Tagged: dance

Far Above the Heads of the Dancing Ladies

  • by jenhandcuffed to the table
  • you know that’s not allowed
  • I’m not a machine
  • now she was all sweet decorum
  • I wish I could sing like that

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Far above the heads of the dancing ladies, the pianist was strapped to his bench, playing what I now recognized as a Chopin etude. He sang along, his voice as striking as his red hair. I wish I could sing like that crazy upside down man, but my talents lie in other areas.

Svetlana stared at the tableau, transfixed. I heard her sigh and reminded myself that even if now she was all sweet decorum she was a very dangerous woman. I led her into the darkened recesses of the warehouse, away from the stage and its peculiar performers.

I didn’t know exactly, or even roughly, where we were, and Svetlana refused to tell me. I frisked her, hoping to find a phone, but all I found under her leotard was her blowgun and a tube of chapstick. My hands lingered on her narrow hips.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to make me horny,” Svetlana purred. “I’m not a machine.” She leaned in for a kiss, her arms still bound behind her back.

You know that’s not allowed,” I said. “You’re my captive.”

“That never stopped you before,” she pouted. “Last time I was handcuffed to the table.”

“That was recreational. Today it’s business.”

 

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Heinrich Began to Get Up

  • by Kentkeep hearing your name
  • “It’s an honour!”
  • Jeepers creepers!
  • all that glitters is gold
  • danced on the ceiling

Tune in next time part 65                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Heinrich began to get up off the floor, but in a flash Svetlana leapt on him, wrapping her legs around his neck. His face purpled instantly from the pressure. Meanwhile, Aphrodite still had a mouthful of toxic sea life keeping her from breathing.

I picked up the pistol from where Aphrodite had dropped it. My sense of fair play gave me conflicting impulses, dual ways of balancing the outcomes for these three villains. I could probably save both Heinrich and Aphrodite by subduing Svetlana, or I could wait another few minutes until the pirates expired and then polish off the contortionist.

I knew no one here deserved mercy or salvation, but I knew also that I’d be forever haunted by evil dreams, the kind where you keep hearing your name echoing from charnel vaults, if I took part in their deaths so callously.

Plucking the jellyfish from Aphrodite’s tongue, I aimed the gun at Svetlana’s head and said, “Off.” I had to cock the hammer to make my point, but she released Heinrich and took a step back. “Heinrich,” I said, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the classic jellyfish-sting antidote? She needs it quick, at the site of the injury.” He gulped, massaging his throat, and nodded. “Then she’ll probably need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” I added with a smirk.

“It’s an honour!” he said chokingly, with an unexpectedly British inflection. Sliding up alongside his wife’s head, he began undoing his belt.

Jeepers creepers!” Svetlana cried. I held the gun on her and made her watch the lifesaving treatment for a few minutes before chivvying her out the warehouse’s enormous front door. I swung it shut again, then ordered Svetlana to shift some nearby oil drums to block it. Meanwhile I located some discarded electrical wiring, which I used to bind her wrists when she was done with her assignment. Her face was ashen, her eyes unfocused. Some things cannot be unseen.

“Steady now,” I said. “Like they say, all that glitters is gold. What you just learned is, not all that’s gold glitters. And some of it smells pretty rank.” She looked on the verge of fainting.

I surveyed our surroundings. All the nearby buildings were indistinguishable from the one we’d just left. Hot sun blazed down on us. I directed Svetlana across the alleyway to the next massive building and pulled its door open.

Guiding her inside, I heard music. The interior mostly lay in darkness, except for a rectangular area at the far end. A bizarre orchard of glowing crystal illuminated that area, with a grand piano suspended upside down far above. I nudged Svetlana with the gun and we slowly moved toward what I realized were inverted chandeliers, mesmerized by the sumptuous shimmering gowns worn by a trio of ladies as they danced on the ceiling that had been created for them.

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First an Ocean Swim

  • by jengross little brine-loogies
  • despite the morning’s embarrassment
  • wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes
  • breathless from her bootyshaking
  • many strange and fanciful masks

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First an ocean swim while chained to cinderblocks, then a ride on a child’s bicycle, and now running up stairs, I thought as I took the steps two at a time, heaving for breath and coughing up gross little brine-loogies. It’s like some sort of triathlon of the absurd.

