The Art School Dance (59 page)

'If the
telephone rings just ignore it, the answering machine will deal
with all calls.'

'Fine,' said
Virginia.

'Well, I’ll
see you in a couple of hours,' the man smiled, his moist hands
moving furiously against each other.

The telephone
rang quite a few times and not once did the answering machine
bother responding. One man rang to ask for Gloria’s number, a club
owner called wanting to know where his exotic dancer was and a very
cultivated sounding lady was eager to describe the services she
could offer. In between these interruptions Virginia sat Josh on a
red velvet couch, some dried flowers by his side, and took
photographs from all angles. She began with full length shots and
then, as her confidence grew, she moved closer, dwelling on the
face and the eyes which stared back unblinkingly. From time to time
Josh would talk, of life and its problems, but afterwards Virginia
could not recall a word of what was said.

It grew hot
beneath the studio lights and Josh suggested that he might take off
his shirt. While Virginia reloaded the camera, pretending not to
watch but sneaking sly glances, he took off his shirt and the tee
shirt beneath; she noted the way the muscles in his arms flexed.
She then moved him over to a full length mirror to add variety,
then to a large cane chair, and finally to the floor. She was
getting warm herself, beginning to sweat, but it never occurred to
her to take off her jacket.

'I think
that’s it,' she said at last, with thirty minutes of the two hours
remaining.

She packed the
camera away, Josh pulled on his tee shirt and brushed back his
hair, then they went to the door. It was locked.

'What must
that dirty sod have been thinking we’d get up to?' Josh asked with
a laugh.

'He probably
locked the door so we wouldn’t run away with his gear.'

'Oh yes?' Josh
laughed again. 'I think he thinks we were going to get up to
something risqué and he didn’t want anyone barging in on us.'

'Surely not,'
said Virginia, kicking at the door.

'Surely so. I
never thought you would be that innocent, Virginia.'

They sat on
the floor, to have a cigarette while they waited, and entertained
themselves by looking through an address book which lay by the
telephone. They laughed at the photographs which went with each
name, compared the accompanying statistics.

'Here’s
a nice one,' said Josh, reading aloud. '
Roger. Thirty four. Six foot one and
thirteen stones. Very athletic.
Now I wonder what that might mean?'

'And
here, listen to this.
Will pose alone or in a group
.'

'We’ve
stumbled on a regular knocking shop here,' Josh believed.

The book was
only closed when a key turned in the lock and the door opened.
Palms still sweating, the man entered, first announcing his
presence with a series of tactful coughs.

'Everything go
alright?' he asked.

'Perfect,'
Virginia answered.

The man
smiled, as though he understood only too well.

'He thinks
what you thought he was thinking,'Virginia said to Josh, as they
went downstairs, and he gave her a strange look, one which she was
afraid to interpret. Rather than question it she suggested they
have a drink.

In the nearest
public house they sat in a quiet corner.

'Well, thanks
for coming,' Virginia said. 'I think I got some nice shots out of
that.'

'Will you tell
me one thing?' said Josh.

'Yes?'

'While we were
in there, locked in that sweaty room, didn’t you want to do
anything? Didn’t you want me to kiss you, at least?'

Virginia
stuttered and muttered, unaccustomed to such embarrassment, thought
about the wife Josh had mentioned and the attraction she felt,
found herself caught between truthfulness, caution and good
manners.

She had always
been the one to do any seducing, the one to take the lead, and now
found herself uncomfortable with the reversal of the roles.

'You did,
didn’t you?' Josh said, and kissed her on the lips, leaning his
body nicely into hers.

The simple
action eased the tension. Virginia made her confession -of course
she had wanted to kiss him- and it was unlike any that she had made
before, on those dark Thursday nights in the privacy of the
Catholic church of her youth.

'You must
possess remarkable self control,' Josh said, putting his hand on
her thigh, and what little she had began to crumble.

They stayed
this way, in close confidence in their corner seat, talking and
kissing until Josh announced that he had to leave. Virginia was
reluctant to break the contact, but had little alternative.

