Dancing Dirty

Chapter One


In the summer of 1978, everyone still called him Junior. His real name was Maxwell—the same as his father, Dr. Maxwell Edgar. He was eighteen years old and heading into his freshman year at Yale that fall. Jimmy Carter was president and Johnny Carson was hosting The Tonight Show. This was before anyone knew about AIDS, before there was a national discussion about legalizing gay marriage, and before famous actors and actresses openly admitted they were gay.
Junior’s father was a well-respected general practitioner, in an upscale community in Philadelphia’s Main Line section, and it was the first full summer his father had taken off in more than twenty years. Junior’s mother was a housewife who changed the living room draperies from white damask to beige moiré every five years and helped organize charitable events in the community. Junior had never known anyone quite like his mother. She had the ability to look perpetually busy by doing absolutely nothing at all.
The entire family was going away that summer. Junior’s parents had bought a summer home in Northeastern Pennsylvania the previous winter. It was located on the highest elevation of the Pocono Mountains, in a private gated community called Pocono Mountain Farms. Junior’s mother had been bugging his father to take time off since before Junior was born and she’d finally won.
So on a warm morning in June, they packed the trunk of Dr. Edgar’s brand-new navy blue Lincoln Town Car and headed north. Junior’s mother, Elaine, sat up front; Junior was in the back seat with his younger sister, Laney. Though the car was a barge, Junior sat bunched up against the door behind the driver’s seat and Laney sat close to the door behind the front passenger seat with her knees pressed together. The wide armrest in the middle of the enormous back seat was up, and there was an empty space between them. But the seat wasn’t really empty at all. Laney’s best friend, a large invisible dog named Elmer, was resting quietly. Supposedly, Elmer was a black mongrel, with pale blue eyes, long ears that pointed up, and the ability to speak. He went everywhere with them.
Elmer had been around for three years, since Laney had turned thirteen. The entire family had been sitting around the dinner table one Wednesday night, just like any other normal weeknight, when Laney announced that she wanted to introduce them to her new friend, Elmer. She smiled and gestured to an empty space beside her chair. Dr. Edgar coughed on a brussels sprout; Elaine Edgar dropped her fork with a clank. Junior just sat there, staring at the empty space next to his sister’s chair with wide eyes.
A month later, after three therapists and a battery of medical exams that came up with nothing, Junior’s parents struck a deal with Laney. If she promised not to mention Elmer in public, to anyone, they’d allow Elmer to be part of the family without any arguments or questions. Laney agreed. After that, Dr. Edgar smiled and said Laney had a great imagination and that she was just going through a harmless adolescent stage. Elaine even did some research about creatures like Elmer at the public library and discovered the word Puca (pronounced pooka), which she learned was typically a harmless shapeshifter of Irish folklore that brought humans good luck.
Only Junior’s family wasn’t Irish, and neither Junior nor Laney were allowed to mention their good luck charm—Elmer—in public. Not even when Elmer said something important. And according to Laney, he spoke fluent English all the time.
When they finally reached their exit on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, Dr. Edgar asked Junior’s mother for toll money and Junior sat up to look out the window. He’d been reading Kahlil Gibran all the way up, trying hard to make the two-hour trip go by faster. Gibran’s writing on spiritual love comforted Junior and gave him hope. Junior’s teenage years were almost behind him and he’d never experienced romance or love with anyone. He was still a virgin. In those days young men like Junior, those attracted to other men, kept their feelings just as quiet as a teenage girl with an invisible black dog named Elmer.
When Junior lurched forward to look out the window, Laney gave him a dead stare and pointed to the empty space between them. She shook her index finger and said, “You’re sitting on Elmer’s tail.” Her eyebrows knitted together and her lips tightened.
“Ah well,” Junior said. His mouth was half open and he edged closer to the door. “Tell Elmer I’m sorry.” What else could he say? This had become a way of life by then; there was no use arguing with her.
“You tell him yourself,” Laney said. Then she gazed down at the empty seat and smiled. “He didn’t mean it, Elmer. He’s just a klutz.”
Junior blinked.
His mother turned her heard and gave Junior one of her famous raised-eyebrow looks.
So Junior shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sorry, Elmer, it was an accident,” to the blank space on the seat. Then he looked over at his sister and rolled his eyes. Laney had pulled a pocket mirror out of her purse and she wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. She was checking her hair, picking at it with the tail end of a long pink comb. She’d just had her hair cut like Farrah Fawcett for the summer, with thick wispy curls and streaks of blond that made her look older than she really was.
