Authors note: This is so mild it barely warrants being on this site, but it still has some elements that may appeal.
*****
As the crowd pulsed to the throbbing beat emanating from stage, I dialed back some of the high end so all that came through the front of house speakers was the faint scent of a melody, but the energy was all kick drum and bass. The crowd moving in coordinated rhythm, this was pure, unadulterated sexual energy that kept a steady, grinding pace. Fans of The Stromatolites moved in waves, involuntarily, as the mass of humanity rose and fell around them. Even though I could see only the backs of slowly nodding heads from my position at the mixing desk, I could sense that the people in front of me had abandoned themselves to the moment. This is what it was all about. I just had to keep my focus on tones, textures, volumes, movements, frequencies. Don't lose focus, a loose feedback or stray tone breaks the illusion.
I was focused on Jimmy, the guitarist, as the LED backdrop rose, and I noticed the crowd abandon their reverie, bodies falling out of sync, heads whipping around looking for explanations from their equally perplexed peers, and I perceived the disruption behind drummer Arnold Tee. Replacing the digital renders of cartoon monkeys was a girl. Wearing nothing but a silky black G-string she danced wildly on her own, head and long blonde hair thrashing, her hands slowly rising from her tummy, past her pert, hypnotic breasts, and crossing over her head, as her hips gyrated left and right to the kick drum. The crowd paused momentarily and, suddenly, like some secret conductor had swung his baton, they resumed their synchronised dance, but this time with eyes fixed solely on the nearly naked girl on stage. She was oblivious to the effect. And I was on this tour for the next three weeks.
***
I knew the whole crew working on the show, and there was no dancing girl scheduled. The next night, in a new town, I kept a closer eye on the stage as the band got to the last few songs. I saw the manager, Sam, come out from side stage and talk to a group of girls, and they were led away through the VIP doors.
Sam made a fortune in a tech start up, and wanted to party with bands, so used his myriad of high flying contacts to become The Stromatolites manager. He was a polite, business savvy 26 year old, and I liked him. He wasn't stuck up or entitled, even though he didn't need this band caper to prop up his ego or his bank account. It seemed he really did love the music.
It wasn't a surprise to see another girl dancing when the screen rose this second night, but I was mildly taken aback that she was even less dressed than the girl last night. A darker toned, black-haired Spanish belle flexed her considerable dancing talents entirely in the nude, much to the delight of the crowd, many who may have heard about the show-stopper two songs from the end. The girl this night could really dance, she turned, shook, spiraled and jumped in all her glory, her long black hair flicking over her breasts rapidly. And each thrust of her hips made every male gaze take notice of her trimmed bush concealing her sex, but it was the coordination of her inertial skin with her athletic bones that really made her performance soaked in sex.
She waved unassumingly to the crowed as she departed, and as the buzzing sound of Jimmy's guitar filled the music hall for the last song, I had questions doing some buzzing of their own.
How does Sam convince girls to dance naked on stage? Is he offering money? Was it pre-planned? Why did he take a whole group of girls through the VIP doors, but only one was onstage? Are they being screened for their subservience? Why do I want to know so badly? Is it because I want the power to control a girls behavior?
These questions were unresolved as I prepared my booth in another county for the third night of the tour.
***
At the same point in the set, Sam came out again, and this time took only two girls through the VIP doors. I paid close attention, in the hope that I might see them after the show if I could clean my desk up and intercept them at the tech room. One was blonde featured with short-cropped hair (Annie Lennox incarnate), and the other a shoulder length brunette undercut up on her temples.
The blonde made the cut this night, again in the nude, but shaved clean so her lips could be seen stretching as she bent to the floor during one of her improvised crouch moves. It wasn't sexy, and I realised that Sam couldn't have planned this. He has far too high standards to let this girl's amateur dance routine make it deliberately on stage. Something else was going on. Sam's perfectionism hadn't manifested itself in quality of the dancing. It was the catch that he had perfected. That he could get a naked girl from the audience to dance on stage at a moments notice was the game.
I delegated a few post-show tasks and waited outside the door of the tech room, at the end of the corridor where the bands green room was situated. If the girls stayed back for some drinks (as was the want of a certain lead singer), they should pass by at some time. And it was only 20 minutes before the giggling duo made their way down the hall toward me.
"Hi ladies, hope you enjoyed the show!"
