This story includes some of the themes found in a previous story of mine, which I posted here recently. I'm exploring and exorcising this narrative and the associated imagery from my mind. There are so many narratives and so much imagery, and there is so little time - they are constantly there beneath the surface, waiting to find expression. They are difficult to let go of.
Dear reader, here are some gentle suggestions: artist Robert Rauschenberg insisted that his audience bring their own frame of reference to the objects he made. I am hoping you will do likewise with this story. This is another story featuring older women and young men. It is truly provocative in its design and the characters are constructed to amuse, to infuriate, and to excite, etc.
Please be aware that this story will be an uncomfortable one for some of you - I like dredging up and engaging with the so called darker psychological aspects of my stories. In my opinion those elements give a story a real edge. If you don't wish to be uncomfortable, then please just skip this story.
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PART ONE: THE DANCE OF LIFE
The Dance of Life by Edvard Munch, 1899 to 1900, oil on canvas, 124 X 190.5cms.
Before a dreamy violet sea and sky; before a pale sun, its light like a solid form upon the surface of the waters; and before a narrow beach, stand three large female characters. The large female character, dressed in white, on the far left, in the foreground is young and virginal - idealistic rather than experienced, seeking a pure love, and waiting hopefully. The large female character, dressed in black, on the far right, in the foreground is older, she only sees a hardened reality as a result of her extensive experience - she no longer harbours any illusions or idealism and hence appears to be sad. The large female character, dressed in red, in the centre, in the foreground, dances with her man. Her hair is wild and richly coloured like her dress. Her face is bold and flushed and the bottom of her dress appears to entrap her man, dare I say deliciously - she is at her sexual peak, she seems to revel in her time. She is glorious and lustful.
Behind the three main foreground characters are a number of other dancers, male and female partnered too each other, except a woman - in white -standing alone and apart from the action, waiting for a man. The dancers seem to be moving from foreground into middle ground and then into background, only to emerge into the foreground again. They seem to be moving in a vast circle, representing the slow inexorable movement of time, the endless flowing passage of the temporal.
On and on it goes: the dance of life - that endless mystery which takes place between women and men.
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The large room glowed golden from the soft lighting - long fine strands of lights stood out in relief against the gleaming walls and shone across the polished floors, drowning the dancers in its unearthly blush. The sound of distant laughter and the subdued drone of private conversations, the cool sophisticated jazz and the clear ring of glasses colliding in toasts, formed the soundtrack to the theatre taking place on the dance floor.
David lifted his glass of champagne to his lips and sipped it. He lowered his glass and tried to turn his attention back to the elegant wide-eyed young woman who was trying to seduce him. He managed to bring her back into focus for a moment and realised she was talking about her college prospects and her charitable work. He nodded and said yes softly, as if he were attentive and present, but his mind and his eyes had already wandered on and the young woman had disappeared again. Soon enough David apologised to the young woman and much to her annoyance left her standing there at the edge of the dance floor all alone.
He observed the room once again, after having left the elegant young woman behind him. The long open bar at the left of the room was populated by a variety of well dressed creatures, all lifting and draining their flashing glasses, all clustered together in their tight social knots. The band were in the far right hand corner - a five piece of young intense players, wringing their silky music from shining horns, spreading their sound across the space, out through the open doors behind the small intimate dining tables, across the balcony, and into the warm night beyond.
David had walked out there to get away from the scene out on the dance floor. He stepped past the last of the diners, still sitting at their tables. He nodded at a few acquaintances without stopping and walked out onto the wide long balcony, with his drink in hand and stepped up to the edge of the railing. He peered out at the black sea and the dark shoreline, the soft warm breeze ruffling his hair. A few people had tried to engage David in conversation, but he really wasn't in the mood to talk. He finally managed to exchange a few words with an attractive older woman who wanted to sleep with him - an old family friend and her husband.
Finally, David turned his back on the hordes of well-ordered well-attired people out on the balcony and walked back inside the room, through the fluttering curtains. He looked out at the dance-floor before him, which was where he had encountered the elegant young woman. David had tried to listen to her, but his attention was drawn irresistibly to the two figures out on the dance-floor, who were drawing so much attention to themselves from so many people. He had left the young woman there at the edge of the floor and circled the dancers.
Those two moving figures: the woman, his mother Susan was dancing with David's closest friend Michael - they were in each other's arms and, as usual with Susan, it was causing a stir among the guests there - she was 44 and he just 24. David could see that his friend was smiling, flattered by the attention and compliment Susan was paying him by dancing with him in the way she was. But then she had been flirting with her son's friend all night, singling Michael out right from the start of the party, inviting him to sit next to her at dinner, engaging him in conversation and ignoring everybody else and then finally luring him out onto the dance floor.
"She's a stirrer, isn't she," someone said from behind David's right shoulder.
David turned his head and watched as his aunty Sarah moved into place on David's right. She was an older woman, much older than Susan and much more bitter and disappointed as well. She was dressed in black - a silent witness, looking at the dancers.
"Yes she is," David said and then emptied his glass.
"You shouldn't let Susan bait you like this David; you know what she's like."
"Yes, yes I know, but she continues to do it anyway" David said, solemnly.
"It is your party, remember that David," his aunty Sarah reminded him as David nodded and then walked off, instantly regretting that he had brushed his aunty off so rudely.
David sat down at a table and raised his empty glass at a passing waiter and got a refill.
Susan looked stunning out on the dance floor in her tight glittering red dress and her glittering red heels. Her chestnut coloured hair was down, falling about her shoulders, shining brilliantly and her beautiful dark eyes sparkled as she gazed up at Michael and regarded him, her face lit up as she smiled invitingly at the young man, seemingly oblivious to everyone and everything else around her. David ran his eyes over his mother's beautiful little body as she turned slowly on the floor, and then he grew envious and then angry at his friend. David did not like the way Michael was holding his mother, he did not like the way he was pressed up against Susan, nor did he like the way Michael was looking down at her.
His mother was in one of her moods, David believed. He had recently been caught sleeping with a woman and word had gotten back to Susan and now she was giving him the cold shoulder treatment, barely speaking to him. She had chosen Michael deliberately and then completely ignored David all through dinner and then afterwards
