this is the most exciting thing that’s happened for weeks’- at a dissatisfaction with a marriage which offered nothing but the security of a home. It was more honest than any conversation they had ever had in the ‘Corkscrew’ and not the kind of admission that Virginia would have expected to be made after so brief an acquaintance. She was a little embarrassed by his frankness if the truth were known and did her best to discourage further talk of the matter.

  The man with the sweaty palms met them outside the studio and explained that they would have to wait a moment, there was a ‘client’ inside. They waited, quietly self conscious. Eventually the door opened and a respectable middle aged man came out, lacking any photographic equipment but escorting a busty brunette on his arm.

  'Okay?' the proprietor asked.

  'Okay,' the man smiled, and left with the girl.

  They entered the studio and Virginia was made familiar with the equipment, with the flashometer and the umbrellas and the spare camera. An electric fire was already switched on and made the room seem sinfully warm.

  'If the telephone rings just ignore it, the answering machine will deal with all calls.'

  'Fine,' said Virginia.

  'Well, I’ll see you in a couple of hours,' the man smiled, his moist hands moving furiously against each other.

  The telephone rang quite a few times and not once did the answering machine bother responding. One man rang to ask for Gloria’s number, a club owner called wanting to know where his exotic dancer was and a very cultivated sounding lady was eager to describe the services she could offer. In between these interruptions Virginia sat Josh on a red velvet couch, some dried flowers by his side, and took photographs from all angles. She began with full length shots and then, as her confidence grew, she moved closer, dwelling on the face and the eyes which stared back unblinkingly. From time to time Josh would talk, of life and its problems, but afterwards Virginia could not recall a word of what was said.

  It grew hot beneath the studio lights and Josh suggested that he might take off his shirt. While Virginia reloaded the camera, pretending not to watch but sneaking sly glances, he took off his shirt and the tee shirt beneath; she noted the way the muscles in his arms flexed. She then moved him over to a full length mirror to add variety, then to a large cane chair, and finally to the floor. She was getting warm herself, beginning to sweat, but it never occurred to her to take off her jacket.

  'I think that’s it,' she said at last, with thirty minutes of the two hours remaining.

  She packed the camera away, Josh pulled on his tee shirt and brushed back his hair, then they went to the door. It was locked.

  'What must that dirty sod have been thinking we’d get up to?' Josh asked with a laugh.

  'He probably locked the door so we wouldn’t run away with his gear.'

  'Oh yes?' Josh laughed again. 'I think he thinks we were going to get up to something risqué and he didn’t want anyone barging in on us.'

  'Surely not,' said Virginia, kicking at the door.

  'Surely so. I never thought you would
be that innocent, Virginia.'

  They sat on the floor, to have a cigarette while they waited, and entertained themselves by looking through an address book which lay by the telephone. They laughed at the photographs which went with each name, compared the accompanying statistics.

  'Here’s a nice one,' said Josh, reading aloud. 'Roger. Thirty four. Six foot one and thirteen stones. Very athletic. Now I wonder what that might mean?'

  'And here, listen to this. Will pose alone or in a group.'

  'We’ve stumbled on a regular knocking shop here,' Josh believed.

  The book was only closed when a key turned in the lock and the door opened. Palms still sweating, the man entered, first announcing his presence with a series of tactful coughs.

  'Everything go alright?' he asked.

  'Perfect,' Virginia answered.

  The man smiled, as though he understood only too well.

  'He thinks what you thought he was thinking,'Virginia said to Josh, as they went downstairs, and he gave her a strange look, one which she was afraid to interpret. Rather than question it she suggested they have a drink.

  In the nearest public house they sat in a quiet corner.

  'Well, thanks for coming,' Virginia said. 'I think I got some nice shots out of that.'

  'Will you tell me one thing?' said Josh.

  'Yes?'

  'While we were in there, locked in that sweaty room, didn’t you want to do anything? Didn’t you want me to kiss you, at least?'

  Virginia stuttered and muttered, unaccustomed to such embarrassment, thought about the wife Josh had mentioned and the attraction she felt, found herself caught between truthfulness, caution and good manners.

  She had always been the one to do any seducing, the one to take the lead, and now found herself uncomfortable with the reversal of the roles.

  'You did, didn’t you?' Josh said, and kissed her on the lips, leaning his body nicely into hers.

  The simple action eased the tension. Virginia made her confession -of course she had wanted to kiss him- and it was unlike any that she had made before, on those dark Thursday nights in the privacy of the Catholic church of her youth.

  'You must possess remarkable self control,' Josh said, putting his hand on her thigh, and what little she had began to crumble.

  They stayed this way, in close confidence in their corner seat, talking and kissing until Josh announced that he had to leave. Virginia was reluctant to break the contact, but had little alternative.

  'Come on, I can give you a lift. Where am I taking you?'

  He told her, and once in the car he gave her directions, out of the city and along unfamiliar streets.

  It was when she was lost in the suburbs that he told her to stop the car. The handbrake went on and he came across to her immediately, the lights were doused, his body felt soft like a feather pillow and she was encourage to touch him, her rumoured self control now in ruins.

  'This isn’t good enough,' he said, after what seemed to be the briefest of embraces.

  'I’m sorry,' Virginia apologised, thinking that she had already been found inadequate in some way.

  Josh’s hand went to her cheek to tell her that she was not to blame. 'It’s not you, it’s just that we need more time and more room,' he said, lifting his legs over the gear lever and straightening his trousers. 'We need to be somewhere else if we’re going to do this properly.'

  'Then I’ll see you again?'

  'You must do.'

  'But how? Where?'

