Flamenco

Clapping like a heartbeat, guitar rhythm rapid and melodic. A soulful voice wails from deep within. She glances his way. Castanets clatter as wrists roll. Back arched her body moves with passionate grace. It’s all for him. Tempo speeding. Heels beat against wood. Black hair shines in the dim lights and the red rose clings to the side of her head for dear life.

He stands, hair scraped back into the nape of his neck. He stalks towards her as she spins. She stops face inches from his. He stamps his foot. She repays the gesture then turns her head. She has wanted him from the moment he walked in. Sweat trickles down her back into the depth of her dress. Scarlet fabric clings to her like paint to canvas. He reaches out. Fingers trail down her body. She shivers.

The violin moans, cutting into her. Slowly her arms rise, curling out like bows and framing her face. He walks around her. Behind her he stops so close she can feel his breath in her hair. Music beats inside hearts. With a flick of her leg, she turns. Heels drum in harmony. His dance matches hers as though they have always been there together. Dark and anguished the song blazes around the room. His hands grasp her waist. She gasps. His body presses against hers until she feels every inch of him. Gold band glints around her finger reminding her that he is hers.

liahthorley@yahoo.co.uk