One of the biggest music festivals in Australia had, for years, been conducted within a reasonably short distance from the beachside town in which I live.
It seemed like everyone my age went to it, year after year. Except me. Why, when there been a degree of peer group pressure to go, hadn't I'd gone? I like music; that wasn't the issue. But I wasn't really one to sit on the ground for two days, high on some substance and just nodding my head to the ear burstingly loud music beat. To me music was something that made you get up and dance; preferably with a partner, or was just a nice, not too loud background to a pleasant conversation.
Without really checking on what my friends were doing, I thought I should unshackle myself from my inhibitions and give it a go; only after paying the exorbitant price, discovering that, after the complete washout out the previous two years, they we giving it a miss. Oh, well. I was by nature a bit of a loner. I could deal with that.
With my camper van, I got there early enough to get a decent spot; conveniently close to the food and entertainment; as long as you're willing to put up with the music well into the night.
Clothing wise, I'd decided to go a bit hippy; making good use of a couple of pairs of very fine white linen/cotton pants. I'd actually bought them - at a local hippy shop - to act as cool sun protectors while mowing my acreage on my ride on mower after finding my balls were getting cooked if I did it in jeans; but the issue for the festival was the same one. It was forecast to be hot and very sunny.
That was matched with a pair of something between a long sleeve shirt and a vest, made of the same ultra-fine material, tie dyed in some interesting but very faded colours. It was shirt like in that it had long sleeves; vest like in that it had no collar and had a plunging V line at the front with just a couple of buttons offering the option of closing it.
I just figured, if you're going to go to something like this, you might as well play the role; it's not that I expected everyone else to be dressed the same. Indeed with all the people likely to be coming up from Sydney, I knew I'd probably stand out like a sore toe. But what the heck! It would provide cover for my intention to actually dance to the music; even if I did have to act like some stoned out hippy.
I wasn't really all that knowledgeable about the bands that were playing. I simply let myself be drawn towards a stage where the band seemed to be playing music with the sort of rhythm I preferred; a nice beat and not too loud.
Sussing out the crowd, I positioned myself on the edge of a group of -- mainly women -- who were on their feet, some just swaying, some actually dancing, and with everything in between, to the music. I figured I should get the vibe of the group before I got up and made a fool of myself. Oh, I was going to make a fool of myself anyway. I was not going to be a sitting head nodder. It was just a matter of doing it in a way that minimised the differences.
It was an interesting group. To a certain extent, you could pick the locals; or some of them anyway. The city chicks were fairly distinguishable by their rather boring clothing; denim shorts and t shirts, or something similar for the most part, and not very flattering at that. Tight, ripped jeans were about as sexy as they went.
Some of the ones I judged to be locals were dressed more consistently with the local vibe; lace or crochet dresses or skirts or fine cotton or linen clothing that moved rather delightfully, and sometimes, teasingly, with their dancing. Or maybe I was just being prejudicial and dividing them unreasonably.
There was one girl who caught my eye. With long blonde, sun bleached locks and dressed in a white linen skirt and a loose flowing crop top of equally fine material, she had a delightfully seductive way of dancing, not unlike my own preferred style and included a few spins that lifted her skirt teasingly up. Plus unlike most of the others, she didn't seem to be part of a group who kept looking at each other for reinforcement. The fact she was tall and slender with a pretty face only added to my pleasure in watching her.
But that was all very well. I was well aware that if I simply tried joining the group acting like some alpha male expecting them all to bow down to my presence, I wouldn't be doing myself any favours. I stood up and joined them, positioning myself a little behind the girl in linen, but not in a way that imposed upon her. I decided my best approach was simply to let myself go, enjoy the dancing as I wanted to do it and, if someone wanted to dance with me, so much the better.
Ignoring the possibility of any interaction, I zoned out to the music; enjoying the visual sight of the women around me but completely suppressing any expectation of interaction with others.
I appreciated it when some of the women exchanged smiles with me. That was better than being completely ignored; even if the smile might have been more one of amusement at the daggy male. I appreciated it even more when, in the process of a spin, the girl in linen flashed a gorgeous smile at me.
I noticed that her spins became a little more frequent and the smiles; bigger and more prolonged. That was nice. Indeed, I started to get the impression she was flirting with me. When facing the stage, so away from me, her dancing started to show a pronounced sway of her rather cute bottom in a way that wasn't there before. And periodically she would turn towards me and match my dancing as if we were partnering at a distance; while her face lit up with the most entrancing smile.
I suppose I should have responded more positively and taken a lead in the next move. But I decided to let her set the agenda, least I was misreading the situation.
Then, on a spin, she extended a hand to me. I accepted it and gently -- because I wasn't sure she'd recognise the signal - led her into a turn. She spun around my hand like an expert and as she came back, brought her body against mine, placed an arm around my waist and looked up at me...
"That's a rare treat. A man who can dance."
"Thank you. But you're a very good dancer yourself."
"Where did you learn?"
"At a local dance school, so I could go to the rock and roll night at a local RSL club."
As we danced, if not completely arm in arm, at least hand to hips, using our all too familiar rock and roll dance steps, I discovered she too was a local and had gone to the same dance school -- at a different time -- but, not being aware of the dance opportunities at the RSL had found it rather frustrating to find dancing venues.
When the music became a slower beat, she relaxed her body against me; partly swaying, partly stepping to the music. It was a delightful moment. I could feel her left breast pushed against my chest, a wonderful womanly aroma wafting through my senses. As I looked down at her head as she rested it against me, the low neckline of her loose fitting crop top gave me a down blouse view of the whole of her right breast; a beautiful, perky cone of a breast, much larger than I had guessed they might be and with the most erotic nipple hardened and extended from its tip. It certainly occurred to me her nipple's reaction, in the heat of the day, may well indicate I was having some effect on her.
It also made me aware that maybe going commando, in the interest of comfort, under the loose lightweight pants I was wearing might not have been a good idea. There was nothing to constrain the partial erection her contact with me had generated. A half mongrel, it pointed nearly straight out, only a slight angling of my hips stopping it from pushing into her lower stomach. But that meant an observant person near us could hardly fail to notice it.
