Inside, the club was still half empty. I looked around, and thought, no wonder Jason had never come here. It was a dark, low-ceilinged room with a small dance floor in the middle and a rickety-looking light show at the front, where a DJ was standing behind a pair of turntables, making the odd remark into a microphone as he put on records. Around the dance floor there were some scuffed plastic tables and cheap wooden chairs, with a bar to one side. I scanned the scene, wondering what I would do if Cassie and Fiona weren't there—whether I'd go over to the bar and get myself a drink, or sit down without a drink in case I wanted to leave suddenly, or just leave straight away—when to my relief I saw the pair of them sitting over in the corner near the DJ.
Cassie saw me too, and waved me over. She looked good. She was wearing a glittery black and gold halter-neck top, and had combed her hair out into an Afro that made my crimps look conventional. Fiona looked just the same as usual, except that her long brown hair was loose over her shoulders instead of tied back in a ponytail. She hadn't dressed up at all, unless you counted wearing a long navy blue cardigan with a tie belt over her T-shirt and jeans.
“Hey, you made it,” said Cassie as I sat down. “I thought you'd blown us out.”
“I nearly did,” I said. “It's freezing out there. Is my nose red?”
Cassie peered at me. “Can't see in here,” she said. “I like your hair, though.”
“Yours looks great,” I said. “And your top. Amazing.”
Fiona shot me a frosty look. I turned to her.
“Hi. All right?” I tried to think of something nice to say about her cardigan but couldn't.
Fiona rolled her eyes. “God, you two. Clothes and hairstyles. It'll be boyfriends and periods next.”
Cassie laughed. “Sorry, Fiona. But we're women's libbers at heart, you know.” She tossed her head. “We're not ugly, we're not beautiful, we're angry!”
Fiona gave a sigh of frustration. “It's all very well taking the piss,” she said. “But if it wasn't for the women's liberation movement you wouldn't even be here.”
I wasn't quite sure what she meant by that, and I had a feeling she wasn't either, but I wasn't going to start an argument.
“And anyway Cass,” she continued. “They're not women's libbers, they're feminists. You should know that.”
I could see Cassie was getting irritated, but she was trying not to show it. I changed the subject. “Where's Rick?” I asked. Rick was Cassie's official boyfriend, the one she lived with in town.
“God, he wouldn't be seen dead in here,” she replied. “Anyway, it's my night off.”
“And Taylor?”
John Taylor was Cassie's tutor, the one she was having an affair with.
“Don't be ridiculous, he'd have a heart attack.”
Taylor was only in his forties, but Cassie always talked about him as if he were an old-age pensioner.
“Anyway,” she continued, “what's happened to Jason?”
“Jason's up in London as usual. And he wouldn't have come down anyway. Says it's not his kind of place.”
“Good,” said Cassie. “That's the whole point of coming here. Leave the men behind, that's what I say.”
“You mean, pick up a few more,” said Fiona. There was a silence, and then we all laughed.
The dance floor was filling up and the DJ was starting to talk in rhyme over the records. I could see that Cassie was itching to dance. She went off and got us some drinks, put them down on the table, but didn't sit down again. Instead, she hovered by the table, moving in time to the music.
After a while, to my surprise, Fiona got up and did the same. At first, I was too self-conscious to join them, so I sat there on my own, smoking a cigarette and looking down at the table. But as I listened to the music, I started wanting to dance too. I wasn't very familiar with reggae, but the records the DJ was playing were better than anything I'd heard before. The rhythm was deep and repetitive, but with a bounce in it that made it hard to keep still, and above it the singer's voice floated, light and high:
It's hard for a man to live without a woman
And a woman needs a man to cling to …
Fiona didn't seem to notice how chauvinist the words were, and was dancing with her eyes closed, moving her body in a slow, oddly graceful way. Beside her, Cassie was moving fast, her eyes wide open, looking around her and seeming to relish every detail of what was going on. When she caught my eye, she raised her hands in the air and wiggled her bottom.
“Come on, Susannah,” she said.
I couldn't resist the urge to join them, so I got up and the three of us went out onto the floor. It was easy music to dance to. The DJ was pacing the tracks so that each one connected to the last but was slightly different in rhythm or style; the pulse of it sometimes quickened, sometimes slowed, but each time eventually settled into a relaxed groove.
As we danced, I seem to lose my sense of time and space. I began to feel very light, as though my body weighed nothing and was just moving of its own accord; and although the room was airless and dark, it seemed to me that there was a cool breeze running through my hair, and that a soft ray of light was shining down on me from somewhere up above. I felt comforted and relieved, the way I did when I listened to John Martyn or read Nietzsche, only this time it was more intense. The thought ran through my head that there was nothing for me to worry about; that everything, in the end, would be all right, whatever I decided to do; that, somehow, I was blessed.
The free spirit again approaches life, slowly of course, almost recalcitrantly, almost suspiciously. It grows warmer around him again, yellower, as it were; feeling and fellow-feeling gain depth; mild breezes of all kinds pass over him …
We stayed out there for what seemed like hours, only nipping over to our table occasionally to take a swig of our drinks. As the evening wore on, the DJ started moving from records I'd never heard to pop hits like “I Shot the Sheriff” and “The Harder They Come.” More and more dancers took to the floor, until it was so hot and sweaty that we gave up and sat down.
