Dancing Her Heart
It had been some time since I'd danced except quietly for myself simply for the
enjoyment of moving my body. I do it for the same reason as I do the yoga and
stretching - it feels good. The tavern was mostly deserted. Even the musicians
sat, half asleep and more than half drunk, slouching over their instruments. He
threw some coins at them - a wake-up signal better than an alarm clock. I
served him wine and looked around the room, expecting to see a dancer begin -
perhaps even Emily. Some time ago she surprised Sana and I by appearing
seemingly out of nowhere to dance at a tavern we visited. Her dance was
stunning and, though I admit to having had problems with the girl on more than
one occasion, I was taken aback by the beauty of her and by her ability.
This night, I did not expect to dance.
He gave the order in a quiet tone, but one that would brook no argument or
demure reluctance. I made my way to a pole centered in the sands, grateful
there was no one to watch except him and the musicians, who seemed to be more
interested in finishing the song and getting on with napping and drinking than
with yet another slavegirl stepping onto the sands.
Dances here all seem to tell a story. There are dances of capture, need,
seduction, whip dances, pole dances. Ordered to dance, nothing entered my mind
- no story to tell through the movements off my body. No feigned indifference to
men. No beating my hands on the floor and tearing at my silks to show how needy
I was for him. He knows my need. He knows I am never indifferent to him.
My mind blank, I simply danced as I have out in the far corners of the gardens
at Samsara or in the Great Room when no one is around to see. Simply enjoying
the movement of my body and hoping he found it pleasing to watch. No -- hoping
he found the dance - and me - fascinating. I held to the pole, imagining it to
be the very thing that is central to my life - him. I used the pole, spinning
on it, dipping my head back, hair brushing the sand. I was awkward - almost as
awkward, I think, as the first time he ordered me to dance by a fire out in the
garden. I did not dance with the breathtaking skill of a real dancer, as I had
seen Emily do. Now, as on that first time though, I danced my heart and body
.. and I danced for him.
At the end, he was silent for what seemed a very long time. My mind raced in
those long minutes, wondering if he had been pleased. "Do you know what happens
to a girl who dances well?" he asked. I knew this - she is raped .. and raped
well.
I was.