Girls Talk Memoir, Disco
He Touched Me — There — And I Liked It
Grabbing my hand, he literally swirled me into the middle of the dance floor before holding my waist and pulling me close.
Staying as much as possible in chronological order, the next few stories are about the young May and boys or discos!
After the first kiss episode, my friendship group began to mix outside of school with other small cliques in the class, and this included my old pals Victoria and Jane.
I think this came about as Margie’s brother Andy went up into the sixth form at his school, and got to know Victoria's brother, who had previously been in a different form group. This meant when there were social occasions the sisters — and friends like me — were invited.
As already mentioned I was working with Jane in the village greengrocers at the weekend, and one of the men who owned the shop also ran the local catholic youth club. I went as often as I could, but what we all found tremendously exciting was the end of term discos.
Jane and I were at a positive advantage because we were part of the YC, most of the others didn’t live so near to it. And we not only knew our friends who came to the discos, but we also mixed with some of the local kids from the other schools. Which meant for us, these nights were not daunting at all.
I had turned fifteen a few months earlier and we were enjoying a very warm spring. The next event had been announced, and now I worked, I had my own cash to buy the type of clothes I liked. A few weeks earlier, I had purchased a tiered gypsy skirt and wanted a camisole top to complete the look. The day before the disco, I found the perfect one and have never forgotten how pretty it was.
It was made of white cotton mimicking lace, was sleeveless and had buttons down the front. Across the bust and travelling up to the straps was a thread of pale pink ribbon, which you could tie to achieve the ruching effect you were after. At that age, I was easily able to go braless, which was lucky as the top looked much prettier without one.
It went perfectly with my skirt and I headed off to the disco on cloud nine.
When I arrived, a group of my friends were outside chatting, and I stopped and joined them for a while before going in to get a drink and find Jane.
Jane and I liked to dance — often on the tables, until we were told to get down by Big John. After a short while I needed some air, so grabbing my jacket (it wasn’t so warm by now) I headed back outside and saw some friends chatting to a couple of boys I didn’t recognise.
When I went over to join them, one lad was entertaining Margie, so I engaged in conversation with Teresa and Midge. However, what happened next was a little embarrassing, but of course young people are fickler than most.
Somehow I caught the boy's attention, and as if transfixed he literally turned his back on Margie, looked straight into my eyes and said, “You’re … nice, what are you called?”
In the background, I heard Margie turn to the others and say, “how rude.” This was one of her catchphrases. She used it if anything happened to offend her.
And she was right. The lad was now acting as if she didn’t exist. He reached out and touched the broach on my jacket, “This is pretty. But not quite as pretty as you.”
Yes… a corny line I know! But come on — reader. I was only just fifteen. And had been a gawky wallflower only a year or so earlier. And if you remember, I had walked away from Greg because Margie was keen on him — I wasn’t going to do that again.
This boy was smart and very quick-witted. We exchanged banter for a while before most of the others went inside, so I joined them.
Then, it was slow dance time.
Margie’s brother had recently taken a bit of a shine to me and I thought he was okay, yet for some reason didn’t want to dance with him. I deliberately took off my shoes and sat on the side of one of the tables swinging my legs, so when Andy came over and asked, I was ready with an excuse.
In fact, I was in the process of saying I wasn’t in the mood for smooching when the lad I’d met outside appeared. I saw him out of the corner of my eye scan the hall, until he spied me.
As fast as lightening, he scooted over and got in-between me and Andy. “Let’s dance.” He stated.
“I haven’t got my shoes on. Not sure where they are.”
Andy stood there, not saying a thing.
“Ah, don’t worry. I like you barefoot.” Then grabbing my hand, the unknown boy literally swirled me into the middle of the dance floor before holding my waist and pulling me close.
Very close.
The lights were dim, a ballad was blaring out from the speakers, and I was nearly ready to swoon. The moment was running away with me, and I knew I didn’t want it to end.
It seemed passionate.
He was exciting.
Knew what he wanted and acted on this, or impulse.
I liked that. It made me feel vital.
The song moved on to another. The final anthem of the night. The lights seemed to lower even further, and then… he kissed me. At the same time, his hand wandered under my camisole and caressed the flesh.
Although scared in case someone may notice — I didn’t stop him. I was shocked yet exhilarated too. I was on fire and didn’t want the music to end. But it did.
He stood back, smiled and still holding my hand said, “See you again, beautiful.”
The night was over and left me with all kinds of questions.
- Who was he?
- Was it wrong to feel that way when someone touched you?
- Should I not have been affronted rather than attracted to his brash manner?
Alpha Male?
I am not keen on labels, but I think this young man would be classed by society as an alpha male. He knew exactly what he wanted and was assured enough to get it. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t abide rudeness, but confidence is fine by me.
Nowadays, so-called alpha males get a bad press because the media and such like have morphed them into being narcissistic w@nkers.
In my opinion, alphas are in control of their character, knowing their strengths and recognising weaknesses, as well as being secure within themselves, and honest with others.
I certainly had not met anyone as assertive as this lad, and soon would meet another. It should have taught me how much I enjoy being with men who can match my spark and enthusiasm. However, it took me many years for that to finely sink in!
And of course —because I was so keen to see this young man again — I never did. I wonder what happened to him?
Another Memoir from this time in my life:
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