So I decided to write a story that comes almost full-circle from around this time, a year ago. My first story was The Lie on the Lyre, about a mischievous and murderous bard who killed people by entrancing them with the music of a lyre. That motif returns here, but in a different form. Enjoy.
Dancing in the Dark
Word Count: 1896
She was a sight to behold. Radiating pure sexy and every blink of those luscious eyelids drew me in. The surreptitious glances in my direction easily visible, betraying her intentions. Yet a part of me thought that she was giving me those glances on purpose. She was reeling me in with every passing moment, her rod and bait the sex and lust that sunk into the back of my neck, pulling me towards her. I resisted, made her advances difficult to achieve. We were both at a party, you see, and I assume she was there because of a mutual friend that invited us. Or maybe not that at all. With her gorgeous body, she could have just walked in, looked at the host of the party, and continued on her way. There would be no words, nothing. Just the beating hearts of every man in the room moving in tandem, as blood rushed to their nether regions in synchronicity. The large dance room was atmospherically lit, brief patches of light in random spots, that only illuminated so much. Vanilla candles sent a haze around the room that muddled the senses, muddied my sight, and meddled with all perception. So I casually drank from my cup, a strong vodka cranberry, made with fine Russian vodka. The alcohol was slowly getting to me, reddening my cheeks and slowing down my movements. I could see her in the back there, and now her gaze was intent. Her eyes were wild, fiery jewels and inside those jewels wars raged and men died, beset by ferocious tigers, the symbol of her own seductive powers.
I had to stay away from her for just a few minutes longer. I couldn't make her catch me just yet. I had to evade her wiles just a bit longer... so I concentrated on my surroundings. Anything would work to get my mind off her for just a bit longer. The floor was finished oak, and as I walked around, I could feel the earth from which these planks came from. Alright, so maybe letting my mind wander is just going to lead to strange, hippie-like elucidations. I continued to survey the environs, as much as I could when all around were dancing couples, gay and straight, drunk out of their minds or on some sort of drug. Every now and then I could smell a cloud of marijuana float through the air, evanescent in its existence, and off in the corner I had a candid look at a bong being lit up, the chronic cherrying perfectly, small embers glowing somewhat crepuscularly, seemingly entwined within the dim lighting in the rest of the room. When I turned away from that scene, I noticed a mirror off in a corner. I stumbled over to it, accidentally bumping a woman grinding up against another man. I hastily apologized, and after what seemed like ages I found myself in front of it.
The mirror was the length of a person, allowing one to take in the full picture of themself. I seemed almost alien in this reflection. My white button-down shirt covering a stark blue t-shirt, faded jeans held up with an ornate belt, in the middle engraved a snake that curled around itself to bite down on its own tail. The ouroboros, I was told, and it means that life is cyclical; there is no beginning and end for the two exist in tandem, dancing their own waltz eternally. I had lost a lot of weight recently, enough to be able to fit into smaller clothing and I cut a fairly dashing figure in the mirror. My shaggy brown hair perfectly framed my now thin face. I still never felt very good about my look, and probably never would. The price for being too humble, I suppose. As I gazed at myself, as if looking over the edge of an abyss, the abyss inside that scintillating glass, I saw another figure. A man enshrouded in darkness, horns curling upward. Fire issued from where his mouth would have been, and I could see no other features to the man's face. His arms then moved of their own accord, and a small instrument appeared in front of him. It was a lyre, a small harp that had faded out of use over time, even if I had always found it an amusing instrument. The devil began to play, and I was entranced. The music was breathtaking, soothing, relaxing, and mystifying. I almost imagined a small smile played across the demon's lips, but I didn't care. The music began to drown out the noise of the party, becoming singular and overwhelming in its majesty. I could almost hear it speak words, as if singing...
"They called me fairest...
But then I fell.
They said I would find salvation
But God was no savior.
So I laughed in his face, that mighty force
And he cast me down, straight and true
Light could never find me
But I was content with the darkness."
He paused his playing for a moment, as if expecting me to make some sort of statement. I was at a loss for words, but with time I thought of something.
"Why are you here, then? Sho' you not be where the darkness f-f-finds t-tranquil... peace?" My words had become incredibly slurred, the alcohol beginning to punch holes in my linguistic capabilities.
"I am allowed a brief respite with which to walk among the living, doing whatever I please. God does not always watch this world, and it is those times when he turns his back that I can be left to my... machinations."