I went over to the bar and got us all some glasses of water. When I came back, a group of African students had joined Cassie and Fiona at our table. Cassie introduced me to the one sitting next to me.
“Susannah, this is Tunde,” she said.
We smiled politely at each other. I could see immediately that we had nothing in common. He was not my type at all, and I could see that I wasn't his. He was tall and good looking, with beautiful blue-black skin, but his clothes were all wrong. He was dressed up to the nines, wearing a multicolored shirt and tight white trousers, and when I looked down at his feet under the table I could see that he was wearing patent leather shoes with tassels on them. He looked like the type of guy who lived in a boarding house in Eastbourne and was studying engineering at tech.
We couldn't think of anything to say to each other, and it was hard to talk over the noise, so eventually he asked me to dance. I downed most of the glass of water and went back out onto the floor, relieved that he hadn't tried to engage me in conversation. But I realized when we started dancing that I'd made a mistake.
I'd always assumed that all black people, especially Africans, were good dancers, but Tunde was the exception. He had no sense of rhythm whatsoever. It had been easy dancing with Cassie and Fiona, but with Tunde I had to concentrate, and every time I looked at him, I lost the beat. He was very tall, and when he danced, his limbs flailed about all over the place. Instead of keeping a low profile and bobbing quietly to the music, as most people without a sense of timing would do, he twirled about all over the dance floor, almost knocking people over. Several times he trod on my toes, and as his feet were large and heavy, it hurt.
As we danced, I was praying that the song would come to an end and I'd have an excuse to sit down, but it was one of those long, hypnotic tracks that seemed to go on forever. And I could see that Tunde was just getting into his stride. His movements became more and more acrobatic, until, to my amazement, he began
to do back flips, throwing his body backwards onto the floor and bouncing himself up on his hands. Staying on the dance floor with him became positively dangerous, so most of the dancers moved away, hovering on the edge and watching the display, until I was the only person left out there.
At that moment, Rob walked in. My heart sank. I'd wanted to look good when he arrived. I'd imagined that I'd be sitting with Cassie and Fiona, smoking and drinking and laughing and talking with them, so that I could just turn round nonchalantly and say hello when I saw him, and casually ask him to join us. I hadn't told the others about him, and I wanted them to think we'd just happened to bump into each other. Instead, when he arrived I was standing in the most conspicuous place possible, cowering on a deserted dance floor with a lunatic doing back flips beside me.
I didn't know what to do, so I did as little as possible. I waved briefly to Rob, then hung my head down and edged over to the side of the dance floor, moving slightly to the beat in the least obtrusive way that I could. As I did, a cheer went up from the crowd and I looked up to see Tunde flip forward on his hands and then backwards again. By now, people were crowding round the dance floor to see what was happening, and nobody was taking the slightest notice of me—least of all Tunde—so I took the opportunity to scuttle over to Rob.
When I reached him, I caught a whiff of the cold, fresh outside air on his clothes and hair and remembered when we had kissed in the Meeting House. Before I could stop myself, I took his hand and squeezed it.
“Hi,” I said.
He had a bemused look on his face. “This is quite a place, isn't it.”
“Well, we just come down here for a bit of a laugh,” I said. “Shall we get a drink?”
We went over to the bar and ordered some beers. The barman poured them out from a party four into plastic cups, and they tasted soapy and gassy, but we gulped them down anyway. We stayed by the bar for a while to get away from the noise.
“Do you come here often?” asked Rob.
Then he realized what he'd said and we both laughed.
“How did your meeting go?” I said.
“Great … it took hours, though, and in the end it wasn't quorate, so we couldn't send a message. But we did start organizing a lecture strike.”
I wasn't in the mood to discuss politics, so I didn't ask what quorate meant, or why anyone would care if students stayed away from their lectures. I just wanted to dance. By now, the dancers were crowding back onto the floor and the music was changing again, from reggae to soul. I couldn't see Cassie and Fiona or the African students, so I assumed they must all be out there on the floor along with Tunde.
Rob put his arm round me. “It's great to see you,” he said. Then he kissed me.
I felt faint as his tongue slid into my mouth. I slid mine into his, and for a moment everything—the club, the dancers, the music—seemed very far away.
When we broke apart, I said, “Do you want to dance?”
We put our beers down and walked over to the dance floor. As we did, I had a moment of panic. What if he was a terrible dancer? But as it turned out, I didn't need to worry. Rob wasn't a great dancer, but he wasn't terrible. He moved steadily in time to the music with a look of concentration on his face, watching me and copying the way I moved, trying to keep time with my steps. And as he got used to the music, he got better. I could see he had potential.
Woman, take me in your arms
Rock your baby …
The DJ started playing a romantic ballad with a light, high swing to it and the dancers pulled each other close. I drew Rob towards me, and soon I could feel his body next to mine, moving slowly beside me.