'Come on, I
can give you a lift. Where am I taking you?'

He told her,
and once in the car he gave her directions, out of the city and
along unfamiliar streets.

It was when
she was lost in the suburbs that he told her to stop the car. The
handbrake went on and he came across to her immediately, the lights
were doused, his body felt soft like a feather pillow and she was
encourage to touch him, her rumoured self control now in ruins.

'This isn’t
good enough,' he said, after what seemed to be the briefest of
embraces.

'I’m sorry,'
Virginia apologised, thinking that she had already been found
inadequate in some way.

Josh’s hand
went to her cheek to tell her that she was not to blame. 'It’s not
you, it’s just that we need more time and more room,' he said,
lifting his legs over the gear lever and straightening his
trousers. 'We need to be somewhere else if we’re going to do this
properly.'

'Then I’ll see
you again?'

'You must
do.'

'But how?
Where?'

'Saturday,'
Josh said. 'Denise is away for a rugger match.'

'A what?' said
Virginia, startled. 'You're wife plays rugby?'

Josh laughed
at her alarm. 'She acts as physio,' he explained. 'So meet me in
that pub we’ve just passed, about one.'

He kissed her
and left, going along with a happy swagger towards the public house
he had mentioned. Back at the flat, with Goomer’s equipment in the
communal bathroom, Virginia worked until early morning, processing
the film and printing the photographs. Someone banged on the door
but she refused top let them in, told them she was busy, suggested
they use the kitchen sink if they were desperate.

*

'Tell me what
you want me to do, Virginia. Just tell me. I’ll do whatever you
ask.'

Virginia told
Josh to do whatever came naturally, but the things he did were far
from natural and made her eyes water. She shut her lids tight and
lay back while her middle-class, bored-with-marriage lover
performed his supernatural acts.

The bed was
low and large and expensive, not of a type to which she was
accustomed, so she did not fall asleep when Josh had finished with
her -it was, after all, the first time in months that anyone had
even bothered to start on her- but took in the luxury of her
surroundings. Above her and behind her was a mirrored alcove,
flanked by fitted wardrobes; other wardrobes were flush with the
surface of the opposite walls and she had seen how crammed these
were with clothes when Josh had undressed, folding each of the
items with an almost cool detachment and hanging them up in
preselected spaces. For her part, she had simply dropped her own
clothes onto the carpet, excited by the thick pile between her toes
when she took off her shoes and stockings.

'Do you have
something against people seeing your body?' Josh asked.

'No. Why?'

'It’s just
that you shot beneath the covers so quickly, like you were
shy.'

Of course she
was not shy, she had been naked before men many times. It was just
that this time everything seemed so different, so out of her
control.

'It’s the
bed,' she said, bucking her body to make it bounce. 'I’ve never
slept in one like this before.'

'One with a
mattress and springs, you mean?' Josh said with a laugh.

'Not one with
so many, I’m sure. It’s so big. Why, you could almost fit all the
people I know into this.'

To Josh this
sounded like something else to try, a new dimension to his Saturday
afternoons. He rubbed his body closer to Virginia, said, 'Do you
think any of your friends would be interested, then?'

Virginia
pushed him gently off, too tired to respond again as yet. Rejected,
Josh rolled away, slipped off the bed to walk around to the
wardrobe at her side. He was so brazenly naked, as if he was posing
again for her camera; he was vain, a trait she didn’t like in a
man, but with Josh she forgave it.

'You really
are a bit of a peasant, Virginia,' he said, taking a white bathrobe
from the back of the door and throwing it over his shoulder. 'It’s
only an ordinary double bed, you know.'

It seemed that
he had already forgotten about the more exciting possibilities it
might offer. Virginia yawned and turned over, burying her face in
the pillows.

'Don’t go to
sleep,' Josh told her. 'Get up and tidy up while I have a
shower.'

