Dirty Dancing
639 words

((Warning: Suggestive content.))


Snake Eyes’ was a catch-all in Knocktown. By day it was a betting parlor-bar combo, while by night it was a club. It was known to hold poker tournaments and stomp contests. Despite all the activity, Snake Eyes wasn’t a place someone passing by on the street would likely feel the desire to check out. Snake Eyes itself was on the first floor of a three-story building, and many of the windows of the upper floors had aluminum taped in them. Graffiti covered much of the brick walls that faced the side streets and back parking lot, while the wooden front seemed worn and droopy.

None of this determined Nyasa. She was looking for a release, a place where she’d blend in, and Snake Eyes fit that bill. The patrons of Snake Eyes were mix of students destined for failure, people working too many jobs for too little money, and people that made their living by living off others. The unspoken rule in Snake Eyes was simple: unless someone had a gun, they were okay.

It's gettin late
I'm making my way over to my favorite place

Stepping through the dark threshold, Nyasa closed her eyes for a brief moment, savoring the thump of the bass, the scents of various smokes, and the smell of alcohol. Even the faint undertones of vomit and sweat were welcome. Some people’s skin crawled when they felt dirty, felt a need to get clean, but not Nyasa. No, it was getting down and dirty that made her feel alive.

I gotta get my body moving, shake the stress away

The mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor called to her. She quickly inserted herself into the crowd, losing herself to the music. She threw her head back, raised her hands, and let her hips sway, feeling herself loosen and relax as she fell into the beat. She danced, just danced and danced, eyes closed and mind blissfully silent. The crowd melted away, leaving just her and the music.

Hands. Suddenly there were hands on her hips, a light, questioning grip. Nyasa turned her head slightly, met the dark eyes behind her, and tilted her head slightly. Now it was a dance for two.

I wasn't looking for nobody when you looked my way
Possible candidate, yeah

The next song was louder, faster. The crowd grew more frenzied, pulsing with the rhythm. Nyasa ground back, swaying with her unknown partner. Names, history, it didn’t mater now; just the music, just the feeling.

Her partner, whoever he was – it was now obvious that it was a he – approved, tightening his grip and grinding back. Nyasa answered, letting her hands roam behind her, never losing track of the beat.

Do you know what you started
I just came here to party
But now we're rockin on the dance floor
Acting naughty

Another song, a new song, popular with the younger crowd. Nyasa didn’t know it, didn’t care about it. She nudged her companion, then nodded to a side door. Understanding what she meant, he left. She waited a couple minutes before following, letting the tension build.

I wanna take you away
Lets escape into the music

The door let to a stairwell. He was waiting there, sitting on the bottom of the stairs. His straying eyes showed admiration of her outfit, but registered no recognition or suspicion, showed no intelligence beyond that; perfect. The muffled music continued in the background as she beckoned him, and despite his surprise - he'd been expecting someone else - he moved forward eagerly.

DJ let it play

Hands everywhere, conducting a different sort of dance now.

I just can't refuse it
Like the way you do this
Keep on rockin to it

She approved, but kept one hand on his lips, a reminder that this was nothing personal. The man kept quiet.

Don't you feel the passion ready to explode
What goes on between us no one has to know
This is a private show, oh

She stepped back and the man collapsed. Face flushed, she rolled a gem between her fingers as she nudged the limp body with her foot; out. Mica allowed herself a small, satisfied smile before her ears perked. She liked this song.

Please don't stop the
Please don't stop the music

The gem vanished in the blink of an eye, as did Mica. Nyasa slipped through the door and rejoined the ignorant masses, falling back into the groove immediately.

It had been risky, but only just, and just what she needed: the stress was gone and she felt alive.