Tracy smiled at the enthusiasm in Jeff’s voice.
“You’re going to see a classic cuadro flamenco. That’s a group of singers, dancers, and guitarists. First they perform together, then each one takes his turn.”
Watching Tracy and Jeff from a table in the corner near the kitchen, Daniel Cooper wondered what they were discussing so intently.
“The dance is very subtle, because everything has to work together—movements, music, costumes, the building of the rhythm…”
“How do you know so much about it?” Tracy asked.
“I used to know a flamenco dancer.”
Naturally, Tracy thought.
The lights in the bodega dimmed, and the small stage was lit by spotlights. Then the magic began. It started slowly. A group of performers casually ascended to the platform. The women wore colorful skirts and blouses, and high combs with flowers banked on their beautiful Andalusian coiffures. The male dancers were dressed in the traditional tight trousers and vests and wore gleaming cordovan-leather half boots. The guitarists strummed a wistful melody, while one of the seated women sang in Spanish.
Yo quería dejar
A mi amante,
Pero antes de que pudiera,
Hacerlo ella me abandonó
Y destrozó mi corazón.
“Do you understand what she’s saying?” Tracy whispered.
“Yes. ‘I wanted to leave my lover, but before I could, he left me and he broke my heart.’”
A dancer moved to the center of the stage. She started with a simple zapateado, a beginning stamping step, gradually pushed faster and faster by the pulsating guitars. The rhythm grew, and the dancing became a form of sensual violence, variations on steps that had been born in gypsy caves a hundred years earlier. As the music mounted in intensity and excitement, moving through the classic figures of the dance, from alegría to fandanguillo to zambra to seguiriya, and as the frantic pace increased, there were shouts of encouragement from the performers at the side of the stage.
Cries of “Olé tu madre,” and “Olé tus santos,” and “Anda, anda,” the traditional jaleos and piropos, or shouts of encouragement, goaded the dancers on to wilder, more frantic rhythms.
When the music and dancing ended abruptly, a silence roared through the bar, and then there was a loud burst of applause.
“She’s marvelous!” Tracy exclaimed.
“Wait,” Jeff told her.
A second woman stepped to the center of the stage. She had a dark, classical Castilian beauty and seemed deeply aloof, completely unaware of the audience. The guitars began to play a bolero, plaintive and low key, an Oriental-sounding canto. A male dancer joined her, and the castanets began to click in a steady, driving beat.
The seated performers joined in with the jaleo, and the handclaps that accompany the flamenco dance, and the rhythmic beat of the palms enhanced the music and dancing, lifting it, building it, until the room began to rock with the echo of the zapateado, the hypnotic beat of the half toe, the heel, and the full sole clacking out an endless variation of tone and rhythmic sensations.
Their bodies moved apart and came together in a growing frenzy of desire, until they were making mad, violent, animal love without ever touching, moving to a wild, passionate climax that had the audience screaming. As the lights blacked out and came on again, the crowd roared, and Tracy found herself screaming with the others. To her embarrassment, she was sexually aroused. She was afraid to meet Jeff’s eyes. The air between them vibrated with tension. Tracy looked down at the table, at his strong, tanned hands, and she could feel them caressing her body, slowly, swiftly, urgently, and she quickly put her hands in her lap to hide their trembling.
They said very little during the ride back to the hotel. At the door to Tracy’s room, she turned and said, “It’s been a—”
Jeff’s lips were on hers, and her arms went around him, and she held him tightly to her.
“Tracy—?”
The word on her lips was yes, and it took the last ounce of her willpower to say, “It’s been a long day, Jeff. I’m a sleepy lady.”
“Oh.”
“I think I’ll just stay in my room tomorrow and rest.”
His voice was level when he answered. “Good idea. I’ll probably do the same.”