Crossroads of Desire by Amos Hatter — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CROSSROADS OF DESIRE In her dressing room a few moments later Connie began removing her clothes. But her mind was still on Larry Brooks. She too was from the mid-west. Overland, Missouri, to be exact. Like Larry, she had arrived in the Big Town a little over two years ago. Things hadn’t been easy in the beginning. She had answered chorus calls, danced in honky-tonks and for one bitter month had worked as a salesgirl in a lingerie shop. Connie knew the heartbreak and disillusionment of Broadway. But the similarity of her experience to Larry’s ended there, For she also knew success. A success far more spectacular than she had ever thought possible. What a pity he hadn’t succeeded, too. Maybe she could do something about that. ; Connie’s first appearance of the evening featured her in a fast moving, modern dance. She was on again in a classical number wearing a short ballet skirt. The audience gave her a thunderous ovation both times as if urging the show on to the long awaited climax. For the main number Connie got into a skin-tight costume that covered her gorgeous curves as if applied with an air brush. She applied make-up to her face with meticulous care, made a final check of her toe shoes and the ribbons lacing her ankles. Even the supporting cast felt a ripple of excitement as she joined them in the wings. Quickly now the ballerinas assumed their positions, waddling with the peculiar gait of all feminine dancers. Connie stood poised awaiting the lifting of the curtain and the cue from the orchestra conductor in the pit. The music began. The lights were dimmed. Connie leaped onto the stage and the dance began. What the audience beheld from their side of the footlights was a thing of rare beauty and grace. The dancers moved with a poetry of motion that blended with the music, And Connie, featured in the spotlight, danced as if inspired with eternal youth. Suddenly her male partner appeared from center stage in his erotesque’guise of a satyr and the main action began. The other dancers disappeared until only the nymph and the satyr remained. The tempo of the dancing increased as Connie fled back and forth with the satyr hot on her heels. Now she was caught. The satyr flung her to his shoulder, 14 CROSSROADS OF DESIRE over and around until sheer motion was created for the open mouthed patrons. The nymph was indeed in a bad way by now and the satyr grinned. But wait! The frail creature that was about to fall into his power turned on the satyr. The surprised satyr stepped back. There followed such a chase as to make the first one look silly. The music swelled to a deafening crescendo as Connie pulled her quarry down and placed one foot triumphantly upon him. Biavos, whistles and cheers created a terrific din as the curtain descended, The audience was on its feet, yelling and applauding. Connie and her partner arose panting like a couple of over-taxed steam engines. They tcok three bows, appearing to the audience as if they were fresh as daisies. Actually they were both perspiring freely and anxious to be rid of each other. Connie was still breathing heavily when she reached her dressing room, She was pulling on a kimona when Philip burst in. “You were a sensation tonight, Connie!” he exclaimed, his eyes sweeping over her with reverent adulation. “It was out of this world!” ; d “Shut up and give me a cigarette,” she said petwlantly. She didn’t like him to barge in on her with such a proprietory air. “Flere you are,” he said whipping out a gold cigarette case and holding a lighter for her. Her eyes brushed him disdainfully, then lowered to the flame. She took a deep drag, pulled her kimona around her and sat down for a moment’s rest. A cloud of blue smoke from her lungs filled the air. “What prompted such a magnificent performance tonight?” he asked. , “Maybe it’s the lousy weather,” she said, not looking at him. Philip stared at her in confusion. Presently his eyes bright- ened. “Robbin Walker, that salesman who detained me this afternoon, came to the theater tonight with a friend. I saw them during an intermission, He’s invited us to be his guests at the Copa for supper.” “T told you earlier that I wanted to go to O’Brien’s.” “Look, Connie. I made some inquiry about that place. It’s nothing but a dump. Why on earth do you want to go there?” She turned her head and regarded him evenly. “I just do.” “But somebody must have given you a bum steer. The food 15 Comicbooksicom