A Girl Called Len
Chapter 4: A veiled Dance

Copyright© 2010 by Texrep

I phoned Len to tell her that I would be in London next weekend. I had called a few times, but usually got the answering machine. I did leave messages but there was no way that Len could phone me back, certainly not at home, and it would be difficult in the office. I made the call early, reasoning that as she worked from about two o' clock until nine there was a good chance that she would be in at nine-thirty in the morning. She was. She sounded as if she had just woken up, but came to life quickly as she recognised my voice. I simply said that I would be in London over the weekend and could we meet.

"Of course we can, Danny. I will call off work on Saturday, come round and we will go out and eat, and do the touristy bit. What time will you get here?" I had reckoned to get the evening train on Friday from Exeter St. David's and that got into London about eight-thirty.

"I will be into Paddington about eight-thirty. I've booked myself into the same hotel for two nights." I heard disappointment in Len's voice as she said.

"Danny, you know you could stay here." I turned that suggestion down in the best possibly way.

"Len, I doubt that I could control myself, and I am married." Len didn't pursue that, instead she told me to come round as soon as I had checked in and she would get us something to eat.

Jennifer accepted that I had to go to London on a follow up course for two days.

I had a present for Len. It was an extension cable with a six socket block attached to it. I quickly replaced the Christmas tree of double sockets. She was delighted.

"You thought of me, Danny. That's very caring of you." That got me another kiss. Len admitted that she was no cook, so our meal was a take-away Chinese. She told me that she had fully choreographed her new act, and was well into rehearsals. "We can go round to the rehearsal room tomorrow and I can show you the dance. Danny, you had a brilliant idea, and I think it's going to be spectacular. But I think I will only be able to do it on the Continent." That puzzled me.

"Why?" Len looked a little embarrassed.

"It will be a bit more revealing than is allowed here."

"Oh!" I hadn't thought of that. Len went on to explain.

"Because I have more freedom in the dance, as I get to the end the movements tend to stretch my legs apart a little, well quite a lot actually, so I shall have to shave for a start, and wear the small cache-sexe, except in those countries that do not require them." My puzzlement was even greater now.

"So in some countries you could be completely naked?" She nodded.

"It depends on the venue. In some countries you don't have a problem, but in others if it's a public theatre you cannot show. But if it's a private theatre club you can." Len looked worried. "Will that upset you, Danny?" It would, but I couldn't tell Len that. Then it struck me that she was asking that as if I, somehow, had proprietorial rights over that part of her.

"No, Len. You have said it before, it's just an entertainment. If a man was looking at you and your intentions were that he would get closer and to touch, that would be different. You are a dancer, and the choreography happens to require you become naked. It's part of the dance." Then I thought of something else she had said. "Why shave?" Len laughed.

"Oh Danny, you are so innocent at times. I will have to shave in order to glue a Cache on. If I didn't they would hear the screams for miles around as I tried to take it off." I felt foolish for asking.

It was now time to tell Len my news. To say she was shocked and angry would be an understatement. She was incandescent.

"That bloody bitch! How could she do that to someone as good as you Danny? God when I think about it I could kill her." She simmered for a moment. "And you were so honourable when I asked if you would stay with me. Hell! There is no bloody justice in this world." She quietened for a moment, and then looked up at me. "Danny..." I knew what she was going to say.

"No Len. I am still married, and don't forget, there is an outside chance that the baby could be mine."

"How outside a chance is there, Danny?" I grinned

"According to Doctor Jones, who tested me, it is about one in a million." She smiled, then her smile turned to a grin, then that turned to a chuckle, and finally a full blown laugh, I joined in. She was still laughing as she got up to make another drink.

She turned as she went into the kitchen.

"Do you want another coffee or would you prefer Tea?"

"I am more a tea-drinker." She was a bit upset.

"Why didn't you tell me you preferred tea in the first place you idiot. It's no problem to make a tea."

When she sat down Len started questioning me. "What are you going to do if the baby isn't yours? And that seems to me from what you have said to be almost a certainty." I had thought long about this scenario.

"I will divorce her." She nodded.

"Yes I suppose you should. Will that upset you?" I had my answer ready.

"That's one of those questions with a yes and no answer. I loved Jennifer, but I realise now that I wasn't in love with her. She was a good companion, kept the house clean and neat, but looking back I think it was more about her being a good housekeeper and cook with fringe benefits." My mind walked down memory lane for a while. "I stayed on in the family home after Mum and Dad was killed, but after a while I realised that the place was not helping me get over their deaths, so I sold it and bought the cottage in Newton. I met Jennifer and we got on quite well and it seemed inevitable that we would get married." Len went on questioning me.

"How did it happen? I mean this sterility thing." After Doc Jones had given me the bad news I had thought about it and I could place it exactly.

"Do you remember when Johnny Fisher got Chicken Pox?" Len smiled at the memory.

"Yes. We were all sent round to get it from him. I did. And we got Measles from Barry Fox."

"Don't I know it, Len. You had a rash that could light up the house." She grimaced at being reminded. "And I got it as well. But it was the Pox that did it." Len looked astounded.

"The Chicken Pox did that?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yes, Chicken Pox. It appears that it interferes with the growth of the testicles. Only happens once in a blue moon, but it happened to me." She had a very evil grin on her face.