Twenty minutes later, Junior saw a green sign with bright gold letters that read Pocono Mountain Farms and his father hit the left turn signal. He pulled up to the security gate and handed the guard a small identification card. The guard handed it back, smiled, and said, “Welcome, Dr. Edgar. You can drive right up to the main clubhouse and pick up your beach passes, pool passes, and everything else you’ll need for the summer.”
Then a long wooden pole lifted and they drove onto a smooth, dark road lined with tall leafy trees and low, flat shrubbery. On the way to the main clubhouse, they passed hidden driveways that led to newly built high-end chalets and log cabins. The man who had developed The Farms had envisioned it to resemble a Swiss resort, with every amenity available to the residents. The small private colony had been built around the former estate home of a very wealthy woman who had been the heiress to a banana fortune. Each home was at least three thousand square feet, and each had been situated on a two-acre lot.
The clubhouse, as it was referred to by everyone, turned out to be a sprawling stone mansion with an east wing and a west wing. There was a swimming pool, formal gardens, a private lake, and a professional golf course. The clubhouse had several dining rooms, a professional gym, a spa, and practically every other amenity a five-star hotel had. Though no one in Junior’s family cared much for skiing or winter sports, this was also a year-round resort community. Dr. Edgar was planning to rent his house out during the winter months, hoping to make a little extra money on the side.
When the car pulled up in front of the main clubhouse, a round, portly man threw his arms forward and shouted, “Welcome to The Farms, Dr. Edgar!” His name was Ben Timberlake. He was the developer and the man who now ran the clubhouse and oversaw all the activities. He was a huge fan of Dr. Edgar’s. He claimed Dr. Edgar had saved his life during a routine appendectomy. Ben had been given a drug that had caused a severe allergic reaction, and Dr. Edgar had been the only one who’d been able to diagnose it correctly. Ben had been the one who had talked Dr. Edgar into buying a summer place there, at a huge discount. And because Ben was so thankful to Dr. Edgar for saving his life, he’d given Dr. Edgar one full year there without paying any community association dues. This included everything from clubhouse activities, to dancing lessons, to weekly trash pickup.
Dr. Edgar stepped out of the car and smoothed his slacks. He crossed toward Ben and reached for his hand.
“Welcome,” Ben said. “It’s so good to see the man who saved my life. How was your trip?”
“Wonderful,” Dr. Edgar said. Whenever Ben mentioned that Dr. Edgar had saved his life, Dr. Edgar smiled so widely, his gums showed.
Elaine stepped up behind her husband and shook Ben’s hand. Then Laney opened her door, slowly rose from the car, and waited a minute too long to close the door. She stood there staring at the empty back seat, smiling at nothing. Junior’s parents and Ben were facing Laney. While Laney hesitated and stared at the back seat, she nodded and made a gesture with her arm. As far as Ben Timberlake knew, Dr. Edgar only had two children. So he tipped his head to the side and leaned forward to see if there was anyone else getting out of the car. When he saw the back seat was empty, he blinked and pressed his palm to his throat.
Junior looked at Dr. Edgar and smiled. Dr. Edgar cleared his throat and gave Elaine a nod. Junior knew his parents didn’t want Ben to know about Laney’s imaginary Puca friend, Elmer. So Dr. Edgar quickly looped his arm through Ben’s and turned him around. Elaine grabbed Ben’s other arm. Ben tried to look back, but Dr. Edgar kept talking fast. And without giving poor Ben a chance to speak, Dr. Edgar and Elaine carted him off the main dining room, where they were handing out resident passes and identification tags.
Laney slammed the back door shut and followed them to the clubhouse, taking slow steps, stopping to look down at Elmer every so often. Junior smiled and shook his head, leaning back against the Lincoln’s wide trunk lid. Though Junior would never have admitted this to anyone aloud, he didn’t mind having Elmer around. There had been times when he’d thought that he’d actually seen Elmer, too. It always happened fast, while he was turning his head or reading something. He’d sense a distinct presence and out of the corner of his eye, in a flash, he’d see a dark image that resembled a dog. But when he turned to face it head on, there was nothing there.
While Junior was watching Laney, he heard deep, loud voices. He turned to the right and stared down toward the bottom of a well-trimmed grassy ravine. A men’s soccer team was jogging onto an athletic field. They were hooting and yelling, passing a soccer ball back and forth. From where Junior was standing, he could see their strong, hairy legs bouncing up and down. They were wearing skimpy white shorts, white athletic socks, and oversized red jerseys. He was too far away to see any bulges between their legs, but his imagination didn’t let him down. When he started to picture all those thick, floppy penises jerking around in tight sweaty jock straps, his brand-new designer jeans began to tighten. He’d always had a thing for soccer players.
