The Wonderous Dating Game

by J. M. Mason

“Stel, do you have anything important to do this weekend?” Jenny asked.

  “Yeh. I’m going to see the Queen of England for a cup of tea. I feel it’s appropriate after helping a young man write a letter to the Queen last weekend.” I grimaced, and then asked, “Did you have to remind me I don’t have a real-life?”

  “Jodie and I were discussing going to the Underground this weekend for Karaoke. Of course, we thought you were paying attention, but you were wandering around your brain again.” Jenny grinned. “Do you ever conduct tours of your head? Your mind seems to be more interesting than anything we have to say.”

  “I think it’ll be so much fun to sing along with the box again,” I said with a smile. “Get it? We used to have Sing Along with Mitch.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Jenny said, shaking her head. “Boy are you out of touch with the present. You are caught in the good old days. Come on, get in the now. Do you want to go out again this weekend to go see what Brad told us about the Underground?”

  “I love to sing, so let’s do it Friday night, I don’t care if it’s a black box or Mitch,” I said. “How about we go to the Steak House for dinner late, and then go to the bar and make a night of it?” We agreed to meet at the Steak House at seven-thirty. “Great, we need to finish work.”

  It was a madhouse when we walked into the foyer of the Steak House, with many people sitting and standing waiting to be seated. They were packed in like sardines in a tin can. We didn’t have a reservation, so we walked downstairs to the lounge to eat. I think the service is better in the lounge and the food arrives sooner. The best part is there is enough light to read the menu and see the face of the persons sitting across from you.

  By the time we had dinner, it was after nine. Karaoke began at nine, making us concerned that we wouldn’t find a place to sit.

  When we walked into the Underground, a young man was singing a song off-key in front of a mic. As luck would have it, the only empty table was right in front of the stage.

  The sound system was cranked up to full blast, making it impossible to talk to each other without shouting. After much nodding and pointing, we sat down at the only empty table. Refraining from covering my ears to decrease the sound, I made a mental note to go to the bathroom for tissue to put into my ear canal to minimize the noise blasting my eardrums to near bursting after we ordered our drinks.

  We had just sat down when a young lady sashayed over to us. She was scantily dressed, with too much cleavage showing, to the point her boobs were fighting their way to the top to escape the corral to bounce in the smoky air of the bar. I found myself being afraid they would fall out and hurt someone.

  She’d plastered her face with enough makeup to cover every woman and some of the men in America. I exaggerate just a tiny bit. I swear. Alright, so I’m exaggerating a lot, however, if I were her, I’d stay away from heat. The makeup would ooze down her face like a mudslide in a California rainstorm as it melts.

  She was gnawing at a large wad of green gum that she kept popping with her mouth open. She wallowed the chunk of gum from cheek to cheek, not unlike a cow chewing its cud and popped it as she took our drink order. It was fascinating to watch the wad going back and forth as her tongue moved it.

  Her jaw had to be tired from the action she was giving the gum. I wondered if her chewing gum was fresh, or if she took it from beneath the table when she dressed for work.

  I know that was catty, but sometimes we need to meow. It helps, at times, to be a bitch, and I won’t apologize for it. I won’t admit to being jealous because I never could pull off her outfit. No pun intended, nor any nasty thought involved in that statement.

  Thankfully we received our drinks after the man, singing off-key, finished his rendition of the song that was not familiar to us. I guess he did his best. He looked so proud when he stepped down from the stage and rejoined a lady who seemed as impressed as he did with his lack of talent. It was sweet to see them interacting so cutely because he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.

  They were sitting at a table behind us, and all I had to do was turn my head slightly to invade their privacy. Because they smiled and held each other’s hands, it made me know they cared deeply for each other and it didn’t matter if he sang off-key. I remembered those looks of adoration when my husband and I first married.

  Shaking my head to clear away the bad memories, I reached out and grabbed my drink, turned my head back to the stage as a woman got up to sing.

  We sat, sipping our drinks, listening to her singing The Rose as we tapped our nails on the table. After checking the songbook, we found a song that was suited for our voices. I like singing Patsy Cline songs.

  I wrote my selection down on a scrap of paper and took our choices to the Disc Jockey. He told me it would be quite a while before our turn came to sing, so we sat back and listened to some outstanding singers. Of course, there’s always the one who has a difficult time reading the words, probably because they had too many drinks waiting for their chance to sing, not to mention those who shouldn’t sing in public, let alone in the shower.

  It didn’t matter that some of the people didn’t have a lot of talent for singing, it was great to see they were having a good time and dared to get up in front of strangers to do something that pleased them.

  In the scope of things, it doesn’t matter what others think of us when we reach the end of the road. What matters is how we journeyed and the chances we took to make things better for the world.

  Brad was right. This place was a better place for us. We didn’t need to contend with testosterone taking over the place, making a night on the town miserable. I didn’t miss the excitement of having a man fall at my feet, at least I had a man fall at my feet, and not all women can brag about that and mean it literally. I know that wasn’t funny, I’ll keep working on it.

