Hot Stuff – ‘That’ Dance

That next week I didn’t see much of my Canadian beauty. It was a hard slog at work preparing for the arrival of the talent and festi-goers. Each day the land swelled a little more with activity as new entities arrived bringing colour, personality and excitement to the lesbian utopia. The hype built at a frantic pace and one I was not used to.

Finally the weekend was upon us, another dance to attend, more lesbians to choose from. But not for me.

I stupidly waited too long to ask Hot Stuff to be my date for the second dance. When I heard on the grapevine she would be attending with another, I was deservedly gutted. Understanding the procedures for life on The Land was a blistering lesson. You ‘stated your needs’ or asked for what you wanted. Open, clear communication. No assumptions or expectations.

I got to the dance a little sloshed, unable to deal with my feelings of rejection. After doing several laps of the floor, I managed to spot the item of my longing. Something happened to me physically. My mind was no longer in control of the body, senseless yet again.

What happened next seemed to unfold in front of me, it just wasn’t me, not the me I knew.

I glided through the cloud of swaying bodies and worked my way in between whoever she was dancing with or near. I felt magnetised to her, each cell prickled in response to her hammering heart (I could feel it), as was mine.

We synched.

I was a lion and she was my prey, both of us equally intoxicated by the demonstration of affection surfacing. Space began to clear as the crowd too became transfixed. I am not an extrovert, but this was a performance that could have earned me money in another setting.

I needed for her to endlessly ache for me as I did her, even if it was only in the physical. I ached for her insanely on every level and my sense for the imbalance made me pitiless. I left the moment unfinished and walked off.