Go-Go Girl
Oct. 9th, 2011 07:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
malka511It is hard to describe my friend Deena. She is a complicated woman, a mysterious character full of contradictions and straightforwardness. I met her on the dance circuit. She was twenty four and decked out with long white go-go boots and a tight miniskirt, dancing to Nancy Sinatra on a Wednesday night at Lucky Bar. That was her job. She danced with another girl who was wearing the same matching outfit. It was a fun, flirty routine. Twist, twist, turn, shake, shake, swirl. Do the monkey. Do the swim. Yeah, baby! Her copper hair glistened under the stage lights, her silhouette beckoned against the white backdrop. For a night, she was like a rock star, a celebrity, as fans raised their arms in the air following her mesmerizing dance, touching the stage hoping to catch her eye.
Later she would tell me how she really wanted to be an actress, this was practice in the limelight. But she had been working on her craft, taking acting classes, auditioning for plays. Her favourite was Juliet. I tell you she was a classy gal, despite her seedy job location. She loved the classics like Shakespeare, and she had the face for it. Aquiline, pale skin, bright green eyes, sweet smile that revealed small pearly teeth. At home, she was a lady. At night, she was a creature from another world. Grinding and grooving to the music, the beat running through her undulating body.
What was most striking about her was how little she talked, her mystifying silence. She could memorize long monologues in a single sitting, spout verses of poetry and utter other people’s words, but her own were scarce. It gave them weight, importance, the ones she did say were carefully chosen, deliberate. Her voice was melodic and sing-songy, her cadences rising after each small breath.
One night after hours at the club, a man approached her and said he would like to meet her. She had this policy of not taking strange men home from the bar. She never got too drunk, even when offered free drinks. She just turned to him and smiled and whispered that she was “very shy”. He turned away. She brushed her hair behind her ear.
“Let’s go.” She said to her dance partner. There was late night snacks to be had, and quality girl time. That was her way.
Later she would tell me how she really wanted to be an actress, this was practice in the limelight. But she had been working on her craft, taking acting classes, auditioning for plays. Her favourite was Juliet. I tell you she was a classy gal, despite her seedy job location. She loved the classics like Shakespeare, and she had the face for it. Aquiline, pale skin, bright green eyes, sweet smile that revealed small pearly teeth. At home, she was a lady. At night, she was a creature from another world. Grinding and grooving to the music, the beat running through her undulating body.
What was most striking about her was how little she talked, her mystifying silence. She could memorize long monologues in a single sitting, spout verses of poetry and utter other people’s words, but her own were scarce. It gave them weight, importance, the ones she did say were carefully chosen, deliberate. Her voice was melodic and sing-songy, her cadences rising after each small breath.
One night after hours at the club, a man approached her and said he would like to meet her. She had this policy of not taking strange men home from the bar. She never got too drunk, even when offered free drinks. She just turned to him and smiled and whispered that she was “very shy”. He turned away. She brushed her hair behind her ear.
“Let’s go.” She said to her dance partner. There was late night snacks to be had, and quality girl time. That was her way.
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Date: 2011-10-13 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-25 11:33 pm (UTC)