Dancing Goddess

These affairs are always so stiff and formal. White shirt with starched collar, black slacks and jacket and shoes that pinch my toes and make me slide across the floor like a penguin on ice skates threatening my balance and the balance of those around me. This horrible red bow tie is cutting off circulation to my brain. I pricked my finger on the damn pin used to secure this white rose to my lapel. I'm pretty sure the smeared blood on the petals makes me really appealing to the women here. And the women! All the women are dressed to the nines which makes them even more difficult to approach, and here I am tongue-tied as usual. I hate these events. Maybe I'll just have another drink and try to loosen up. 

The lights are low in the room, just dimness and candlelight to guide my way. Tables are scattered around the room skirting the dance floor. I make my way haphazardly to the bar and collapse onto one of the stools. I'm pretty sure I already seem like I've had too much to drink. I ask for a grey goose martini and turn around to watch the graceful women with their equally graceful partners. Swirls of color and heat make me start to sweat. The passion in some of the dancers' movements make me wish I was braver. I finish my drink and leave the fee and tip next to the glass. 

The room is made of oak from the rafters to the walls to the beautiful dance floor and the bar itself. Polished and smooth. But a lot of lodges are like that up here. The french doors adjacent to the bar lead out to a balcony. The mountains of Colorado are backlit by an pink-as-grapefruit sunset and the balcony is deserted. I can almost see the stars blinking through the dimming sky. I take a moment to appreciate the breeze. I look through the doors and glimpse a flourish of vermilion, porcelain and sable. 

My interest piqued, I walk as casually as I can to the entryway. In other words, I trip over my stupid shoes and pray no one has seen me. I hide around the corner and watch as the woman with black curls and fair skin twirls around the dance floor. "She's beautiful," I remark. A whisper meant for only myself.

She sways back and forth, pushing the curls back from her face. She can't be more than twenty-five with long legs visible only because of a long slit running from mid-thigh of her skirt. She's barefoot, I note, with sparking polish on her toes. Her eyes stay shut, but she never runs into anyone or anything. Too graceful for me, I think to myself. Too young, too.  I'm closer to forty than thirty. My hair is thinning and graying, a double shot of old age rearing its ugly head. 

I watch the beautiful goddess move, entranced by her fluidity. I notice that I'm not the only one watching her. Any chance I had is getting slimmer with each eye that turns her direction. Why did I even think of coming to this thing? I knew it would only be torture! I had met Sharon at an event similar to this. I was still the same then as I am now and my fire-ball of a future wife danced with every man that night. Every man but me. My two left feet left me practically disabled while Sharon moved like a ballerina.

This woman reminded me of Sharon, as least in movement. This woman, though, never noticed anyone's attention. She just swayed and twirled to the music, the very melody itself her lover. She dances on tiptoes, arms spread like she's flying. Maybe she is in that beautiful head of hers. She moves with precision and stops dead in the middle of the floor. I notice her eyes are on mine. They are green as spring grass and I am lost in them. 

I realize I have only a moment. A moment to make some sort of move, but my feet are frozen to the floor. I want to tell her how beautiful she is. How bewitched I am. All I can do is slink back to the balcony and lean against the railing. I stare at the sky. I miss Sharon on nights like this one. She understood. I close my eyes for breathe in the piney breeze.

"I'm Jennifer," a soft alto-voiced angel speaks. I open my eyes to see the green-eyed goddess standing before me. 

Author's Note

Reviews

[Brittany]

Bravo! This was so captivating. Your descriptions were great. This was very well told. I enjoyed this very very much.

[Kaela]

Thank you so much for your review. The imagery was what I was hoping would pop in this piece. Glad it did its job.

[Eagle Cruagh]

Why some men drink.
A character sketch of a man approaching
middle age, self conscious and intro-verted,
supported only by the last martini.
He watches as the vision of his ex cavortes
and twirls about the room.... He throws in
his cards , ready to vacate the game when
he is approached by The Goddess.
In our imagination she takes form and our
hero scores.
This is perhaps the best thiing you have written,
not because of the plot, which I find dull, but
because the writing is magical. You have taken
this dull situation, even more passive characters
and transformed them into a classical short story.
Only an inspired, gifted writer can pull this off
'and you did . You have built the character, the
man, into a bumbling, stumbling male, set-up to fall
and then you pulled him out of the trash and made
him into the choice of the Goddess who had her
pick of the room.
Great story, great characters, beautiful construction
and you have accomplished another faite` accompli.
Thank you,
----- John

[Kaela]

This review made my heart swell. This was my first attempt at writing without editing. I am beside myself that you found it so pleasurable. Thank you for the review that made my day! Love and hugs from Oklahoma!

[Dark Matters]

I've been where he is. I've fallen for a stranger from across the room, might as well have been a world away. But she never appeared in front of me as a vision.

Very well done! Your depiction of the gentleman's state of mind, the vision of the young lady's dance, were both superb. Ending the way you did, left me breathless and wanting more.

The desire to pull out my Tuxedo and find such a lady, may yet, have to be quenched.

[Kaela]

I'm glad this was an enjoyable read for you. It certainly as a pleasurable write. I'd been dying to get this on paper all day.