The girl walked alone into the crowded nightclub. She was young,
perhaps only twenty years old. Her eyes were old, and she gazed around
the bar with an unreadable expression. She was attractive, by anyone's
standards, slight and lithe in her short black dress, which clung
tantalizingly to her body, enhancing what it touched. Men smiled
hopefully in her direction, but both their smiles and their gazes slid
off her as she walked on by, ignoring them.
The crowd was young tonight, but well dressed. There would be little in
the way of the mindless rave that some clubs played- more likely
mainstream dance. That suited her fine. She had been practicing. The
Belfast nightclubs had that familiar feel to them, the sense of being
home. That would help, tonight. The girl hadn't been to this particular
club in some time. She had been to others, of course, but it felt nice
to return here. The crowd was full of almost strangers, the faces that
one can never place. She sought faces out, nodded at the ones she knew
well, smiled mysteriously at the ones she knew a little less. She was
taking bearings, sizing the crowd up.
She ordered a drink, her voice soft but clear. She exchanged money with
the barman, and took the glass in her hand, holding it as if it was
just another accessory. She sipped from the glass, savoring the sour
tang of the vodka and tonic, and smiling gently at the way it glowed in
the ultraviolet light. She drifted like a rumor through the nightclub,
until she found her place.
The low light of the dance floor silhouetted her face as she watched
the dance floor. The pulse of the music was like a heartbeat, and could
not be ignored. She felt each beat deep within, as if that heartbeat
was inside her. It made her blood race, and her breath quicken. Her
foot tapped out the beat of the music, and she desired more than
anything to get up and dance, to show them how to really dance.
Strobe lights flickered for a moment, the illusion freezing the motion
of the heaving mass of people of the floor. The dance remix of a recent
hit began, slower than the previous music. The dancer knew that it was
her turn.
She stood gracefully, and walked like a catwalk model into the center
of the dance floor. Though she was surrounded by dozens of people, she
felt alone- solo.
The girl began to move. Slowly, at first, as if she were a tap opening,
letting the movement out gradually, increasing the flow steadily. Her
body was a precision instrument, interpreting the music, the rhythm and
the emotion in the song.
She let her eyes close, the pleasure of movement filling her
completely. It was a sexual energy, but one which required no other
partner than the music. The rhythm touched her more tenderly than a
lover ever could. The beat, as it began to quicken, became more and
more passionate, and she moved herself around the floor, the embrace of
the song guiding her.
The girl remembered her past lovers, the men who fumbled with her,
treating her body like a machine- press the right button, get the right
response. She felt sorry for them. They really had no idea. It was
their loss. Those men never understood how a woman worked, what a woman
needed. They did not know how best to touch and caress, or how to use
words instead of hands.
Most of all, they didn't know how to listen, or ask. They would never
earn the reward of knowing that they gave real pleasure. Most of her
lovers, however, wouldn't have cared either way, selfish in their
loving, more interested in their own completion, at any cost. That was
the reason they found her dancing so intimidating. She was taking
pleasure. She was responsible for her own satisfaction in a way that
men were so unused to in a woman, yet did themselves, all the
time.
More than one man watched her now. She was completely aware of her
body, her every muscle and feeling. To them she seemed defiant, in
touch with her sexuality. It was arousing to watch, and so very rare.
In the midst of the hip-swinging, foot-tapping throng, she seemed like
a flower, a goddess. Her uniqueness was her beauty, her selfish
sensuality. She took pleasure alone, and needed no other, while she
could dance.
The song built up to a climax- so did she. Her movements became wilder,
yet utterly controlled, in that only a true dancer can muster. Her
mouth opened slightly, her lips moist, and every man who watched her
fell in love. She turned the climax of the song into an orgasm of
dance, and when the lights fell with the music, so did she.
People clapped, and shook their heads, but she stood, and walked off
the dance floor wearing a slight smile. She could still hear the rush
of her blood, and the glow of pleasure that the dance left her with.
The adrenaline that filled her veins made her want to run, to dance, to
leap. It took all her will to walk calmly and serenely- she felt like
she was trying to hold back the oceans from crashing on the
shore.
She walked back to the bar, and noted with dry amusement how the men
now looked at her. She caught the gaze of one man, sitting with his
girlfriend. He had been watching her on the dance floor. He looked away
after a few moments, troubled by her strength, ashamed at his thoughts.
He, like the others, had probably never seen a woman truly dancing
before. They might never again, but for now, she was satisfied. She
walked out of the nightclub, and into the arms of the city.
