TEL AVIV Lovemaking 101

Tel Aviv Lovemaking 101 A piece written for my second book...Thanks to Tel Aviv A friend…a dear friend, who immigrated five years ago from Mexico City to Tel Aviv asked me to join him late one night for a drink in the old city of Jaffa. Way past my usual Pacific coast bedtime, I showered, dressed up; very scantily clad in a tight, hot red Moschino dress and Manolo Blahnik black high heels, then made my way to the front door of my boutique hotel. He met me, gave me a warm kiss on my cheek as the hour turned from p.m. to a.m. when this city wakes up and comes alive. We walked arm in arm down the winding, narrow cobblestone Jaffa streets until we could hear the sensual sound of Capricho Arabe, a Spanish piece performed once upon a time by the infamous Andres Segovia resonating through an open window high above us. “It’s up there he gestured with his hand, we will drink a good glass of red wine, perhaps two or three glasses, dance and then dance some more," he chided me. A bit tenuous, but knowing he knew the city well, I followed him up the steep, dimly lit staircase. Never could I have imagined what I was walking into unless I witnessed it with my own eyes. At the top of the staircase, an oversized set of double etched glass doors opened up to the most stunning rooftop garden I’ve ever seen. Sweeping views of the old Port of Jaffa, the dark, gentle expansive sea below, the modern skyscrapers in the urban downtown city of Tel Aviv far off in the distance, a three hundred and sixty degree view, at each turn provided a completely different picture. The moon above us shining in full glory, the beautiful patio furniture all dressed in white linen, full-sized orange trees potted in massive stone carved urns flanking every single sofa and dining table. The crisp white table cloths were topped with soft green linen square overlays, a perfect grounding for dozens of flickering votives that added to the ambiance of this incredible resto/supper/dance club. On one side of the patio, a bar was set up, brightly lit, all glass and shiny, with extraordinarily handsome looking bartenders all busy showing off their mixology skills. In the center of this rooftop was a very intricate mosaic tiled dance floor. I noticed there was a dance floor kitty-corner to the bar. There was a small very inconspicuous stage where a Spanish classical guitarist, a piano player, and a sax musician and percussionist were creating lyrical magic. George Bernard Shaw was quoted to say that “Dancing is a perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire”. As I perused the dance floor, that quote made perfect sense to me now. Everyone was beautifully dressed, long gone are the days of vintage boho or utility in fashion here, replaced by edgy, fashion-forward silhouettes in rich fabrics paying homage to detail. Couples were dancing with such rhythmic expression that it was hard to discern if they were two bodies entwined or two so connected that they had morphed into one entity. Oozing sensuality, almost like watching two people make love, exposed for all to see, so intimate the way they embraced one another, pressed up against each of their toned, muscular bodies, slowly swaying and moving in tandem to the music that I felt like a voyeur at first. Each movement was sultry, hips moving in a motion that resembled erotic controlled sexual desire. The music stopped yet the couples on the dance floor were osculating, no longer moving, instead of standing perfectly still lip locked and exuding passion as they softly kissed. When the musicians resumed playing, like on cue, the couples once again pressed against one another, grinding hips and I wondered if this was a metaphorical expression of lovemaking, building as the music played on. As I sipped my glass of cabernet, I could feel my insides warm and my body loosens up. A novice latin dancer at best, bravely I walked onto the dance floor. With a hand tightly secured around my waist, I relented and fell against the strong, tall frame of my partner. Closing my eyes, forcing myself to just let go, I began moving in conjunction with him. He twirled me, brought me back firmly holding onto my small frame and then moved me across the floor with grace, precision, and expertise. Despite my platonic feelings for my dear, exceedingly handsome friend, I could now understand how dancing like this is the closest thing to vertically making mad, passionate, explosive love like Shaw suggested. So for this incredible city, sexy, sophisticated, made up of so many cultures, the best of food, fashion, technology and so much more, connectivity begins on the dance floor when the street lights come on way after dark. For some, it ends on the dance floor, but if you are lucky enough to have a true, loving and special dance partner, then lovemaking begins on the dance floor and ends the morning after or perhaps the afternoon after when you’ve taken the metaphorical to explore and expand to a physical expression……Some call it ecstasy…I call it Lovemaking 101 in Tel Aviv. Remarkable city! Image may contain: sky, outdoor, water and nature