"Does that mean they are not normal size?" I feigned an indignation I didn't really feel.

"I have no idea. It hasn't been my habit to go round checking other blokes dangly bits. Would you know what the normal size is?" Len blushed.

"No idea at all Danny. I told you I haven't had a relationship with anyone. But you said my tits were nice, and according to you, you had never seen any before." Len was smiling now, triumphantly. I had to concede that one.

"Yes OK. But your tits were nice, they happen to be attached to a nice person." Len said nothing, just blushed prettily and quietly said.

"Thank you Danny." Her face was happy as she went on. "You compliment me so often, Danny. I really like that. It's strange isn't it, how we always got on so well. It must be because you are such a good bloke. Whatever happens in the future, I want to remain friends with you always."

The next day, we spent with Len showing me around London. Now it may appear silly, having lived just a few miles away until I was fifteen, but I had never visited London as a tourist. We did the lot, the Palace, Trafalgar Square, and Piccadilly, almost everything in the West End. We did stray a little more eastwards in the afternoon, and when we were close to Ludgate Circus found a little alleyway, with a strange name, 'The Kinges Wardrobe'. Fascinated I bought a tourist guide and read that it was the site of a small palace owned by Edward the Third, where he kept some of his huge collection of clothes and regalia. Later Kings also used it for the same purpose, but it fell out of use during the Tudor dynasty. We stopped frequently for refreshments, and around seven were back in Soho. Len left me in the Olympus coffee bar and went off to get her little bag on wheels which she had left at the club. When she returned she told me she was going to rehearse her new routine. I offered to wait in the Olympus but Len was having none of that. She told me forcefully.

"Danny it was your suggestion, and I need someone to play to, someone who will tell me what works and what doesn't. I can trust you to do that, Can't I?" I sort of nodded.

"Yes, I suppose."

"Good." She said. "Let's go."

The rehearsal room was at the top of an old building near Covent Garden. I noticed that on all the floors there were Dance schools, for Ballet, Modern, Ballroom and Latin. Len told me that she had to hire the rehearsal room, and could only get it occasionally. But it had one necessary piece of equipment, a huge fan. On summer days the heat on the top floor could get oppressive, and as it was quite a large room, someone had adapted an industrial fan to provide cool air. Len was putting it to another use. We entered the room and Len flipped the bolt over on the door. She explained that lots of acts did rehearsals there and they had to keep their new routines secret, else some other troupe may steal the ideas.

We dragged the Fan across until it was some four yards from the centre of the room. It was quite heavy and I wondered how Len had managed to move it by herself. She brought out a cassette, and slipped it into the big player. Immediately the strains of 'The Glass Mountain' filled the room.

"What do you think for the music, Danny?" I listened for a while then said.

"Very good choice, it's romantic, dramatic and beautiful. It's just right." Len was happy that I approved.

"Right, I will rewind the tape and go and get prepared. When I take up my opening position would you give me three seconds then press play."

At one corner of the room there was a curtain. Len disappeared behind that, and ten minutes later came out. She was wearing soft dance slippers with the padded toes, and wrapped around her was the Pale Teal coloured chiffon. It was so soft that it didn't hide her figure, but there must have been quite a few turns as no detail of her body could be seen. It covered her from her shoulders down to mid-thigh. At first I wondered why it didn't reach down to her calves until common sense kicked in, of course she couldn't dance as freely if it came that low.

"How many yards of that stuff do you have?" I asked.

"I bought fifteen," she answered. "But in practice I found that twelve yards would do. I can get twenty turns with that, also the fan would not keep the fifteen in the air." She switched the fan on. I was standing in front of it as it started to wind up. The blades must have been so heavy it took about five minutes to get to speed. Then there was a veritable gale blowing out. Len took up her position. Her head bowed, the right foot stepped back about six inches and her arms inclined back from her shoulders at about twenty five degrees. I don't know what it is about dancers, but their hands always seem to be gentle extensions of the flow of their arms. She looked so graceful that I almost forgot to start the music. As soon as the music played she was transformed. Her movements echoed the sentiment of the music. I tried not to get lost in the performance, but instead watched, detached as much as possible, to see what she couldn't see. I noticed her quick movement when she released the first turn of the chiffon, Then I noticed how her choreographed turns would release more chiffon to flow away with the wind, but also how she turned back into the chiffon, wrapping a turn round her body once more. Of course there were more turns that allowed the chiffon to fly away rather than those that wrapped. I knew the music and also knew that it would play for about seven minutes, but Len had somehow managed to record the second half twice, it seemed seamless as I listened and I didn't realise at first that I was hearing the crescendo finale once again.

Len was at that point down to about three layers of chiffon, through the fabric her breasts were plainly out lined, and just hidden but suggested was the junction of her thighs. The music moved towards its dramatic finish, and Len suddenly pirouetted three times letting the chiffon drift away, and for five or six seconds she danced completely naked then moved elegantly into her closing pose exactly as the music died. That pose was a half curtsey, with her head bowed and her arms in what she once called the three o' clock position. The half curtsey meant that her legs were slightly apart, and to me was a little too revealing. I started clapping. I walked over and switched the fan off. Len was looking at me apprehensively.

"Well?" I thought the whole thing was stunning, a far cry from her strip routine at the club. I was forming my thoughts, so hadn't answered when she stated.

 
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