He squared his shoulders and turned around fast so his erection would be against the trunk lid. He clenched his fists and willed his dick to go down again. He thought about foods he hated and the time he’d received a D on a final exam. His dick had a mind of its own, and thinking about bad things always seemed to do the trick. But just when his erection started to subside, two good-looking young guys walked by and smiled at him. They were carrying tennis rackets and they were both wearing white tennis shorts. The one on the left had dark hairy legs, and the one on the right had enormous thigh muscles covered with a thin layer of blond fleece.
Junior smiled back and nodded, but he was picturing himself going down on his knees in front of them. He’d pull down their zippers with his teeth and take turns pressing his face between their legs. He had a thing for tennis players, too.
Then he shook his head fast and tried to focus on bad things again, willing his erection to disappear. He was wearing a white polo shirt that day, with black horizontal stripes across the middle, and it only came down to the top of his waist. If he’d known there would have been this many hot-looking guys in The Farms he would have worn the green polo that covered his entire crotch.
He felt trapped. Back home he would have run to his bedroom and pulled his collection of porn magazines out from under his bed. Sometimes jerking off was the only way to relieve the tension. But Junior had left all his magazines at home, knowing it wasn’t safe to travel with magazines of nude men and a nosy little sister.
Then he felt a tap on his shoulder. Before he even had a chance to turn his head, someone said, “Hey, I’m Valerie Timberlake, Ben’s daughter. Your mom and dad said you’d be out here. They told me to come out and introduce myself.”
The second he heard Valerie’s high-pitched nasal voice, his erection started to shrink. He made a mental note to remember her the next time he needed to control himself.
He turned all the way around and reached for her small puffy hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, silently thanking her for saving him from what could have been an awkward erection moment.
Valerie wasn’t a bad-looking young woman. She had long, bushy black curls, sharp angular features, and long, thin arms. She was wearing a blousy peasant dress that afternoon, with a white off-the-shoulder top and beige earth shoes. Her eyeglasses were large round discs with thick lenses. She mentioned she was also a entering her freshman year of college, then looked him up and down and smiled.
Immediately, Junior crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the car as far away from Valerie as he could get. He knew that look in Valerie’s eyes. He recognized that soft, sultry tone in her voice. This had happened to him before. Aggressive girls like Valerie were always looking him up and down, staring into his eyes with that painful come-hither expression on their faces. Her head was tilted to the side and her chin was pointed down. She gave him a half smile and her eyelashes started to flutter when she looked at his lips.
“You have such thick sandy blond hair,” she said, moving closer. “And such large blue eyes.”
“Ah well,” he said, “you have nice hair too.” Her hair reminded him of steel wool dipped in black paint. And her skin was too soft and milky for his taste.
“Do you like to dance?” she asked. “There’s a band tonight in the main dance hall and everyone’s going to be there.” She took a small step toward him. Her cheap flowery perfume turned his stomach and made his nose itch.
Junior edged to the side of the car, making sure he didn’t rub against her bare arm, and stepped away from the car.
“Ah well,” he said. “I’m not much of a dancer, to be honest. I have two left feet.”
Then he heard Laney’s familiar voice near the front end of the car. “Come on, Elmer,” she said. She was walking toward the car and Dr. and Mrs. Edgar were coming up in the distance. When poor Laney realized she’d said Elmer’s name out loud in public, she pressed her palms over her mouth and gasped.
“Hey,” Junior shouted, rushing to Laney’s rescue and saving himself from Valerie at the same time. “There she is.”
He left Valerie standing in the street alone and ran over to Laney. He threw his arms around her and hugged her as tightly as he could. “I was wondering where you were, kid.”
“Who is Elmer?” Valerie asked. She put her hands on her hips. She looked around, but it was only the three of them.
Laney’s mouth opened wide and her head fell back. Junior hadn’t hugged her this way since they’d been toddlers.
“Elmer is a little nickname that Laney uses for me,” he said. He looked down at Laney and smiled. “Right?”
Laney nodded yes.
“Well. I love that. It’s so nice. To see a brother who is close to his sister is refreshing,” Valerie said. Then she wiggled her fingers and smiled. “I hope I’ll see you tonight at the dance. Everyone’s going to be there. We’ll have bunches and bunches of fun.”
“Yes. The dance. We’ll see.”
“I have to run now,” Valerie said. “I’m off for my tennis lesson.”
“Bye now,” Junior said, forcing a smile.
As Valerie turned to leave, Junior opened the back door for Laney and Elmer. He patted Laney’s shoulder and smiled. Laney didn’t say anything to him. She was still worried about talking to Elmer in public. He waited for Elmer to get into the car first, then Laney climbed inside and he shut the door. Then looked up at the sky and took a deep breath, wondering how he was going to get through the entire summer with Valerie Timberlake on his heels.