There's nothing to it
Just say you want to do it …
As the singer's voice began to soar above the music, I put my arms under his jacket, held him around the waist, moved in closer, and kissed him.
Open up your heart
And let the loving start …
As I did, I thought I felt the cool breeze in my hair again, and I seemed to see the stream of light shining down on me once more.
He kissed me back, and then I said: “Let's go.”
When we came into Rob's room, we pulled off our clothes, got into bed, and turned out the lights. There were no preliminaries. He got on top of me straightaway and we lay still, locked together.
“Don't move,” he said.
“OK,” I said.
But after a few moments he gripped me tighter and I felt his body harden and then, with a frightened cry, he came.
He held on to me without moving until finally I pushed him off gently and wriggled out from underneath him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Don't worry, I don't mind,” I said. I didn't really, but I wondered what I was letting myself in for here. Rob seemed very young, and I didn't like feeling that he didn't know how to do the things men were supposed to do. For a moment I wondered if I was making a mistake. Jason had always been so confident about sex, and I missed that. On the other hand, it was a novelty to be in bed with a man who was nervous of me, who cared about what I thought and how I felt.
“I'm really sorry,” he repeated. “It's just that …”
I put my hand out and pushed his long hair back from his face.
“Yes?” I said, as gently as I could.
“I'm not … I'm not used to this sort of thing.”
I smiled. “Well, you seemed pretty used to it the other night.”
He turned on his side, leaning on one elbow, and began to stroke my hair.
“I know,” he said. “Funny, isn't it.”
My eyes were getting used to the dark and I could just about make out his face. I moved my hand over and cupped his jaw.
“Not very,” I said. We both laughed.
“The thing is, I haven't had very much experience. You know, with Beth …”
I said nothing, so he carried on.
“Well, she didn't … well, as you know … she did let me do some things, of course, but all that time I never …”
“I know, you told me,” I said. I was trying to help. I could see he was getting flustered.
“And there wasn't anyone else,” he continued. “So I never really … until the other night.”
For a moment what he was saying didn't sink in. Then I got it.
“Oh,” I said. “So you were a …”
I stopped. I didn't like to say the word “virgin.” It was one of the uncoolest things you could be at Sussex.
“So that was the first time for you, Rob.” I spoke quietly. I was feeling guilty now. I remembered that I'd got up early that morning and left, assuming that for him it was just a one-night stand.
“Yes,” he said.
I couldn't see his expression in the dark, but I felt his body tense up. I realized that I'd hurt him, and could do so again now if I wanted to. It wasn't a feeling I liked.
“Well.” I said. I didn't quite know what to say, so I made a joke of it. “You did a pretty good job as I remember. For a novice, that is.”
His body relaxed and he gave me a playful punch. We both started laughing.
“Yes, I think you've got quite a natural talent there,” I added.
He nuzzled my ear. “But I didn't do so well tonight,” he said. “I don't know why. I think it's because … I think I'm really into you, Susannah. It's making me nervous.”
There was a pause. I wondered whether I ought to say I was really into him too, just to be polite, and to make him feel better. I knew I was happy here in bed with him, much happier than I was with Jason, and that I wanted to make love with him again, as soon as possible, but I wasn't sure that counted as really being into him. And I was worried that he was getting a bit too keen. So I said nothing. Instead, I leaned over and kissed him, twining my arms and legs round his and running my hands over his smooth skin, feeling the muscles underneath it. As I did, I felt him get a hard-on again.
I couldn't help bursting out laughing. “Blimey,” I said. “That w
as quick. A world record.”
We both hugged each other, shaking with laughter, but before long we grew serious again as lust overcame us once more.
“Well, you know what they say,” I said as he began to work his way down my body. “Practice makes perfect.”
chapter 10
Wake up, little Susie, wake up …
I was lying on a bed of warm, dry leaves in a dark wood. I could hear the patter of rain in the trees up above, and I knew that soon I would start to get wet, but for the moment the rain wasn't coming down on me. In the distance, I could hear a man's voice singing. I wanted to get up and follow it, but I was too tired to move, so I snuggled deeper into the leaves and tried to ignore it, but it came nearer and nearer until it seemed to be right in my ear.
I opened my eyes. Jason was leaning over me, holding two cups of steaming tea.
“Come on, Susie, time to get up.”
The room was dimly lit by one of the nymphs holding a glass ball, and the curtains were half open. Outside it was pitch black and you could hear the gentle, rhythmic sucking noise of the sea.
“But it's the middle of the night,” I said, closing my eyes again.
“Bermondsey,” he said. “Don't you remember?”
“Oh God,” I said, my eyes still closed. I hadn't been up to Bermondsey with Jason for a while, and he'd been nagging me to go with him again, until last night I'd finally agreed.
“You'll feel better once you're up. Here.” He put a mug of tea down on the bedside table and sat down beside me.
I propped myself up on my elbow and glanced at the alarm clock. It was half-past four.
“Sorry, Jason,” I said. “I really don't think I can. I feel awful.”
“Why, what's the matter with you?” He sounded irritated.
A Girl's Guide to Modern European Philosophy Page 9