Gym Ratz, Round 05byLilSheba©
This story is based on the 1987 movie "Dirty Dancing" and if you are not a big fan of it you probably won't recognize some of the names and scenes. But I hope you can still enjoy it, and if you're interested there are lots of video clips and trivia pages, etc. on the net where you can find just about everything referred to here.
There's a woman I've seen for years at the gym who always just struck me as a little "odd". She's a nice enough looking girl, but even more quiet than most; I've never seen her speak to anyone. But she does exercises no one else does. And little dance steps in the exercise room, right in the middle of a workout. It's almost like, for a moment, she's somewhere else. Yesterday I found out her story. I won't spoil it any more than I already have; instead I'll let my friend John tell you what happened.
I work out pretty religiously, three times a week. I spend a little time with free weights, some cardio, but mostly the exercise machines, and I spell myself by doing some toning exercises, like crunches, in the exercise room. Ever since I've been there I've noticed a woman, around my age, who spends most of her time doing exercises. Not like me, she does everything; stretching, bending, twisting; flexibility exercises I guess you'd call them. I thought maybe she was double jointed, but she doesn't go quite that far. She's just really limber.
She can just fall to the floor in a perfect split and it doesn't faze her. And she can bend over backwards, almost double. Or bend forward until her head is between her legs. And I've seen her make an arch with her back and then walk her hands in almost to her feet. And that's just a tiny sample.
When she's working out, people, including me, stop and look, it's so unusual. Most of the time etiquette says keep your eyes to yourself, but it's really hard not to watch her. But the really unique thing she does, that no one can ignore, is the little dance steps, just spontaneously it seems. It's like she's hearing rock and roll, right out of the 50's or 60's. And after a few seconds she suddenly stops, rather self-consciously.
But even that's not the thing I noticed most about her. Somehow, she looked familiar, almost like someone I knew, but I just couldn't place it. For one thing, I guessed she was around forty, but she just didn't play the part. No make-up and just shorts and a t-shirt usually, or sometimes a shirt tied in the front instead of buttoned, with maybe a sports bra underneath. I had the feeling she wanted to look like a teenager. I knew it was dumb; I was almost certain I'd never known anyone that looked like her in my life. And yet, every time I saw her the nagging thought of, "Where have I seen her before?" just popped into my mind.
Well actually, it was more than that. In her own subdued way she's very attractive, and her look really appealed to me for some reason. Kind of odd really, she just has a mop of rather unkempt, shoulder length dirty-blonde hair and no make-up, or maybe just a little lip gloss. But she's very slim and toned of course; she works out hard and almost every day. Even at about 5'4' I guessed she couldn't weigh much over 100 pounds.
Her breasts look like they might be pretty good sized compared with the rest of her, but who could tell, she has them so strapped down in the tight bra. Her hips, while nicely curved, are narrow, and she has a small, well-rounded butt and nice long slender legs.
And then, one day a few weeks ago, it happened. I was just coming out of the locker room and she was heading in at her usual bouncy pace, and I guess I wasn't looking. We almost ran square into each other, so close she put out a hand on my chest to stop herself. And we ended up face to face, six inches apart, our eyes opened wide in surprise. And I knew!
I should have just apologized and kept on going, but instead, I said, "Excuse me, are you "Baby"? I ... I..." I had no idea why I said that, and I just stammered.
But she looked at me like she'd seen a ghost. "Oh my god, no one's called me that in years!"
I felt like I'd already overstepped the bounds, and all I could say was, "Oh I'm sorry," and head out to the gym floor. I knew that sounded really dumb, but now I knew what I was thinking and my head was spinning round and round, so much I had trouble concentrating on my workout.
When I finally went to the exercise room she was there of course, and I was very careful not to even glance in her direction. But I climbed onto the incline bench to do some crunches, and in the mirrors that line the walls I could see her -- staring at me! Now I was worried, afraid she was really upset, and that was the last thing I wanted. But when I finished my sets, got a towel and wiped down the bench, she was standing there, waiting. And she said, very quietly, "Please, come talk to me." And it looked like she was almost about to cry.
I followed her out to the little table in the corner and we sat. I didn't know what to expect, but I was scared to death. She still had that teary look, and she said, "Why did you call me that?"
