Here’s another one for Ficly about a dancer. Yes, THAT kind of dancer.
It was uncomfortable watching her dance, that sleazy smile plastered over her face hiding the fear and shame in her eyes. You could watch for hours and never see her shiver.
I sat and stared at my glass, the light from the wine leaving a pale yellow shadow on the white tablecloth below, flickering in synchronicity with the candle. The lambent glow of the flame played across the empty bread basket in front of me, like a confused bird.
Caught in the spotlight, like the iron sights of a gun, she swiveled and shook and flipped and rolled. Maybe she saw me once or twice. Can’t tell. To her, the world must have ended at the boundaries of the stage, the incredible light blinding her. They cheered for her, and I cringed.
Over at the counter across the room, the bartender leaned forward on his elbows and held his head as he watched in awe. Her smooth, perfect skin teased the audience, and for a moment, everything seemed to be floating. I threw two bucks on the table and turned to look at the door.
Originally on Ficly.com: http://ficly.com/stories/15733
-Adam
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