Two floors below I heard John enter the stairwell, and despite the morning’s embarrassment that led to this evening’s murder attempts I was glad to have him around. Even wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes saturated with seawater he was an intimidating guy, and I thought that the two of us working together might be able to defeat Tessa. If we got really lucky. And if John didn’t betray me again.

I got to the fifth floor and pushed through the fire door into some sort of rave. A gorgeous woman in silver body paint stood on stage, breathless from her bootyshaking, and the people in the crowd wore many strange and fanciful masks. I pushed through the throng, John hot on my heels, looking for Tessa. She had to be here somewhere. The secret compartment that was her ultimate goal was hidden under the floor.

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Aureliano is Really Quite Masculine

  • by jenalthough his solid chin is clear of any hair
  • with a canine-skin collar
  • “Big Apple” cufflinks
  • dark blue eyes and a beautiful belly
  • overruled by Judge Maurice

Aureliano is really quite masculine, although his solid chin is clear of any hair, his chest as well. He has dark blue eyes, and a beautiful bellybutton rests in the center of his rock-hard abs. Dancing at my bachelorette party with a canine-skin collar around his thick, manly neck, and absolutely nothing else on but Chippendales style faux-cuffs decorated with “Big Apple” cufflinks, he is the very definition of virility.

“What the heck,” I say to myself, “I’m not married yet!”

I throw caution and my clothes to the wind and smile enticingly at Aureliano. He smiles back, but our tryst is overruled by Judge Maurice, which is what Aureliano calls his penis, which refuses to cooperate, if you know what I mean.

I tip him well anyway, to ensure he doesn’t mention this to my fiancé Dirk tomorrow when Aureliano stands beside him as best man at our wedding.

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Chauncey Knew

  • by jena great deal of reviewing
  • He got down with raised eyebrows.
  • she did not respond to him in a favorable way
  • for no special reason
  • proximity to money and power

Chauncey knew the way to win Myrtle’s heart was by winning the dance-off at the senior prom. After a great deal of reviewing how-to videos on YouTube and practicing in front of the mirror, he was ready. Chauncey’s rental tuxedo was a stunning combination of white and gold that some people inexplicably saw as blue and black. At the country club he stood in line with all of the other hopefuls. The music started. He got down with raised eyebrows. Despite his sick dance moves and the soulful expressions he threw at Myrtle, she did not respond to him in a favorable way. Neither did the judges. They awarded the trophy to Mike Phillips for no special reason that Chauncey could see, except for the fact that Mike Phillips’s mother was a senator and the judges were all blinded by his proximity to money and power. But not Myrtle. She left the prom the way she arrived, surrounded by a group of indifferent girls dressed all in black.

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I Hated Working At The Strip Club

  • by jeneye contact during a fingerbang
  • those nicknames were always for in-family use only
  • The adventure of the Devil’s Thumb
  • the most hackneyed of subjects
  • hoping for a glimpse of the glamorous chorus girls
  • seemed to be by no means diminished
  • zoo for endangered species

I hated working at the strip club. I know that’s just about the most hackneyed of subjects imaginable. Sorry. I never would have started dancing there if I hadn’t needed the money so bad. The front row was always full of guys drooling like poachers at a zoo for endangered species. How much nicer if they’d act like society gentlemen merely hoping for a glimpse of the glamorous chorus girls they’d heard so much about. There were never any gentlemen at the Devil’s Thumb, though, just drunks and frat bros who expected you to maintain eye contact during a fingerbang in the private room for a lousy tip.

The adventure of the Devil’s Thumb was in never knowing when the place would get raided, but the clientele’s libidos seemed to be by no means diminished by threat of arrest.

One night I was on the pole and I heard someone shout, “Hey Boo Boo, check out the tits on Skeeter!” and I knew I was in for it. Those nicknames were always for in-family use only, which meant that a couple of my cousins had just figured out where I was working, and in no time my whole family would know. Damn you, Boo Boo!

