This post is in response to a small Writing Challenge from my blog buddy Frank over at A Frank Angle.
Frank has written his first fiction story. It was quite good too. Way to go Frank! Now he has issued a challenge for other bloggers to write alternate endings to his story.
Frank has issued a challenge to develop a new ending: a) after “The music ends” and b) in 75 words or less.
My contribution is in bold after Franks very nice story. Hope you enjoy. If you would like to participate, please head on over to Franks! Thanks!
On The Floor
The music starts – its tempo and rhythms define the dance. He approaches her table, and extends an inviting hand. She accepts. They take to the floor. He offers a hand and a frame. Again, she accepts, but looks away while in hold as if to say, “I’ll dance – but I’m not interested.”
They move to the music’s sharp, fiery rhythms that are intertwined with sensuality. Their eyes continue gazing in opposite directions to avoid a visual connection – yet, their bodies touch.
They dance – they move – sometimes slow – sometimes fast – but always sharp and to rhythm.
He rolls her out – they flick in unison. He tugs to rolls her back into his arms. She shrugs him off by returning to hold with her head turned away. Their steps continue.
He steps back – a lunge – a corté. She steps forward and raises her leg against his, and slowly moves it downward as a caress. He notices – she’s got his attention. As he returns her to upright, their eyes connect through a glimpse – yet each looks away.
The pace seeming hastens. The musical beat remains steady. Their moves remain sharp. Their eyes are starting to communicate to the other through glances.
She leans her body into him and her head is no longer facing away. They lock their eyes for the first time, and her eyes and face speak to him when. She places her head on his chest.
The normally sharp fans are now slow and smooth – yet still to the music’s rhythm. As she turns, his right hand slides naturally along her sleek frame. He notices the curvature of her hips. His head is not as high as he looks toward her with hopes of connecting again.
To him, her face displays desire. Her eyes are closed, but only she knows why. They are now in another place. To him, they are in the midst of passion. To her, she is the seductress who has succumbed to his fantasy.
He responds to the music’s fire with 8 fast steps down the floor. He rolls out as before, but on her return, she is close – and her right hand slowly caresses his face. The music ends.
He holds her close. Slowly their bodies separate till a few inches of cool air circulates between them. Her hand falls to her side as she opens her eyes and stares into his. The passion of the dance lingers between them, throbbing.
Two strangers in the night, their hearts beating fast, their breaths shallow. She takes one last deep breath and turns and walks away.
He watches her with yearning stirring in his blood. Who is this goddess who matched her steps so effortlessly with his? He may never know as she disappears into the crowd.