I had to tell her the truth. "I've been thinking you looked familiar, and when we were face to face there for a moment I realized, you look to me exactly like "Baby" from "Dirty Dancing". You know, the movie! But that was dumb and really rude of me, and I'm really sor ..." She put up a hand that stopped me in mid-sentence.
"I AM baby! No, of course I'm not but ... I was 16 when I saw that movie the first time. And I fell in love, not just with Patrick, but the whole damn movie! I wanted it to be my life!" And there was a tear running down one pretty cheek.
Of course, my hair wasn't like this then, but everyone saw the resemblance in my face, and in school they did start to call me "Baby". And pretty soon something happened to me. I felt like "Baby" somehow. I wanted to be "Baby". And of course I got the movie on video tape. And I played it over and over. I wore out two copies."
And I wanted to take dance lessons; I wanted to be like Jennifer and Cynthia. And I begged and pleaded until my parents paid for them. I did it for years and got pretty good, but never anything like them. And finally when I was on my own I couldn't afford the lessons any more. But I still try; I still work out to stay in shape, and I know you and everyone else see me space out and start dancing in the middle of the damn gym! The littlest thing, the littlest thought sets me off and I just can't help it!"
"And now, I'm trapped in "Baby". It's not like I don't want to be, I'm still in love with the movie and the character just as much as ever. But it messes up my life. I get in trouble at work all the time, daydreaming. And I don't even have a boyfriend! Everyone I go out with ends up thinking I'm a weirdo. And I guess they're right. It's an obsession! And no one else shares it!"
I couldn't help it. I reached out and put my hand over hers. She didn't react, but she didn't pull away. I meant it as comfort and I guess she took it that way. I looked at her with a big smile and said, "I don't suppose your real name is Frances?"
Again, disbelief in her eyes. "No. And my last name isn't Houseman either. I thought about changing it, but my parents said they'd disown me and I couldn't afford it and all that it would mean anyhow. I'm Cathy Carter. But please, it's Baby!"
Then she added, "And ... who are you?"
I almost didn't want to tell her. I was afraid she'd think I was lying, or maybe just get upset. "I'm ... I'm John. Not Castle; Porter. And no, no one calls me Johnny."
In a tiny little voice, "Would ... would you mind if I did?"
Softly I said, "Ok."
But now I had to tell her the rest. I didn't really want to do that either; I was afraid she would get upset or think I was playing her, but if we were going to talk, I owed it to her.
"Please Baby, don't take this wrong. I was 16 when I saw the movie the first time, too. And it was the first sexy movie I'd ever seen. And back then, it really was. But something happened to me, too. That night I grew up. I became a man, with adult feelings and desires. Of course, the first thing that hit me, being a teenager, was the sex. I'd never seen a movie where a girl even pretended to be naked, let alone made love. But that wasn't it. I lay awake all night that night. And I cried. And by the next day I was so in love. With Baby! I don't think I was quite obsessed, like you, but it took me years to get over it. That's dumb. I'm not over it, I never will be. I still watch the movie, I'm really not even a movie fan, but it's hands down my favorite. But at least it's usually at the back of my mind, until something brings it up."
"Today, it was you. I hope that doesn't upset you, but at least you know why. Now I'm just surprised it took so long." And suddenly, I felt her hand grip mine. And I looked as tears streamed down her cheeks, until I reached over and brushed them away.
"Baby, will you go out with me?"
When I picked her up at eight, no more tears, she was glowing! And so was I. Something in my heart was already dancing. I looked at her and she took my breath away. No make-up of course, and just a simple sleeveless top and a modest skirt. But she'd let the dogs out! And yes, she has breasts! Full, even under the loose top. "You're beautiful." Was all I could say.
But she caught me looking. "They're too big. I thought about a reduction, but no money. And my mother thought I was crazy when I mentioned it. I hope you don't mind."
With a little laugh and a big smile I said, "Baby, I hope you know better than that. After all, "Baby" was what, 18 when the movie was made? Don't you think she might have filled out by the time she was 41? You're perfect!" It probably sounded a little bit corny, BS, but it got me a great big smile, and off we went!
