Saturday, August 8, 2009

Waltzing with the Grim Reaper

It was a grand ball. I was standing in the corner, watching elegant ladies in big fluffy dresses and handsome gentlemen in smart penguin outfits. They were whirling around on the dance floor, apparently having the time of their lives. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing here, I felt nervous and somewhat out of place.
Never in my life had I seen such an elegant mansion, or such a huge ballroom. It was covered from floor to ceiling in black marble. Torches were lit around the room, and the live flames kept the room heated, even though all the dancing already provided plenty of heat.

This was definitely more than just an average party. My past experiences with dances and parties usually involved 20 people crammed into my friend’s smoke filled basement, or hundreds of people milling around in a disco, desperately holding on to their pint of beer while fighting for a spot on the dance floor by waving their arms around as much as possible so that nobody dares to stand close. I had never seen a problem with this sort of behavior, or this sort of dancing, until now. Here it seemed like everyone had their own private spot on the dance floor and there seemed to be plenty of room for others to join in so there was no need to get violent to secure a dance space.
I was watching them all dance, and wished I could dance like that, but I was nervous too.
If anyone were to approach me and ask me to dance, I would have to turn them down.
I didn’t know this dance.

As my eyes wandered around the room, one man in particular caught my attention. He seemed to be very fond of dancing, he had asked virtually every lady in the room for a dance already, and I couldn’t see one drop of sweat on his forehead. Obviously this man had to be in very good shape. He was tall and dark, and I couldn’t get a clear vision of his face, but I knew without a doubt that he would be the most handsome man I had ever seen. His long raven-black hair was flowing down his back like a dark shimmering velvet waterfall. He was draped in a black velvet cape, and underneath it he was wearing a black tuxedo, accompanied by a black silk shirt. He must have noticed me staring at him, because he turned around with a confident, sexy smile on his lips. His eyes were like onyx. They captured me with no intention of letting me go, and as he approached me, I knew that he would teach me this dance, whether I wanted to or not.

“Milady,” he bowed and I didn’t know what I was doing, but found myself curtseying before him. I looped my arm under his and he led me out to the dance floor.
“I don’t know this dance,” I mumbled and concentrated really hard so I wouldn’t step on his toes.
“Nobody does,” he smiled and with a steady hand he twirled me around the dance floor, making me feel like I was a professional dancer. All of a sudden I felt self conscious, and my old jeans and my Black Sabbath t-shirt that I was wearing felt inappropriate for the occasion. He must have read my mind because he pulled me closer and held me in a comforting grip.
“Look at yourself,” he whispered in my ear, and I did, just to find myself draped in a flaming red silk gown. It was a big, beautiful fluffy one, similar to what the other women were wearing.

As he confidently swung me around on the dance floor, I looked around, and to my surprise I recognized several of the ballroom guests. There was my great grandma, whom I had never met before but I recognized her from the picture that was hanging on the living room wall at home. I thought for a second that I spotted James Dean, but that couldn’t be. Why would James Dean and I be at the same party? The dancing must have made me dizzy.

I returned my attention to my dance partner. His eyes were black and shiny, like two smooth marbles under a spotlight. As his fascinating glare intertwined with mine, I didn’t have the willpower to break eye contact, although I realized that I should have done exactly that. His hands held me in a warm, firm grip. Everywhere he touched me, he lit a new flame and I found myself only wanting more. All of a sudden it felt like it was just he and I, all alone on that gigantic ballroom dance floor. From a distance I could hear the violin music playing. He spun me around and around and around on the dance floor, and everyone around me merged together, transforming into a blurry rainbow of dark and abstract colors. I felt like we were riding the fastest merry-go-round in the world.
I could sense his strong body pushing against mine, and I found myself clinging to him, seductively rubbing my own body against his. What was wrong with me?

He had to know that he was deadly attractive. I suspected he got this kind of treatment from every other woman who crossed his path, and I hated to be like everyone else, but something about this man made it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself. I simply couldn’t help it. He was breath taking. He could have his way with me anytime.
My hands were brave now and I started exploring his muscular body. Finally I got to touch his long black hair and it was just as soft as I had imagined. I could hear his soft laughter as he softly planted a kiss on my cheek, leaving me with a soft fuzzy feeling that was spreading like wildfire throughout the rest of my body. I realized that I could burst into flames at any minute, and the cool, marble covered ballroom was a deep contrast to the fire that was raging through my own carcass.

“Open your eyes princess.”
I heard his raspy voice speaking to me, and I opened my eyes again. I was breathing heavy and felt like I was about to explode with passion. I drowned myself in his dark gaze and was waiting for him to bring me back to life with his kiss. His face approached mine. He parted his full lips in a sensual smile and was so close that I could virtually taste him. My lust, want and desire for him were revealed through my staccato breathing and I was aching for his warm mouth to cover mine.
“I usually don’t kiss on the first date,” he whispered. I could feel his warm breath on my lips as he spoke and my quivering body was begging for him to make an exception this time.
He lifted a hand and ran it across my cheek, while smiling his slow sexy smile.
“Until we meet again,” he said.
“How do you know we’ll meet again?” My voice was weak and trembling, just like my knees.
“I will come back for you,” he said with a confident smile and twirled me around for the last time. The music was still playing but he escorted me off the dance floor towards the door.
“Our time for finishing this dance has not yet arrived,” he smiled and kissed my hand before he brushed his fingers across my forehead.
“And please…don’t wait up for me,” he whispered and his black eyes were serious as he gave me a last long look before strutting across the dance floor, heading for another lady who was eagerly awaiting his affection and his dance.

I wasn’t jealous. I knew I wasn’t eager to finish his slow dance or to taste his sweet lips. I would spend time thinking about this dance that nobody could turn down, and I would be preparing for this kiss that he had been so hesitant to offer me, but I would waste no time longing for it, nor waiting for it and with a smile I realized I wasn’t afraid of the dance floor either. There was still a lot of dancing to be done before he showed up again to finish our waltz.