  The Underground Karaoke was something Jenny, Jodie, and I promised to do again. Maybe, if we were lucky, we could bring a date.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  It was overwhelmingly busy at the office for the next couple of weeks. Dr. Johnson had several emergency surgeries to perform, and babies came into the world as if there was a new baby boom.

  During the slower times, we at the office caught up on office work, such as the exciting job of filing tests that were done outside the office. It was also a time for us to discuss everything under the sun. Our discussions received more notice than the work that needed to be done.

  “Have you heard about the new dance club that’s opening up this weekend? It’s called the Searchlight Club?” Jodie asked.

  “No,” Jenny said.

  “Tell us more,” I said. “Where is it, and does it have live bands or a DJ, or will we have to hum our songs?”

  “My brother, Harry, said it has a two-dollar cover charge. Don’t ask me what that’s for, because I asked him, and he doesn’t know,” Jodie said. “They’ll only be open on Friday and Saturday nights for dancing. It’s a dinner club during the weeknights, serving what they call authentic Mexican food. I guess they aren’t like the name brand places."

  “Harry said that he thought it would be easier to get in on Friday night because most people go out more on Saturday, and the official opening night will be Saturday."

  “I’m not a fan of a cover charge,” I said. “Because I never know what is being hidden with my money. I think it’s a way for the establishment to gouge the public. However, going out dancing sounds like it could be fun even if I have to pay a cover charge.” I shrugged. “Let’s go. What do we have to lose? Besides two-dollars.”

  “It’s too late for me to lose my virginity, so why not,” Jenny said.

  “Hey! I know,” I said. “It’s Wednesday, why don’t we go to dinner tonight and case the joint? That way, we know the lay of the land before Friday. Then we can go to a movie to break the rut we’re in.”

  “What rut?” Jodie asked.

  “It seems like all we do is go to bars for a good time. It just would be fun to s
ee a movie or something else occasionally,” I said.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  We met at five-thirty at the door of the Searchlight Club and walked into the club to the best odor in the world, unless you dislike Mexican food, authentic or regular. The smell of garlic, onions, and chili powder filled the air, causing us to salivate.

  I finally found a place to have a smothered burrito that I thought was better than what I made when my sons were growing up. The burrito filled a platter, I swear, the plate was the size that would hold a sixteen pound or larger turkey. It came with Spanish rice, refried pinto beans, corn chips, and salsa. If requested, sour cream and guacamole would be served on the side.

  The café part of the club was rather dull. There weren’t any paintings or anything else on the walls, and the colors were muted shade of browns, sand, and other earthy tones.

  Eight booths marched on both sides of the wall in the dining room, with tables sitting between the booths. Each table had a red checked tablecloth with cutlery wrapped in a white paper napkin at each place.

  We were the only people in the café. In the background, we heard a mariachi band playing over the sound system, soft voices speaking Spanish, and then laughter filtered out to us from somewhere deep in the building.

  A woman with black hair popped out from behind a wall. She looked surprised when she saw us standing in the middle of the floor. She hurried toward us smiling.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait. I didn’t hear the buzzer when you came in.”

  “We just arrived. We didn’t see a buzzer, nor did we hear one either. It must be broken,” Jenny said.

  “Will there just be the three of you tonight?” the woman asked.

  We nodded our heads. “I think this is it,” Jodie said. “We would like a booth if we may.”

  “Take your pick of booths, and I think I’ll be able to find you.” She chuckled and left us standing where we were when she noticed us, and then quickly returned with menus and water. “I forgot to introduce myself to you. I’m Angelic, and I’ll be your server tonight. May I bring you a drink from the bar? Or we have sweetened and unsweetened iced tea, and, of course, sodas.

  “Tonight, Strawberry Daiquiris are our special, or you may have a Margarita of whatever flavor you like for the same price.”

  The Strawberry Daiquiris sounded good to me. It’d been a long time since I’d drank one. Jodie and Jenny were lime Margarita women. The drinks went well with the spicy taste of the burritos we ordered. It was good to sit back and enjoy a meal listening to the music and the soft sound of the voices speaking in a foreign tongue as we unwound from the tensions of the day.

  Chapter Forty

  By time we finished our meals, the place was filled with people wanting to try the new establishment. After we paid the check, we did a walk through of the facility. The dance floor was the size of a basketball court. Stainless steel counters lined the walls with the bandstand in the center of the back wall. The short edge of each bar was against the wall so that each side could accommodate six tall stools that stood like soldiers along the long edges of the stands.

  A chained off area on an elevated platform was to the right of the bandstand. There were small, rectangle, stainless steel tables set in rows with six chairs at each table being held hostage behind the chains.

  We were curious about the cordoned off area as there was no one around to answer our questions, so all we could do was speculate. We determined that the tables were for those who reserved a table and were able to come whenever they wanted and be assured of a place to sit. We would have to wait until Friday to find out why the tables were chained off from the dance floor.

  “Look up! Look!” I said. “There are Disco Balls on the ceiling.”

  Seeing the Disco Balls slowly turn in the air was a great joy for me. I had fond memories of the shining spinning balls, rotating in front of the color wheel, splashing a rainbow of colors around the floor. The changing colors kissing the dancers spinning around below them. To me dancing under the colors was great fun, and they were the sexiest things I know.

