The Girl with the Green Eyes
A short story by T. S. Dickson
The air of the club was thick with smoke, accompanied by both the harsh stench of tobacco and the sweet smell of pot. Julia went straight to the dance floor, while Hans and Fritz moved to opposite ends of the bar where they could keep an eye on her and still give her the space she demanded.
She had hated ballet lessons when she was young, but eight years of training imparted grace to her movement as she glided through the crowd. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of sweat and perfume from fellow dancers. She twisted and swayed in time to the rough monotone the DJ played over the sound system. Closing her eyes, she let the music and movement take her to another place. Her loneliness evaporated. She felt the crush of bodies around her, felt their heat and closeness, and knew that she truly belonged here; people united by rhythm, swaying to the beat, each in their own world and yet one family on the dance floor.
“Nice moves!” said an approving voice next to her.
Julia opened her eyes and was looking up into the deep blue eyes of a stranger. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties – athletic, but not a muscle-bound meathead like Hans and Fritz. He was wearing black leather pants that looked oh-so-right on him, and a tight shirt that left very little to the imagination. His close-cropped hair looked very practical to Julia, though she usually preferred men with long hair. She slowed her swaying and nervously began to chew on a lock of her dyed black hair.
Don’t be such a child, Julia scolded herself, say something!
“Nice,” was all she managed. Great, she thought, nice what? Nice dancing, yourself? Nice guy? Nice ass?
The stranger smiled, seemed satisfied with her response, and took her hand. He turned her to face him, and they began to dance together. He moved well, not as delicately as Julia, but with a rough quality that seemed appropriate for him. He watched her closely as they danced, and Julia suddenly felt a need to get closer. She pirouetted, swayed, and turned away from him. She then pressed her back to his chest and began rocking her hips back and forth. She felt his arms come around her, and she pressed closer still.
Oh, please don’t be gay, she thought to herself.
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