"And what... what are your machinations?" I asked, audibly gulping, fear beginning to grip me.
"I have a song to play, and this song will always live so long as people pay attention. You can't help but pay attention, can you? Now listen to me carefully... you are wont to play her game. Do not let her create all the rules, make some for your own. Pull back on the leash that drags you in."
The devil disappeared then, and the white noise of the party returned, crashing down like a waterfall, forcing me to plug my ears briefly, if only to keep myself sane. I turned around just then, and saw a faint smile play on that... that woman's lips. That vixen, that witch, whose spells were not spoken but simply existed. She seemed to just make them appear using only her mind, her wiles, and her tricks. But those tricks were oh so beautiful, temptation that increased with each minute that I was not in her presence, feeling her against me. So I took this moment to walk. Steady steps, measured and slow, protracted longer than they needed to be. I casually swerved and dipped around couples that danced, lips locked together as if superglue had been dabbled along them. The distance between us narrowed suddenly as I was now face to face with her. I took in her full form; long brown hair that was crimped and straightened, falling along her shoulders, brown eyes tinged with red, still just as jewel-like as before, her slim form was covered by a short-cut red dress that hugged her body, her breasts perfectly rounded and immaculate, the smallest part visible from the v-cut along her upper chest. Her fingers were curled around an expensive wine glass, the deep red liquid sloshing around occasionally as she danced the glass around in her hand.
"Hey there, stranger."
"I d-don't think I'm that s-strange to you."
"You're right. I've been watching you all night. I was wondering when you'd find your way over here. You were amusing. Most men would have beelined right towards me, wanting to... to fuck me, right here, ripping off my skirt and not caring if anyone else watched. The people here are too drunk anyways. But you... you took your time. You waited. You didn't want to make it easy for me."
"A-are you a w-whore?" I asked, realizing how stupid of a question that was, awaiting the inevitable slap across the face, the drink forcefully thrown on my shirt. The vodka was making me a bit misogynistic, unfortunately. But nothing happened. She merely smiled, the corners opening wider and wider until a brief chortle escaped from her lips. She raised a hand to her chest, a peal of laughter ripping out from her like a caged beast. I shuddered inwardly when she did this, almost paranoid as to her next action. Maybe this was just one extended act and the slap is being prepared in her mind, while she plans out just the right moment. A hand shot across my face, but stopped just inches in front of my right cheek. She instead relented, caressing my incredibly dark red cheek, filled with blood from the stallions of alcohol that galloped across the plains of my bloodstream.
"Follow me, sailor." She motioned with her finger, then hastily took my left hand, dragging me to a side room away from the dance crowd.
Clothes were torn off frantically, casually thrown on the floor as our kisses were fast and frequent. Small pecks along my jawline that ascended upwards, her tongue digging into the crevasses of my mouth as she explored with haste and dexterity. I surrendered myself, briefly, to her cravings and indulgences. Her hands found their way down my chest, curling around me downstairs as I gasped and moaned at her touch. But something felt wrong. As much as I wanted to just take her right there, I felt this brick wall that my mind was setting up for me.
"Wait... wait. Okay. I know... I know I've been thinking about you all night, but... I can't do this. I'm way too drunk and you're not drunk and this all feels wrong. You're a type of woman I'd like to get to know first. Maybe... maybe we shouldn't let this go any further." I was amazed at how well I said all that, despite being near-blacked-out.
"What are you, a fag?" She asked, blunt in her suggestion, a slight tinge of anger rising in her voice.
"No... no, well, I mean, I like both I guess, but..."
"Then take me right here, stop fucking around." She groped me strongly, then, and I began to lessen my resistance... only for it to come surging back to the surface.
"Stop. Stop touching me there."
I could hear the devil in my mind, laughing somewhat at my situation, and I remembered his last words: "Pull on the leash that drags you in."
I grabbed a hold of her and restricted her arms, so she could stop urging me on with her advances. She looked up at me, those fierce eyes staring right into me. The tigers returned once more, and they were advancing upon me, backed up against a tree. Their snarls and raucous growls transfixing me. The beasts turned to look up at the outside me, before pouncing upon the inside me. I let go, then. I let go completely.
As our bodies moved together, I could hear that familiar tune on the lyre played once more, each note in time with each thrust.
The fairest of all take everything. As the Devil plays his song, humankind sins.