To make sure
she did as she was told he pulled the quilt from her, leaving her
exposed like some forlorn foetal things. When his bare buttocks had
bobbed around the door Virginia uncurled herself, sat on the edge
of the bed and dressed. Though her clothes were dry they felt
uncomfortable against her damp skin. With her stockings in the
pocket of her skirt and her shoes in her hands she went downstairs
to the kitchen, searched through the pine-fronted cabinets and
found the coffee. She filled and switched on the kettle -everything
was electricity, clean simplicity- then walked to the living room
while it boiled. All was clean simplicity here, too. A shallow but
spacious settee in plain hessian fabric, with matching armchairs
set at right angles; the walls were plain pastel colours and the
carpet only slightly darker. It had to be like living in some
non-committal land, she thought, with everything neuter and
neutral.

Above the
electric fire she found a framed photograph of Josh, some years
younger, wearing his hair in what would now be an unfashionably
longer style.

'The year
before I got married,' he said, stepping into the room, his hair
glistening from the shower.

'When was
that?'

He smiled but
gave no direct answer. 'I was young, then. Nineteen.'

Eight or nine
years ago? Ten, perhaps? The way vain people were so often vague
about dates was confusing to Virginia, even though her own
unreliable memory made similar matters necessarily blurred.

The kettle
could be heard clicking off in the kitchen and Josh went to make
the coffee.

'Remind me to
wash both cups,' he said when he returned, and grinned. 'We don’t
want to leave any clues, do we?'

They sat
opposite each other, in the armchairs.

Victoria
nodded to the photograph above the fire, said, 'I don’t see any of
your wife.' She had read somewhere that it was civilised to talk of
the partner with the one who had just been unfaithful; it was a
mature acceptance of circumstances. 'Why is that?' she asked.

'She’s private
sort, prefers to stay under cover, sort of.'

'Why? What
does she do?'

'She’s just
not very photogenic.'

Virginia could
not imagine Josh being married to an un-photogenic woman, but this
was all he would say about his wife, though he did hint, as often
as was possible, that he was not happy with her.

Did she nag
him? Cause him mental anguish? Neglect his needs? No, it seemed
not. He was just... not happy.

Some more
specific reason might have served to ease Virginia’s conscience,
convinced her that she was fulfilling some therapeutic function,
doing something more noble than merely relieving her own
frustrations. Josh would offer no such concrete excuse, though, so
she just had to accept his word; he was unhappily married and she
was providing a distraction.

'Isn’t it
enough that we both wanted to do what we did?' he asked.

'I suppose
so,' she said.

Josh got up
from his seat and knelt on the carpet at Virginia’s feet, his arms
resting across her knees.

She felt them
immediately begin to tremble.

'If it feels
good, do it. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?'

Yes, Virginia
could not deny the maxim, it felt good and so they did it again,
they made love on the carpet as Josh had wanted to do in the first
place, helping him forget how unhappy he was.

Chapter Nine

'This bloke
sounds like some kind of male nymphomaniac to me,' said Peter.
'What would you call him? A satyr?'

'Yes,
insatiable,' Virginia agreed. 'Great, isn’t it?'

'He’ll sap
your strength.'

'He can have
my soul if he wants it. I’m not kidding, Peter, he’s absolutely
bloody gorgeous. A perfect body. A face like you’ve never dreamed
of.'

'And what
about this wife of his?'

'He’s unhappy
with her,' said Virginia, offering her only excuse.

'Like she’ll
be unhappy with you, when she finds out what’s going on.'

Virginia
shrugged; she knew that Peter disapproved, but imagined that it was
out of envy that anyone could be so happy.

Who could not
envy her? She had a beautiful man to love, in comfortable
surroundings, a man who had money enough that she no longer needed
to worry unduly about her own finances; Josh was well able to cover
the expenses of any evenings out. These were not all that frequent,
though. His wife’s career, whatever it was, kept her quite
occupied, the house was free and Virginia was content to spend
their time together there. The occasions when they went out were
those times when his wife was at home; then they would go for a
meal or to the cinema, or just for a drink, secure in the knowledge
that they would not be caught for the only place Josh’s
unadventurous wife went was the social club at her place of
work.