Solace & Rosanna

2003: The homeless woman stared up at Solace’s window. Her bony fingers lightly gripped the handles of her ancient shopping cart, which contained her entire life. Her eyes blazed with determination. She wore a tattered tee-shirt with the phrase “Isn’t It Ironic?” emblazoned in large, red letters. Surprisingly, her jeans and sneakers were in relatively good condition for she had finally relented and used what little money she had saved to purchase them at a thrift shop. Her hair, however, resembled a matted bird’s nest perched atop her head and she intermittently scratched at her scalp to ease the incessant itching. Her thin frame and diminutive stature nearly rendered her invisible—until she spoke. Her shrill, stentorian tones could be heard for blocks as she bellowed her dire predictions. No small wonder passersby allowed her a good deal of room.

The woman could no more explain why she felt compelled to follow the drama of the people she had been shadowing for the past weeks than a cat could write its name. She only knew that she had awakened one morning with intense, overwhelming feelings, which caused her to roam the streets of New York City in search of total strangers who needed her particular guidance. She had made herself known to the rose and now she would see what reception she received from the one who gave comfort.

“Hey, what are you doing?” a voice called, “Get outa here!”

She paid no attention and continued her vigil.

“Did you hear me? I said get outa here,” came the booming, insistent male voice.

The woman turned to see a tall, burly, bearded, man wearing glasses coming towards her. He wielded a newspaper and made as if to swat at her as if she were an insect. She rummaged in her shopping cart for the can of mace. Brandishing the weapon, she watched his approach. He stopped short, noticing the object in her hand.

“Hey! You can’t have that! It’s illegal. I’m gonna call the police.” He reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

“I only want comfort here. I don’t want trouble. I don’t want trouble,” she stammered, waving the can in front of his face.

“Well, there’s no comfort for you here. Go to a shelter or some place,” snarled the man as he held the phone to his ear.

“I have to give the rose comfort. That’s my job. I have to give the rose comfort. Comfort is here.” The woman shuffled nervously from one foot to the other, one hand on her can of mace, the other in a white-knuckle grip on her shopping cart.

“I told you. There’s no comfort here for you. Hello? Yes, I’d like to report a homeless person who needs to be escorted to a shelter. She’s being a nuisance.”

“Liar!” shouted the woman. She had simply been standing there. She knew her rights. She had a right to be wherever she wanted as long as she wasn’t harassing anyone. That is what her case worker had told her, and she made a concerted effort to adhere to that rule.

At that moment, Solace came hurtling down the steps, hair flying, white cane thrust out in front of her. She’d had to turn back three times because she had nearly left her apartment without her MYM identification card, her transportation card and, unbelievably, her dance shoes. She wore blue shorts, a white tank top and white sneakers, minus socks. Her dance bag was slung over her shoulders. She and Jessie had gone to their favorite cabaret, and she had slept late as a result of getting home at one o’clock in the morning. She was now in danger and dread of breaking one of Ardena’s most sacred rules.

She heard the booming voice of Adam Hunter, her neighbor. What was he going on about now? She hoped she could just slip passed him without becoming embroiled in another of his rants. As her feet hit the pavement, she noticed someone standing in her way.

“Excuse me,” she said, trying to move to one side. The stranger blocked her path. “Excuse me,” she repeated, annoyance and impatience coloring her tone.

“You are comfort. Your rose needs comfort,” came a firm, clear female voice.

“Don’t listen to her, Solace. She’s just a homeless woman. I was calling the police to have her taken to a shelter.” Adam piped up. He withdrew a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and mopped his perspiring forehead. The humidity was stifling and oppressive, but he was too self-conscious about his excessive body hair to wear shorts. He noted, with appreciation, Solace’s lovely even tan and fit physique.

Solace barely heard Adam. Her mind fixed on the woman’s words. Did she know this woman? No, how could she? Adam had said she was a homeless person.

She turned to him. “Adam, calm down or you’re going to have a heart attack or a stroke in this heat.” She turned to face the woman. “I don’t think I know you, but you seem to know me—at least you seem to be trying to tell me something. But I really don’t have the time to figure out what it is. I’m late enough already.”

