Chapter 11: Performance in Lyon

The inquiry into the dubious selection process for the modern dance performance proves to be a storm in a tea cup. For a century or more, the infamous casting-couch has been a well trodden route to being selected at auditions. The academy doesn’t officially approve of staff or students trading sex for favours, but it certainly turns a blind-eye to the practise. Getting caught offering sex to selectors is never punished beyond tarnishing the dancer’s reputation. However, the knock-on effect of the recent incident divides the students into those willing to use sex for advancement, and those who refuse to do so. Fortunately, with only two of us studying oriental dance, there is little reason for Yvonne and I to engage is such practises.

The days leading up to the academy’s show in Lyon are hectic. Aaliyah has me practise more passionate and evocative moves in my dancing. Until now, I always remained on my feet while I perform. Now I include kneeling or lying on the floor as part of the dance routine. Finally Aaliyah seems satisfied that my performance is satisfactory for the show.

On the afternoon of the show, a twenty-seater bus collects the twelve of us who are performing, along with four of the staff assigned to supervise and assist us. Since it is weekend, additional helpers from among the school kids the academy employs part-time will meet us at the venue to help with our costumes. We arrive at the venue a couple of hours before the show is due to begin. It’s a larger theatre than the one at the château, capable of seating about two hundred people. The changing facilities are small but adequate. A sixteen year old schoolgirl called Annalise is assigned to help me with my costume. She’s fascinated by my costume, in particular the jewellery and the belt of tassels that fasten to my top. Her enthusiasm is infectious and it puts me in the right frame of mind for my performance.

I’ll be the fourth act on tonight’s programme, dancing to two pieces of music. The first dance will be a more formal dance suitable for ceremonies, while my second dance is a more casual entertainment. Before I left the château, Aaliyah cautioned me against making the second dance too explicit. Tonight’s performance is designed to attract future students rather than titillate the audience.

Things go off-track before the show begins. The newly installed audio equipment at the venue is incapable of playing the tapes of music the academy uses for public performances. For the other dance disciplines the problem is easily solved. The library of licensed music held by theatre for public performances can provide the same music or a suitable alternative. For my act, however, the library has no classical Egyptian dance music. A helpful assistant locates some oriental music he believes may be suitable. With time running out I only have time to listen to part of the track. I don’t have the heart to tell the assistant that the music he’s located is Indian rather than Egyptian or Turkish. In a country where many regard everything east of Greece as the orient, the ethnic difference between the musical instruments and compositions can be difficult to explain. In the circumstances I agree to use the track he’s located. It means my dance will need to be more improvised than usual.

At least Mademoiselle Serena alerts the audience to the problems with the music and that I’ll be dancing to music I’ve not heard before. She even uses the situation to claim that my performance will demonstrate the quality of the training given at the academy. If I didn’t already feel under pressure, her words certainly ensure that I do now.

I launch into my programme. The music has a much faster tempo than I normally use, and the rhythm is more complex. It takes me a few moments to adapt my movements to compliment the music. Before long I start to feel more comfortable with the music, and I add more varied movements to my dance. The idea of doing a formal routine followed by a casual dance must be abandoned as the music simply isn’t suitable for a ceremonial dance. Indeed, the increasing tempo of the music forces me to adapt my casual dance into something more erotic and sensual. I’m careful to keep my movements within the accepted boundaries of propriety. No jiggling my tits or suggestive gestures. The detachable panels of my skirt remain firmly in place. I complete my dance by sinking to my knees and bowing my head in a submissive slave posture. I suspect that most of the audience won’t know what that posture represents, but it feels appropriate in the circumstances. I’m greeted with thunderous applause. It’s only when I stand up that I realise that the auditorium is nearly full. When the applause eventually eases, I stand up, curtsy and leave the stage. The folk dance trio are going to have a hard time following that.