There's a club in town that specializes in retro music, and since it was Friday they were open that night, and of course, it was the only place we could go. I was a little scared, I love to dance but I knew she'd be 10 times better than me, and of course I was right. But after all, on one level, that's what "Dirty Dancing" is all about.
And we made out fine. Hell, it was the best time of my life! I did what I could on the rock tunes and when they played a slow dance, even though we were almost strangers, we danced "dirty". I didn't even have to coax her to press against me, and no matter what I did, good or bad, she was right with me. And what I noticed almost as much as her body was her eyes. They were always locked on mine, and smiling. We didn't do anything wild, no lifts or any fancy stuff, I couldn't, although I know now that she can, and I'm learning. But we danced almost every dance, and when we left at midnight her little hand was on mine, almost all the way home.
When I pulled up in the drive to her house, a 50's split level that had belonged to her parents, we looked at each other. And we kissed, for the very first time. And all of a sudden I was shaking like a leaf.
"Come on in," she said with that smile, but she waited for me to go round and open the door for her. Just like she always does.
She took my hand and led me to the door, and when she let us in I wondered what would happen next. But she said, "Johnny, come with me, please." And she led me to the spare room at the end of the hall. But it wasn't a bedroom, it was a shrine! Movie posters and pictures of Baby, Johnny, Penny and the rest of the cast lined the walls, and the rest of the room was filled with everything from books and stuffed figures to racks of retro clothing. And of course there were t-shirts, jewelry, mugs, 57 Chevys and a sign pointing to the Kellerman Resort, along with a zillion pictures of it.
I was awestruck, and I almost forgot her for a moment as I looked around. And when I looked for her she was in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall and smiling at me. Instantly I knew. It was a test. And I had the answer. I walked over, took her hand and pulled her to me, and as I did I said, "NO one puts Baby in a corner!"
She had a bright smile for a moment, but then it disappeared, and she crushed her face into my shoulder, tears already streaming down her cheeks. She was blubbering, but after a minute and a long sniff she managed to squeak out, "My god, what are you doing to me?"
I had no answer. I thought she was doing it to me. I wrapped my arms around her and said, "Baby, I told you I loved the movie, and watched it many times. And I've cried over it. And there are millions of people out there that love it too! But you have taken it to another level, because in some ways, you really are "Baby". You look like her and you feel like her, and everything that happened in the movie somehow struck a chord with you, almost to the point of becoming part of your life. She is personal and real to you; the rest of us just love the movie!"
Another sniff, and she looked up at me with watery eyes, "Johnny, is that how it is? I'm just some kind of a psycho who's wasted her whole life wanting, longing, yearning to be like someone who never was? Am I really so far from reality that I don't know what it even is any more?"
There was a long silence and she buried her face in my chest again, quietly sniffling. And I realized how what I'd said to her would sound like that's what I meant. There was some truth to it. But I knew, there was more, so much more, another side to her story. A beautiful side. But I didn't know how to say it.
But she sniffed once more and raised her head again, and although her cheeks were still wet she had the traces of a smile. She pushed away just a bit and said, "Johnny, come with me." And she took my hand and led me down the hall.
She pushed open another door, the master bedroom, and the first things I saw were a queen-sized bed, perfectly made, a thick shag rug, frilly white curtains, white walls and a dresser that looked showroom new. Then she pushed the door all the way back and I saw the other half of the room. Pine paneling, bare wood floor, a homemade bookcase with a few books and some empty beer bottles here and there, and a couple of wooden chairs with clothes thrown all over them. And in the corner another bed, Just a mattress and box spring on the floor, a couple of white pillows, sheets and a raggedy red blanket, all just sort of thrown on. And there was a 45 rpm record player and some records, piled on the floor. It was Johnny's room. The "real" Johnny.
When I turned to look at Baby she had the most awful expression. Like she expected me to yell at her. Or even worse, tell her what a fool she was. But I smiled at her. And walked to the record player. I knew what would be on it. And when I pushed the play button the first record dropped. And In a few seconds the voice of Otis Redding filled the room.