Had Adam not alerted her, Solace would not have known that the woman was homeless, for she could not see the disreputable state of her hair and clothes. She would simply have assumed that the woman was either on the way to or from a laundry facility.

“Adam, leave her alone. Was she bothering you or something?”

“No, but—“ Adam began lamely.

“She does have a right to walk the streets, you know.”

“She was staring up at your window, Solace. You never know what people are going to do these days. She could be psychotic. She should be in a place where she can get some help,” he said with conviction. Remembering his cell phone, he punched the END key and returned it to his pocket. It seemed the woman was making motions to leave.

“Adam, you’re a great block watchman, but I don’t think this woman is going to hurt me or anyone else. She just seems to have a message for me, which is really strange but--” Solace pressed her watch; she was going to have to run to the bus stop. She prayed she wouldn’t have to wait too long. She grimaced, imagining the looks of bewilderment she would receive as she jogged with her cane. “I have to go.” With that she trotted off down the block, leaving Adam to his righteous indignation. She could hear the creaky cart behind her. She felt her stomach give a little lurch. The woman was following her. Why? Hadn’t she relayed her message—something about comforting a rose?

Adam lumbered, panting profusely, behind the woman and Solace. He wanted to see where she was going. He had appointed himself Solace’s bodyguard—at least in the neighborhood, and he felt it was his duty to see that she was safe from vagrants and muggers, if he was able. He turned the corner in time to see Solace hopping on the bus and the woman standing there, muttering. He watched her make her way up the block and hoped it would be the last time they crossed paths.

Solace dashed into Make Your Moves. She waved a hasty greeting to Franz and ran to the locker room. She had five minutes before Ardena locked the door. She thought she probably should not have come, as she was unable to come early and learn any new steps. Please, let her do stuff I know today. She quickly disrobed and donned her dance outfit, unaware of the appraising stare she was receiving from Casey Deans, who was also late--again. Casey licked her lips as she watched Solace strip off her form-fitting shorts and tank. She briefly stood there, clad only in her bikini’s and bra, her smooth, taut body a sight to behold. Casey could barely tear her eyes away long enough to put on her own dance gear. Solace’s creamy complexion, kissed with a hint of caramel, was positively mouth-watering. She was sorry to see Solace dress so hurriedly and was even sorrier that she could not undress her. She, too, placed her clothes in her locker and strode over to the now dressed woman.

“Hey, Solace. It’s Casey. I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s late today,” she called as she approached.

“Casey? You know, I don’t even know why I came today,” Solace said breathlessly. Without thinking, Casey took Solace by the arm and led her towards the door. Solace was surprised but said nothing and allowed herself to be escorted. They walked briskly towards the dance studio and arrived just as Ardena was marching towards the door, ready to lock it. Casey held up a hand and ushered Solace through the door.

“We made it, Ardena. You can’t lock us out,” Casey smiled triumphantly.

L.D. watched Casey escort Solace into the room. She knew Solace was capable of finding the room on her own. She became instantly suspicious. Where had they met? Had they come together at all? She would find out. She did not trust Casey. She had seen the open, hungry stares the woman had been giving Solace over the past weeks. Her internal fuming came to an end as Ardena called the class to order.

“Okay, folks. We’re going to have a short warm-up session because I want to get right into rehearsing. I also expect you all to book some time to come in and practice on your own. I’ll want to see your dances in two weeks--and they’d better be perfect. You know MYM not only depends on your fees, but on its patrons. You also know that you do not want to get up there and embarrass me—or yourselves. Nervous laughter exploded around the room.

Oh, thank God, Solace thought. She’s not going to do anything new. I’m saved. She breathed a sigh of relief.

They ran through their warm-ups in record time and paired off with their respective partners. The next thing Solace felt was L. D.’s presence, followed by her strong, firm hand in hers.

“Are you ready, Solace?” she asked as she stood in front of her, waiting for their theme music..

“I think so. I enjoy the music to our dance so much; it’s so sensual.” Solace felt herself blush at this admission. She really should think about what she was going to say before she simply blurted it out. She stood there, uncharacteristically quiet, waiting to see what consequences her words would have—if any. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own and she had recently found herself fantasizing about Ms. L. D. Jansen. At these times, she would be torn between her feelings for Rosanna and the definite physical attraction she felt for L. D. She rationalized that it was the intimate nature of their performance. Ugh, life was just too complicated sometimes.

