Learning The Dance Ch 01

"Valentines day, the perfect day for a wedding," Christy thought, as she stood in the dressing room of the church and gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her honey-blonde hair was tied to the top of her head in tight braids and cascaded down her neck and onto her shoulders in soft ringlet curls. Doe-like brown eyes with long lashes gazed back at her, from the heart-shaped face in the mirror.

Oblivious to the bustle of activity from bridesmaids and attendants around her, Christy lifted her gloved hand gently fingered the twin drops of white pearl that dangled from her ears and circled her long neck. The earrings were borrowed from her maiden aunt, the necklace a treasured gift from her aging mother. Her mother had worn the necklace and earrings at her own wedding 40 years earlier, and, according to rumor, they were the only things she was left wearing on her wedding night.

Nervously, Christy smoothed the front of her gown. The hand sewn gown fitted her long lines and soft curves perfectly from the soft swell of her breast to the gentle turn of her tiny ankle; her bosom and tummy kept firmly in place by the tight stays of the corset she wore underneath. Christy dreamed of this day, and this dress, long ago, when she was a girl of 15, and now at 28, she wasn't sure if the image in the mirror was truly real.

As she gazed at herself, Christy thought back on the years leading up to this moment.

She had, as a teenager, thought about boys—and wondered about what it would be like to be a 'regular' girl; attending school, going to dances, movies, parties; but, Christy was not a 'regular' girl. A prodigy, home-schooled by her mother, Christy entered college at 16, graduating with her pre-med degree in honors in just over three years. Accepted into medical school at 19, she received her doctorate at 22. Christy continued her education and specialized as a reconstructive and plastic surgeon; so, while she was not unfamiliar with human anatomy, functions of the reproductive organs of both sexes, and the basic techniques of sex; she had no practical experience on the subject.

She'd never even really masturbated—she'd tried a few times, stimulating herself in all the appropriate places, but she couldn't get past her inhibitions, she was mechanical, and detached. Without any real frame of reference, she was just going through the motions, and the act left her feeling unfulfilled.

Deep inside, Christy wondered if she was truly ready for what lie ahead of her tonight. As a gangly and bespectacled teen, kids her own age delighted in tormenting and torturing her for her intelligence. Girls shunned her, boys ridiculed and mocked her, and in defense, Christy retreated into her world surrounded by books and her loving parents.

Christy had tried to avoid emotional entanglements and physical relationships with classmates, teachers, and members of the staff. Partially, she surmised, because she knew the dangers and risks involved with sexual encounters; but mostly, because she was afraid of getting hurt. She knew that the popular rumor was that she was a lesbian, and although she wasn't, the rumor made it easier all around for her to avoid relationships with men.

"I could have been, though," she thought with a distracted smile.

It had been Valentines Day, then too, and Gloria, a beautiful African-American resident from her rotation had invited her out for drinks after their shift ended. They had often enjoyed each other's company at work, but neither one had a date this Valentines evening, so they jokingly agreed to be each other's date.

"Who needs men, anyway?" Gloria quipped, as they walked arm in arm over to the Swinging Door Saloon. "Ain't nothing a man can do with his one penis that I can't do with my 11 mini-penises!" she said as she wiggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue. Christy laughed at her friend's obvious joke.

Several times during the evening, one or the other was approached for a dance, or offered a drink. Christy simply refused, but each time Gloria was asked, she told the interloper, "I'm with her," and pointed a Christy. Eventually, the men stopped asking, and together they danced, and drank, and thoroughly enjoyed the night. Christy felt liberated, unusually relaxed, and strangely tingly—the more she drank, the more she tingled.

She'd felt this way only once before. When she was 17, the son of man her father worked with had taken her on a date to the drive-in movie theatre in his big red Chevrolet. While at the movie, he'd reached over and put his arm around her right shoulder, rubbing it gently. When she'd looked over at him, he'd smiled at her—his green eyes sparkling in the reflected light from the movie. "You're shivering, "he'd said, easing gently closer to her. Christy felt his warm body, and his strong arms holding her close as they sat there, not watching the movie. A tingle had spread through her body then, and his touch warmed her, as the whiskey did now.

Several times on the dance floor, she'd marveled at how free Gloria was; from the flash of her bright white smile to the alluring shake of her rounded bottom—her movements relaxed and uninhibited. When Gloria's body pressed against her on the dance floor, Christy's heart raced, her face flushed. She was overwhelmed with the newness of it all—the feeling of a warm, soft, body bouncing and rubbing against hers. She was excited by the energy and excitement of dancing, and drinking, and slowly, she became more and more aroused each time Christy felt the brush of her friend's arm against her nipple, or felt Gloria's hand on her hip; but it was nothing more than good-natured fun had between two girl friends.

Christy was disappointed when the bartender announced last call, but Gloria invited Christy back to her apartment. "No need for the fun to end now," she'd said with an impish smile, and since neither was scheduled to work for the next two days, Christy agreed. As the girls stepped out into the chill February air, Christy realized her eyes stung from the smoky bar, and ears were ringing from the loud country music that had boomed all night from the jukebox. Walking down the sidewalk, arm in arm, Christy stumbled and grabbed a parking meter. Gloria slipped a strong arm around Christy's slim waist to steady her friend.

Leaning into Gloria, Christy felt the warmness of her neck seep into her cheek and forehead as she rested her head on Gloria's shoulder. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the aroma of Gloria's light perfume mixed with the salt-tang of perspiration and the bite of tobacco and liquor from the bar. Christy felt a slight tingle at the nape of her neck, and shivered as she felt the flesh on her bosom tighten as Gloria glanced down at her, her left eyebrow arching delicately and a quizzical look on her face. Christy felt warm and safe as Gloria squeezed her just a little tighter, drawing Christy slightly closer to her as they stood on the corner.

Eventually, the two girls piled in to a big yellow taxi, and after Gloria gave the driver directions, they chatted a bit about life. Christy remembered how at one point in the conversation Christy blurted, "I've never been with a man, you know, "

Once upstairs, Gloria put on some soft music, filled with drums, and turned the lights down low, and left Christy in the living room as she went to change.

There were rumors around the hospital, about Gloria--but there were rumors about her as well, and Christy knew she wasn't a dyke (as the men of the department charmingly described her) and so she surmised Gloria wasn't one either. She guessed that Gloria was just a strong, free-spirited, individual who, like herself, had neither the time nor the desire to get involved in a relationship.

While her friend changed, Christy looked around. Gloria's apartment was full of interesting tribal objects: masks, tapestries, and brightly colored weavings, as well as strange statues of African tribes women with protruding breasts. Dozens of candles of various sizes and lengths lined the window panes and sat in sconces on the walls and in trays and candelabra around the room. n a shelf, there was an interesting set of busts, carved from a deep mohogony or some other dark wood, that captured her attention. Obviously a pair, one of a woman with drooping breasts, another of a woman with pert breasts.

Christy didn't notice Gloria's return, she was closely examining a statuette of a woman performing fellatio on a jackal headed man with gigantic, erect phallus she gripped with both hands.

"That's one of my favorites," Gloria commented. "It's Egyptian-esque. The woman is paying homage to the god Anubis. In Egyptian mythos, Anubis guided the souls of the dead through the underwold to Osiris' presence, where their hearts would be judged." Gloria bushed lightly against Christy as she slid by her to cross the room and flopp on the couch. As she moved, Gloria continued impishly, "Maybe she's been naughty in life, and is trying to bribe the God in death. What do you think?"