"Baby, will you trust me?" Slowly, she nodded her head. "Baby, I had the time of my life tonight. With you. It was like, I've been waiting for you. I can't dance. Not really. But tonight, with you, I danced. Something just told me what to do. And this room. I know what it is. But I feel like I've been here before. All I ever did was see it in the movie. I know how you feel Baby. I feel it too."
While I was talking she had been slowly unbuttoning my shirt. And when the record player clicked again and another record dropped I took it off. And a few seconds later the plaintive voice of Solomon Burke was urging us to "cry to him". She said, "Dance with me."
I didn't have to say it, but I did. "Here?"
And we did, for a few moments, in each other's arms. Then she stopped, and I thought she was going to kiss me. But instead, she circled slowly around me, her lips leaving a little trail of fire as they touched here and there. And I felt her hand run softly across my butt. When she moved back in front of me we stared at each other and she put her arms around my neck. But only for a moment, then she raised them straight in the air. Like I knew she would. And she stood quietly as I slowly pulled her shirt loose, lifted it over her body, then her head, and slid it off her arms. And when I put my arms around her I felt her shudder as she pressed her large breasts in the lacey white bra against my chest.
We stood and swayed together, and soon the bra was on the floor, and her amazingly soft and smooth white breasts cushioned the rock hard nipples as they burned their way into my chest. By the time the song ended we were both shaking, whimpering quietly into each other's mouths. We played the records over and over as we kissed softly, tasting each other. And when my hands explored her skin hers did the same to me. And when she tossed her head back as far as it would go I gently kissed up and down the curve of her throat. I could feel her shuddering, shaking in my arms.
And when I lifted her into my arms she pointed to the old mattress on the floor and whispered, "It's never been used." But I was already headed there, only stopping to flip the light switch.
Somehow I knew this had to happen. Not exactly like the movie, but as close as we could do. She was living the scene that had been in her head for so many years, possessing her.
And in the glow of the nightlight we made love. Perhaps tomorrow, in the daylight, it would just seem to be mere lust, but tonight there was no option, it had to be love, pure and true.
For long minutes we just kissed, our lips barely touching at first, then pressing harder, grinding, and her body squirmed against me. And when I wet her lips with my tongue she moaned and parted them. And soon her tongue gently touched mine as it slid between those lips, with the beige iridescent lip gloss.
Gradually I covered her face with little kisses, and when my lips pressed just below her ear and my tongue wet her skin she stretched, shuddered, and moaned, "Oh god, Johnny," with a breathy voice. And her body began to rock against mine.
As I kissed along the side of her throat I stroked her softly, letting my fingertips trail over her smooth skin. She was breathing deeply, her chest heaving and she shifted until my hand could reach one of her beautiful breasts. My fingers made little circles around it closer and closer, until they brushed the tip, already hard and waiting, and when my fingers closed around it she moaned and arched her back to them.
I pushed up on my knees and began kissing slowly down her chest to the other breast, and when I was close she began to pant. And when my lips closed over the hard little nub she moaned, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, godddddddddd. Johnny!" I sucked and licked and kissed and swirled my tongue round and round, my fingertips now tugging, squeezing, twisting on the other nipple. And her body was writhing on the bed and grinding against me as she whimpered and moaned and made the most beautiful sounds.
When I finally slid my hand down from her breast over her flat, hard stomach I heard her breath catch and she shuddered, violently. But then she moved a hand to her side and undid the button and zipper of her skirt. And I slid my hand under it and ran my fingertips along the top of her panties as she made barely audible little cries, over and over. "Oh, oh, oh, oh!"
As I slid my hand down over her panties, between her thighs, I lifted my head from her breast and kissed her again. And I felt her legs spread, welcoming me, as her mouth hungrily devoured mine. Now it was her tongue jabbing between my lips as I stroked her, feeling traces of wetness in the cloth. And soon, her hips began to rock slowly in time with my fingers. Until finally she whispered, "Johnny, I need you."
I hated to break the spell, even for a moment, but I fumbled with my pants and finally kicked them off. And I was about to do the same with my underwear when she whispered, "Please, wait." And when I did she pushed me gently to my back and then raised up on one elbow, looking at me. I was as hard as I've ever been, the huge bulge in my shorts threatening to burst. I saw her eyes lock on it and she sucked in her breath, biting her lip.