L. D. smiled and blushed in return, noting Solace’s casual use of the word sensual. For reasons she could not fathom, Solace’s presence reduced her to a mass of quivering lust, her eyes becoming slightly unfocussed and her body tingling from the roots of her hair to the tip of her toes. It was a delicious feeling and L. D. savored the moment when… What? There were few women who had produced such an intense reaction in the ultra-cool Ms. Jansen. They were both yanked back to attention by the sharp rap of Ardena’s stick and her calling of their names.

“Are you two going to dance or stand there and discuss the moves?” Ardena asked sarcastically. The women had missed their entrance. Their instructor was a perfectionist and she would not tolerate inattentiveness in her dancers. She glared at L. D. since she knew the gesture would be totally lost on Solace. But she knew that Solace could hear the impatience in her voice.

Solace and L. D. snapped to attention and moved to the middle of the floor. Their music began and they went through their routine with only a few minor glitches.

“Not bad, but it needs practice, ladies. It has to be flawless and seamless. Set up some practice time during the next two weeks.” Upon delivering this edict, Ardena turned to see the next group who were assembled and ready to go as their music began.

“Can you make any practice sessions this week, Solace?” L. D. asked hopefully.

“I’ll have to. If I know Ardena, she won’t let us perform if it’s not up to her standard.”

“How about Monday evening?”

Solace checked her mental calendar and told L. D. that would work.

“Shall I book the time here or do you want to do it?” she asked as they moved towards the exit.

“I…have a dance studio in my apartment. We can work there…for nothing.” L. D.’s heart raced. She did not know whether Solace would feel comfortable working there, but she thought she should at least ask.

“Wow! Now that is too convenient.” Solace rolled the thought over in her mind and gave her answer. “That would be fine, L. D. I’ve never seen a private dance studio. It’ll be a new experience.

L. D. released a silent breath of relief. She was going to have Solace Tynan all to herself—at least for a rehearsal. Feeling emboldened, she ventured, “Maybe we could have something to eat afterwards. Would that be possible, Solace?”

“You’ll be sorry, L. D. I eat like a cow after a dance workout.” Solace replied with a grin..

“I think I’ll be able to provide enough food for you from somewhere,” L. D. answered confidently.

They arranged to meet at a common spot where L. D. would then take her to her apartment. Impulsively, L. D. leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Solace’s cheek. She thought she would have an orgasm right there in the middle of the corridor.

For Solace’s part, she was surprised by the kiss, but not unpleasantly so. Her emotions swirled. The women parted with more than dancing on their minds.

On Monday, L. D. prowled her favorite haunts, searching for cheeses, breads, and pastries, which she thought Solace might find delectable. She did not raid The Jansen’s wine cellar because she and Solace really did need to practice and alcohol would be counter-productive to that particular activity. Perhaps next time—and she desperately hoped there would be a next time.

Solace met L. D. at the appointed bus stop. L. D. asked if she could take Solace’s arm but Solace gently refused the offer, saying she would be fine unless some unsuspecting pole decided to make her acquaintance. L. D. winced at the image. Becoming accustomed to Solace’s humor regarding her visual impairment would take some time. She did, however, take her arm once they reached The Jansen and Solace did not protest as her vision was next to nil in dim lighting. She was unable to see the expensive yet tastefully-appointed lobby or the raised eyebrow of John Dodge, the security officer. She was also unaware that L. D. was leading her to an elevator until she heard her press a button..

Solace’s senses immediately went into warp speed and she began to ramble, “Uh, L. D, why can’t we walk? I’m very good with stairs.”

L. D. noted Solace’s mood change with mild surprise. “The elevator leads right to the studio. It’s faster and it’s only one floor down,” she answered, trying to reassure her guest. She took Solace’s hand; it was ice-cold. “Don’t worry, Solace. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not you. It’s the elevator. What if it stops or something?” Solace asked, her voice beginning to rise in pitch and intensity.

“That won’t happen. This elevator is very reliable. Don’t you ever take elevators, Solace?”