  'Saturday,' Josh said. 'Denise is away for a rugger match.'

  'A what?' said Virginia, startled. 'You're wife plays rugby?'

  Josh laughed at her alarm. 'She acts as physio,' he explained. 'So meet me in that pub we’ve just passed, about one.'

  He kissed her and left, going along with a happy swagger towards the public house he had mentioned. Back at the flat, with Goomer’s equipment in the communal bathroom, Virginia worked until early morning, processing the film and printing the photographs. Someone banged on the door but she refused top let them in, told them she was busy, suggested they use the kitchen sink if they were desperate.

  *

  'Tell me what you want me to do, Virginia. Just tell me. I’ll do whatever you ask.'

  Virginia told Josh to do whatever came naturally, but the things he did were far from natural and made her eyes water. She shut her lids tight and lay back while her middle-class, bored-with-marriage lover performed his supernatural acts.

  The bed was low and large and expensive, not of a type to which she was accustomed, so she did not fall asleep when Josh had finished with her -it was, after all, the first time in months that anyone had even bothered to start on her- but took in the luxury of her surroundings. Above her and behind her was a mirrored alcove, flanked by fitted wardrobes; other wardrobes were flush with the surface of the opposite walls and she had seen how crammed these were with clothes when Josh had undressed, folding each of the items with an almost cool detachment and hanging them up in preselected spaces. For her part, she had simply dropped her own clothes onto the carpet, excited by the thick pile between her toes when she took off her shoes and stockings.

  'Do you have something against people seeing your body?' Josh asked.

  'No. Why?'

  'It’s just that you shot beneath the covers so quickly, like you were shy.'

  Of course she was not shy, she had been naked before men many times. It was just that this time everything seemed so different, so out of her control.

  'It’s the bed,' she said, bucking her body to make it bounce. 'I’ve never slept in one like this before.'

  'One with a mattress and springs, you mean?' Josh said with a laugh.

  'Not one with so many, I’m sure. It’s so big. Why, you could almost fit all the people I know into this.'

  To Josh this sounded like something else to try, a new dimension to his Saturday afternoons. He rubbed his body closer to Virginia, said, 'Do you think any of your friends would be interested, then?'

  Virginia pushed him gently off, too tired to respond again as yet. Rejected, Josh rolled away, slipped off the bed to walk around to the wardrobe at her side. He was so brazenly naked, as if he was posing again for her camera; he was vain, a trait she didn’t like in a man, but with Josh she forgave it.

  'You really are a bit of a peasant, Virginia,' he said, taking a white bathrobe from the back of the door and throwing it over his shoulder. 'It’s only an ordinary double bed, you know.'

  It seemed that he had already forgotten about the more exciting possibilities it might offer. Virginia yawned and turned over, burying her face in the pillows.

  'Don’t go to sleep,' Josh told her. 'Get up and tidy up while I have a shower.'

  To make sure she did as she was told he pulled the quilt from her, leaving her exposed like some forlorn foetal things. When his bare buttocks had bobbed around the door Virginia uncurled herself, sat on the edge of the bed and dressed. Though her clothes were dry they felt uncomfortable against her damp skin. With her stockings in the pocket of her skirt and her shoes in her hands she went downstairs to the kitchen, searched through the pine-fronted cabinets and found the coffee. She filled and switched on the kettle -everything was electricity, clean simplicity- then walked to the living room while it boiled. All was clean simplicity here, too. A shallow but spacious settee in plain hessian fabric, with matching armchairs set at right angles; the walls were plain pastel colours and the carpet only slightly darker. It had to be like living in some non-committal land, she thought, with everything neuter and neutral.

  Above the electric fire she found a framed photograph of Josh, some years younger, wearing his hair in what would now be an unfashionably longer style.

  'The year before I got married,' he said, stepping into the room, his hair glistening from the shower.

  'When was that?'

  He smiled but gave no direct answer. 'I was young, then. Nineteen.'

  Eight or nine years ago? Ten, perhaps?
The way vain people were so often vague about dates was confusing to Virginia, even though her own unreliable memory made similar matters necessarily blurred.

  The kettle could be heard clicking off in the kitchen and Josh went to make the coffee.

  'Remind me to wash both cups,' he said when he returned, and grinned. 'We don’t want to leave any clues, do we?'

  They sat opposite each other, in the armchairs.

  Victoria nodded to the photograph above the fire, said, 'I don’t see any of your wife.' She had read somewhere that it was civilised to talk of the partner with the one who had just been unfaithful; it was a mature acceptance of circumstances. 'Why is that?' she asked.

  'She’s private sort, prefers to stay under cover, sort of.'

  'Why? What does she do?'

  'She’s just not very photogenic.'

  Virginia could not imagine Josh being married to an un-photogenic woman, but this was all he would say about his wife, though he did hint, as often as was possible, that he was not happy with her.

  Did she nag him? Cause him mental anguish? Neglect his needs? No, it seemed not. He was just... not happy.

  Some more specific reason might have served to ease Virginia’s conscience, convinced her that she was fulfilling some therapeutic function, doing something more noble than merely relieving her own frustrations. Josh would offer no such concrete excuse, though, so she just had to accept his word; he was unhappily married and she was providing a distraction.

  'Isn’t it enough that we both wanted to do what we did?' he asked.

  'I suppose so,' she said.

  Josh got up from his seat and knelt on the carpet at Virginia’s feet, his arms resting across her knees.

  She felt them immediately begin to tremble.

  'If it feels good, do it. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?'

  Yes, Virginia could not deny the maxim, it felt good and so they did it again, they made love on the carpet as Josh had wanted to do in the first place, helping him forget how unhappy he was.