Tuesday, July 28, 2009
She danced for me. I had arrived into the middle of the crowded club floor a little while ago and had carefully walked my way backwards through the grayed gyrating bodies to an unpopulated corner. I stood there, listening to the banter of the singer and to his music, waiting for my computer to resolve the textures on the crowdful of strangers one by one. She had materialized just a few feet away from me, her sinuous body clad in the latest skin, the kind that glows and provides a softer focus than that attainable using the latest cosmetics in real life. I adjusted my view so that only she was visible to me and so that I could ignore the madding crowds. She had picked a lovely dance, sensuous but not erotic, and her body flowed with the music as if she were mostly liquid. Her dance periodically brought her right up to me and then moved her farther away. At the closest point in her dance, I could look right into her eyes, her head thrown back, so close that the merest incline of my head would allow me to kiss her. I fought the urge to do just that and instead let her long limbs envelope me before her dance would take her back away from me. Mesmerized, my eyes tracked her movements, following the curve of her lissome leg as it extended out of the slit in her soft black lace skirt. Her shoulders bare, descending to show just the start of the swell of her breasts. I watched the curls of her dark lustrous hair move in unison with her body, alternately hiding and exposing her collarbone. The contour of her shoulder leading to the long throat and then her face. I focused in yet closer on her and imagined my breath follow my focus caressing her as I studied her face. We were alone in my world, she and I, and the music. I studied her. And wordlessly, she danced for me.