“I try to avoid them as much as possible. I hate them. I have to use one when I go to my chorus and it still freaks me out after all these years.” Solace could feel beads of perspiration trickling down her blouse, causing it to stick to her. Goddess, get me through this with a modicum of dignity, she begged.

The elevator arrived and L. D. gently prodded Solace inside and the doors closed silently behind them. L. D. pressed the button for the studio and…nothing. The car did not move.

“What’s happening?” Solace shrieked.

“It’s okay, Solace. Calm—“

“Heeeeelp!!!” Solace screamed before L. D. could get in another word.

“Solace, please.. We’re okay. L. D. was doing her best to stay calm because it was obvious that Solace was becoming completely unglued. Damned elevator!

“L. D., do something. Press a button. Do something!” Solace wailed, slumping to the floor.

Remembering, L. D. pressed the Door Open button and the doors slid open on their well-oiled track. Solace leapt up and flew out into the lobby.

“I am not getting back in there, L. D. I am not! Why didn’t it go down?” Solace was shaking furiously and she was having difficulty catching her breath.

L. D. crossed to her and placed a protective arm around the smaller woman’s trembling shoulders. “We were only stuck for a few seconds, Solace. We’re okay.” She soothed. L. D. looked up and glared at Dodge, who was boldly staring. She gave him a look that said “Say anything about this and you’re outa here”. Dodge moved back to the entrance thinking that Ms Jansen had her hands filled with this one and still wondered how she managed to find such beautiful women—even if they were hysterical.

“There is no such thing as seconds when you’re stuck in an elevator; time stands still.” Solace held on to L. D. She could feel her breathing slow and a sense of control return to her battered nervous system.

“Okay, Solace. We’ll take the long way down.”

“Thank you.” Solace sighed as she took L. D.’s arm. They made their way down and around until they reached the elaborately decorated doors of the renovated ballroom. She flung open the doors and guided Solace into the cavernous space.

“You know, L.D. when you said you had a dance studio, I don’t think a room the size of the Roseland ballroom came to mind. This is amazing. Solace twirled around the floor and L. D. followed her. She took Solace’s hand and they did an impromptu Waltz around the polished floor. They followed the rhythm of their bodies and only stopped when they had run out of breath. Solace and L. D. stood there, breathing deeply, standing only inches apart. Indulging her fantasy and curiosity, Solace wound her arms about L. D.’s neck, drew her close and sought her lips. She could not help the fleeting comparisons to Rosanna, which she would think about later. The kiss began soft, tentative, and exploratory, and they melted into it as if sinking into marshmallow cream. As it became more urgent, L. D. nearly crushed Solace with the force of her wanton embrace. She was drowning in arousal and would have eased them onto the hardwood floor had Solace not withdrawn her lips. They stood again, panting and flushed.

“I’m…I’m… We better practice. Is there somewhere I can change?” Solace said, fighting her own rising desire for her sensuous dance partner.

Finally coming to her senses as well, L. D. said, “Of course. I’ll show you…I’ll take you. It’s this way.” She led Solace to what was once a powder room. As Solace closed the door to the room to allow some measure of privacy, L. D. leaned against it. How am I going to do this? I want her so much. I’m not sure I can do this. Her inner voice commanded, “Of course, you can do this L. D. Get a grip. L. D. was thrilled, though, to find that Solace was also attracted to her. She wasn’t even bothered by the fact that Solace had made the first move. But in a way, she had started it by kissing Solace on the cheek. She knew they had both felt the fire and thrilled to think of the moments to come. She crossed the room with a confident swagger and prepared their music.

Solace emerged and they commenced practicing their routine. Rough spots were worked out until it was to their, as well as Ardena’s, high standards. They were unaware of the time until Solace pressed her watch and it announced the time to be 9:30.

“I’ve got to go.” Solace said as she reluctantly disengaged herself from L. D.

“Are you hungry? I have all kinds of goodies for you.” L. D. said, disappointed that the evening was coming to an end.

“I’m always hungry,” Solace said with a sly smile.

L. D. guided her to a table set with silver trays. She uncovered each, describing its contents and offering Solace a taste of each item. She held Solace’s fingers just a little longer than was necessary as she handed her each delicacy. The gesture was not lost on the other woman. True to her word and her appetite, Solace devoured almost everything in sight.