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Arnold Gazed in Dismay

  • by jenthe vulgar world of newspaperdom
  • did not suggest a tightly packed foundation
  • my island, my mountain, my land
  • whatever portion of the anatomy
  • it’ll swallow the house
  • roller coasters, whorehouses
  • “Oho. Deranged am I?
  • don’t like being put in such a position

Arnold gazed in dismay at the stripper. Whatever portion of the anatomy she chose to display, it did not suggest a tightly packed foundation.

“Her ass is so big it’ll swallow the house,” he complained to his pal Ricky.

“I like it,” Ricky replied.

“You’re deranged.”

“Oho. Deranged am I? Well at least I’ll get laid tonight. Nothing pleases you, Arnold. Not roller coasters, whorehouses, or foot massages. This is my island, my mountain, my land, and you’re making me feel like an inadequate host. I don’t like being put in such a position and so I shall banish you back to the vulgar world of newspaperdom from whence you  came!”

“Whence?” complained Arnold. “Who uses that word anymore?”

 

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Felix is Plotting a Rampage

  • by jenthe plight of the American stockbroker
  • with a long-lost sister
  • dancing the wicked flamenco
  • are they being worn by non-members?
  • he will not hesitate to shoot you, whether you voted for him or not

Felix is plotting a rampage at the school’s Homecoming dance. He’s in the running for Homecoming King, but don’t assume you’re safe if he wins. He’s so disgruntled he will will not hesitate to shoot you, whether you voted for him or not. So go ahead and vote for whoever you think is cutest, or whatever the criteria are for the position.

You may well ask why Felix is so bent on dancing the wicked flamenco of destruction. He told me he is concerned for the plight of the American stockbroker. I think he was being facetious.

My theory involves Felix’s recent meeting with a long-lost sister in which she expressed her horror at the thought of outsiders wearing country club jackets to the dance. Have you heard anything about this? Are they being worn by non-members? And if so, is that a call to arms?

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“No, no, no, no, no, Chico!”

  • by jenhe was like a cat pouncing
  • immobility his eyebrow moved
  • noticed the colour of your dressing gown
  • rather the Latin temperament
  • Not even a compromising bequest!
  • a most awkward mistake
  • They die, yes

“No, no, no, no, no, Chico!” screamed Thelonious Tharp, and Chico Desideria knew that once again he had made a most awkward mistake. Chico both admired and despised his choreographer and mentor, Thelonious. Admired him for the way that when he danced he was like a cat pouncing, despised him because he possessed rather the Latin temperament and made no move to disguise it.

Chico knew what mistake he’d made this time. He was supposed to prance and cavort, leap awkwardly in time to the arrhythmic music, and then freeze. But despite his required immobility his eyebrow moved. Thelonious was livid, as usual.

“Chico, today when you left the dressing room I noticed the colour of your dressing gown had changed and I hoped that your attitude had changed along with your sartorial choices. I was wrong! You are as useless as ever! And you know, don’t you Chico, what the parents of one as unimpressive as you do? They die, yes, die! Of shame! And they leave nothing to their disappointing offspring, Chico. Not even a compromising bequest!

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No Farmworker Would Have Dreamed

  • by jenthe rest of his orchestrated performance
  • moving in slow, sensuous circles
  • playing vixenish games
  • You dolt! You’re freezing!
  • mock anger crystallized into the real thing
  • he heard a very feminine “oo-oh!”
  • no farmworker would have dreamed

No farmworker would have dreamed that one of their own kind would have success in the high class world of cruise ship performers, but here Bubba was, standing in the wings, wearing his elaborately spangled costume, waiting to make his high-seas dance debut. He heard a very feminine “oo-oh!”, his cue to take the stage and begin moving in slow, sensuous circles with the other dancers around the female singer. The air conditioning was turned up full blast to cope with the heat generated by so many bodies exerting themselves, dancing and singing on stage, playing vixenish games backstage.

Finally it was Bubba’s moment to shine. The singer was singing her angry song, telling all the men how worthless they were. Bubba swooped in, just like they’d rehearsed it, and swept her high into the air above his head. But in that instant the singer’s mock anger crystallized into the real thing.

You dolt! You’re freezing!” she hissed to Bubba.

After that Bubba found it difficult to go on with the rest of his orchestrated performance, but he remembered the other farmworkers who looked up to him, and that gave him the strength he needed to go on.

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