BEAUTIFUL VISION

I was about to leave the bar when the waitress returned to ask if I needed another drink. I hesitated like I always hesitate when an attractive woman asks me if I need anything. I said no thanks. I was putting on my jacket when I heard the loud slick voice of the deejay booming through the thick smoke.

"Gentlemen, please give a warm round of applause to our next dancer HONEY TUPELO!"

I couldn't believe my ears. When I heard first few notes of Brown-eyed Girl I knew this was going to be something special. I have never seen a stripper dance to a Van Morrison song before. She came out hot and heavy, purposefully striding over the stage. She wore tight denim shorts, a white tank top, a black leather jacket, and who knows what delicacies underneath. Her red hair shimmered like silk and sexily like a Sam Cooke song with the lights way down low. I could see that her eyes were in fact green. The waitress returned and asked me if I changed my mind. Most definitely.

By the end of the song she had flung off her jacket and tank top and shorts. Her lacey bra and panties were also green. The colour accentuated the freckles on her arms and chest. The next number was another Van song, Into the Mystic. She undulated slowly over the stage like a ballerina, a beautiful vision, an angel of the first degree...

I quickly gulped my drink and ordered another one. I knew what the next song would be. It was of course Tupelo Honey...The third song in an exotic dancer's repertoire is always the show-stopper, the blanket dance. Honey Tupelo's last number was the party piece to end all party pieces. She writhed, and twirled and stalked the stage stopping only to stretch her body and muss up her hair. She had a very naughty sexy smile. She looked like she just had sex and was getting out of bed. The whole bar was mesmerized. Even the pool players were leaning on their cues. The businessmen stopped discussing their portfolios.

At the end of the song she gathered up her clothes and blanket and stepped down from the stage. To get backstage she had to walk by my table. I caught her eye and motioned her to sit down with me. She started putting her clothes back on as we talked, her bra and panties at least.

"You must be a Van Morrison fan." I said by way of introduction.

"I think he is God." She replied. Again I was amazed. I had just broken up with my girlfriend because I could no longer live the fact she didn't like Van Morrison. Marilyn must be the most beautiful woman I had ever dated in my life. A long-haired Plains Cree Indian from Saskatchewan with high cheek bones and piercing eyes, an uber-babe. But our tastes in art and music were too disparaging. Whereas she like Michael Boltan and Rod Stewart I was into Van, and Rickie Lee Jones and Tom Waits. She liked romantic comedies and I liked Mel Gibson action flicks. She was a 486 and I am a Pentium processor MMX. Finally, when she told me she "didn't dis-like" Van I knew it was time to part ways. I have never been able to remain in a relationship when my partner doesn't share the same affection for Van's music as I do. Maybe not on the same scale as I do...

The stripper asked if I could buy her a drink. We sipped our drinks, discussed Van, the exotic dancing business, and made appreciative comments on the next couple of dancers. Finally, I told her about an upcoming concert date in Vancouver with Van, Dylan, and Joni. May 14th. She said she would be working in that town that week. I asked her if she could take the night off. But of course. She makes her own hours.

We made plans to meet in Vancouver for the concert. I decided then and there that I was going come hell or high water and I would do absolutely anything to get there.