Dancer

By David R Castro

“What is love?” I ask as the song plays. Baby don’t hurt me. The song plays but I’m only barely listening to it. I was consumed by watching her. She danced, spinning and winding her body to the ‘90’s song, the flashing lights making her skin pearlescent. She sees me watching, just like she sees at least half a dozen other men and half as many women watching her. She’s the center of attention for a small world of suitors, and she’s eating up the attention like the sweetest ambrosia.

I sip my beer and undo the topmost button of my shirt. The room is perfectly air conditioned, but still I’m growing warmer. My friends are talking, or at least trying to over the loud music and thumping bass, but they are of little consequence. She is all I am paying attention to. When there is a lioness around, one cares little for sheep.

I rise, removing my jacket and leaving it behind. She turns again, and locks eyes with me. My heart races as I near. The song has changed. Everybody sing, everybody dance, lose yourself in wild romance. She doesn’t wait for me to get to her. She takes three steps to close the distance, hips swaying in time with Richie’s beat. She spins, her raven hair just barely missing my nose, and presses her back against me, all but making my hips follow hers.

All night long, all night… It feels it, as time slows, she wraps my arms around her and sways to the music, but I know she’s looking at the others. She’s mine, but only for the briefest moment, and soon I will be thrown away like chaff from wheat. The DJ is fickle, and she turns as the song changes again.

Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree? She slithers up my, standing on tip toes to bring her lips to my ear, and she blows into it. She takes it into her teeth and slowly goes down to her feet, dragging me with her. I groan. Some of them want to use you, some of them want to be used by you. Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused. She lets me go and laughs, the sound audible to be just barely but lost to the cacophony, and she pushes me away.

She walks away from me, to a blonde woman I didn’t even see there before. Suddenly the song shifts, from Eurthymics to Manson. Screams fill my ears as the flashing lights go from blues to reds. Some of them want to use you! Some of them want to be used by you. Some of them want to abuse you! She slides behind this competitor. Marilyn’s rough whisper grates against my soul. Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree? Travel the world and the seven seas, everybody’s looking for something. Some of them… I step towards them, as my prize locks lips with the other woman, all but mounting her. I can feel my blood rushing, my pulse racing. She turns, locks eyes with me again, and I stop cold. there is something there, something glacial. I can’t breathe.

The song changes again, and though the beat is a lot easier than the song before, but the words are almost as cold as her gaze, the look she’s giving me over the blonde’s shoulder, watching me as my replacement makes a meal of her long neck.Watching and waiting, oh she’s sitting with you, but her eyes are on the door. She doesn’t break eye contact with me as she slides her hands down the back of the blonde’s dress, her black claws digging into the shimmering robin’s egg skirt. Many have paid to see what you think you’re getting for free. The blonde bites her neck. If you’re in it for love, you aint get too far. A slow smile curls her sanguine lips and her eyes heat up. She whispers something into the blonde’s ear and she stumbles. The goddess of this dance floor takes a sidestep and leaves the blonde blinking in her wake, stalking back to me. Oh, here she comes, watch out boy, she’s chew you up. Oh, here she comes, she’s a maneater.

She circles me this time, watching me with a hunger that was almost bloodthirst. I wouldn’t if I were you, I know what she can do. She’s deadly man, she could really rip your world apart. She reaches a hand to my collar. her nails are sharper than they needed to be and slightly cut into my skin as she drags them around me. The song changes again, from ‘80’s pop to ‘90’s R&B. She leans up to me and blows again into my ear.

“If you want me, take me.”

My mind is telling me no, but my body is telling me yes.I know what she is, a siren, a vampire who feeds on the arousal of others, but at the same time, I can’t pull myself away. As she leans her back once more onto my chest, her hips into mine, all my will melts away. I don’t see nothing wrong, with a little bump ‘n grind. I move with her, knowing that this is as much for her as for everyone else watching her. She wants us to fight over her, and I try to put a look into my face to warn off all comers. I don’t know if it worked, and soon I don’t care. I have her. I barely even noticed the song change, and grow in tempo.

She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen. She went low, dragging her ass up my front slow. Knocking me out with those American thighs. She turned, and kissed me, hard, forcing herself into my mouth. Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air. Suddening she was pushing me with a strength that belied her size, and I found myself against a wall in a moment. …The walls were shaking, the earth was shaking, my mind was aching… Her hands were everywhere, as if she had more than she should, and I lost myself in the moment. And then, she was gone.

I looked around, the dancefloor was filled and I couldn’t see her anywhere. I tried to get through the crush but there was too many bodies, too many for me to move there and far too many for her to had gotten through that swiftly, but I can’t find her anywhere. I find my way back to my seat and collapse into it. My friends hoot and holler, as if what happened was some sort of conquest, but it wasn’t. It was me being destroyed, consumed and processed. I know I have no more chance, but I still scan the myriad faces of the crowd. I eventually find her as the music slows again, one last song before the lights come on and the night ends.

You don’t look at their faces, and you don’t ask for their names. She’s dancing for herself now, alone, in the middle of the dance floor all but away from most of the prying eyes, from all but mine anyway. You don’t think of them as human, you don’t think about them at all. She spins slowly, rocking side to side, and looks up, at me, and then away. Keeping your eyes on the wall. She turns her back to me, and writhes in a way that I think is supposed to be alluring. I’m your private dancer…. But really isn’t, least not for me, not now. I do what you want me to do. She turns to back to me, and I see that she registers my displeasure and she visibly sags. And any old music will do.

I leave both her and my friends behind, and plug myself into my mp3 player, the silence is too silent for me. My thoughts race as I take the train home, the car mostly empty. I’ve been alone with you in my mind, and in my thoughts I’ve kissed your lips a thousand times. I close my eyes and see the night play out again, but differently. That we dance the whole night, that we lose each other in the crowd like we did, but find each other once more. Hello! Is it me you’re looking for?  That we slow dance, not sexually, but sensually, and that she’s with me here as we travel home. Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven’t got a clue, but let me start by saying I love you.

David is a co-founder and editor of Babbling of the Irrational and an aspiring writer from NYC. You can interact with David on Twitter and by email at dcastroboti@gmail.com

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