  “It’s been years since I got to dance where the Disco balls spun around the ceiling,” I said.

  “When was the last time you went dancing?” Jenny asked.

  “Hmm,” I said. “All I remember is that I was wearing tie-dyed clothes. Maybe it was when Jim was in grade school. I don’t remember the exact date. If I knew I had to remember I would’ve tied a string around my finger.”

  “Meow!” Jodie said.

  “I was just curious,” Jenny said with a slight pout on her face. “I haven’t been dancing for a long time, either. The last time I went was a street party in my neighborhood. All the men I know don’t like to dance unless they are drunk, and then they stumble all over the place, thinking they’re Fred Astaire.”

  If someone had overheard us talking about people they had never heard about, they would think we were ancient and not just fans of the old movies on TV.

  Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were great in the golden oldie’s movies, and they whirled around the dance floor, she in her long, sparkling ball gowns that shimmered as she twirled, he in his tuxedo looking like a gentleman of wealth.

  Chapter Forty-One

  To my delight, Friday night came quickly. My favorite time at work was when it was too busy to watch the hands on the clock tick away the seconds that added up to hours. If we were able to feel the fast pace of time on the good days, it would fly like a bit of matter spinning out into orbit, passing the big dipper faster than the speed of light. It’s far better than watching the seconds go by like a sedated snail.

  When we arrived in separate vehicles, we decided to stay close to each other until we found a place to sit. The country music was already blaring, and the parking lot was crowded. The valet parked our cars far away, which I didn’t like so much. What if I wanted to leave in a hurry?

  The crowd was huge, and my chest began to tighten with the beginning of an anxiety attack. Large groups have always caused feelings of claustrophobia since I was a child. I was so overwhelmed that I nearly bolted for my car, then remembered I didn’t know where my car was parked, the valet had my keys, and he was busy parking other cars.

  Before we could pay our cover charge, the music changed to the golden oldies of the seventies.

  “Hey,” Jodie said. “This is a band that sings different kinds of music so they can cater to bigger and diverse crowds.”

  It didn’t matter if they played children’s songs, I just wanted out of the center of the crowd pushing their way to the dance floor. It was difficult to concentrate on the music instead of my anxiety. If the crowd was bigger on Saturday night, I’m thrilled we came on a slow night.

  I closed my eyes, sucked in my share of oxygen, and the man’s share that had the misfortune of standing behind me held it in for a count of ten, and let it out slowly. My respirations and heart rate decreased to a slower pace and reduced the tight feeling that gripped my heart like a vice.

  My heart felt as though it was sliding down into my tummy, when I saw the endless line of gyrating bodies standing in front me, moving like a herd of lemmings making their way to the overhang to jump to their deaths.

  More people came through the door behind me as I paid my two-dollar cover charge, had my hand-stamped, and was directed into the swarm of wiggling bodies in front of me that blocked my easy route to the raised area we saw Wednesday night.

  Let the fun begin. I thought.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  When I handed over my two-dollar cover charge, a well-built young man stamped my hand with a rubber stamp, I clutched his hand in both of mine and pulled him down to my height. I was desperate to have a bodyguard to watch over me, just like the ones my son asked to keep an eye on me while I was playing a new game of life.

  “Please, can you take me to the back of the room?”

  I wanted him to come back with me to protect me, but he shook his head no. He had to yell to make himself
heard above the music playing when he told me to go straight to the middle of the human river moving toward the back wall.

  “If you keep going to the back!” the bouncer yelled. “You’ll find an elevated floor behind a fenced area if you want to watch the dancers. I’d recommend it for you as it’s safer.”

  I nodded my head and mouthed, “Thank you.” I was thankful we had the sense to check out the place Wednesday night because it made it easier for us to get across the room.

  Jenny and Jodie walked in front of me toward the dance floor, it wasn’t long before I was separated from them. The crowd was so tightly packed my chest was flattened against a stranger’s back. My boobs were groped when I was able to remove myself, for a moment, from the back of the person ahead of me. Some of the hands were none too gentle with my girls. I knew my knockers weren’t amused when the nipples remained flat.

  If I were into sadistic sex, I would’ve been thrilled. The girls would’ve cheered their thanks by standing erect and pushed their way to the surface inside my bra.

  Someone played patty cake with my ass, and others grab an inch of skin, pinched firmly to see if they could pinch an inch, or they were pressing a design like on the edge of a pie crust. All I could do was to pray none of the hands caused bruises. I now know how it feels to be the only peach at the Farmer’s Market.

  Suddenly the crowd came to a halt, at least I didn’t run into anyone, I was already plastered to their back. My short height prevented me from seeing what caused the sudden stop. We were like cattle waiting to be branded in a backed-up squeeze shoot. I longed for a cattle prod to get the crowd to move.

  Suddenly something that felt like a flashlight pressed firmly into my ass and moved around. Someone carried a large flashlight, or he was one horny bastard.

  I became angry about the intrusion upon my person. Maybe, that’s why I had to pay the cover charge. It was to cover the owner’s ass when a client reported someone poked a woody on their behind.