"Yeah..." as they both their eyes rolled in unison and didn't break stride.
"Hey!" I called at their backs, and they both stopped and turned. "I was mixing the show tonight, and I noticed you both got pulled out of the crowd to come backstage?"
"Oh cool! Great mix man!" said the blonde. My modicum of cred might let me ask a few questions.
"So you got to see the show backstage huh?"
"See the show? I was the show!" the blonde volunteered. And they broke out into conspiratorial giggles.
"Oh, I thought I recognized you! You were dancing on stage right?"
A puzzled look came over Annie Lennox's face. "How could you recognize me? I would have thought I looked completely different once I was on stage?"
"Oh yeah, of course, definitely looked different" I backtracked, not really knowing where to go next. "I just meant, umm, I don't know. Maybe you are a familiar looking girl."
"Right." She made a face like I smelled like faeces, and I realised she probably thought I was hitting on her. "We got to go. Come on Alice" she said to her friend.
I watch them walk to the exit doors, and overheard the brunette say to Blondie "I just wish we could have seen the nude dancer live! Not as much fun on the monitor backstage!"
What?
***
I didn't quite know what to make of the conversation that I'd had with the daring dancer the night before. I had to collect some thoughts.
Number one: there is a naked dancer on stage. Number two: They are collected from the audience by Sam near the end of the set. Number three: there is some confusion as to who is naked when, and who is watching who, and how is something what? I had little to go on if I managed to intercept some more of the 'entertainment'.
And I was disappointed not to meet night four in person. This was a smoking hot athlete of a girl who busted some seriously pro moves. I was mesmerized by how natural she was in her skin, playing up to the crowd, slapping her hips, squeezing her tight breasts in to her chest with her forearms, launching can-can double kicks so her buttocks clenched on landing and displayed her finely tuned form. She even finished on a backflip.
How was Sam doing this? What were they being offered? But even if there is something on the table for them, how did all these girls display such a natural persona performing in the buff for presumably the first time? They didn't seem like strippers, because they weren't performing aggressive faux-sexual come-ons. They were simply dancing to a band they loved, nude. And it was compelling, and sexy, and disarming. They brought something to the show that no one had seen before, and the effect was more than sexuality. It was primal.
I didn't get to the tech room after the shows for the next three shows as I was dealing with local incompetency in the pack down. But the shows themselves alleviated any anxiety I may have had about how Sam was getting away with this. There was the girl who ran back and forth manically, joyfully, completing little jumps and pirouettes as she went like she was Lady Chatterley in the rain. There was the girl who seemed to be inspired by the digital monkeys from the backdrop and did a hilarious, but cute, monkey dance with her shoulders hunched, stomping from foot to foot. And a girl who's back faced the audience for the whole song as she demonstrated what a tight little ass she had, subtly flicking it this way and that, and getting a roar of approval for each deft movement.
It was the eighth night that I finally met again with a dancer. She was alone as she went through the VIP doors, and danced casually on the spot, her arms swinging nearly in time, and shifting her weight to each leg so her hips protruded beyond her center of gravity. Looking down at the ground she seemed lost in thought, the first sign of regret I had seen from any of the guest dancers. I liked her instantly. The small breasts she didn't flaunt extravagantly like some of the more accomplished dancers, and her triangle of pubic hair was quaint, and what could be considered modest after seeing eight different nude, and mostly waxed, women dance in the show.
As she came by herself down the hall toward the tech room, I waved her over.
"Hi, you must have been our dancer tonight? I'm the sound guy." And gave my name.
"Oh Hi. Yeah, I guess so. I'm Joni. Wasn't really dancing was it?"
"I liked it, you seemed really lost in it."
"Really?" Puzzled look again. Hmm. "I'm surprised you could tell."
"And I guess you saw the rest of the show backstage? What did you think?"
"Yeah, I did. Pretty strange where that nude girl came from. Was she from the audience too?"
"Yeah, she was. Pretty weird huh? Did you, umm, like the dancing she did?" I fished. Which nude girl had Joni been watching on the backstage monitors?
"It was ok I guess. She didn't seem like a pro, seeing as she faced the other way the whole time. I guess I would have done the same if I was nude!"
I was so lost in my own swirling thoughts that I didn't know what I said to her next, but I must have asked her back for tomorrow's show.
"What time do I meet you here?"
