One bastard of a bitch

I've been looking through my memoriesI've been tryna see your faceBut you're moving like a mysteryAnd you look the other wayIf you found me in the pouring rainWould you let me in?Would you look into your memories?Tell me where you've been?

She breathed a sigh of trepidation, leaving her orange juice and lemonade on the table, and she hesitantly climbed up the stage. She came to the bar with him, straight out of the office, so the stairs, however short, gave her some trouble: her slacks almost got caught on one step, and her high heels weren't helping, either. She wore a three-piece suit to work that day (as she does everyday), and her overall look, although can be described as Kafkasque pimped up, was tasteful, and absolutely intentional. The suit was serious; the heels were screaming playtime. She revelled in such polemics in life, in principle, and barring that, in dress. She wore the feminine almost begrudgingly; as if a cloak to be discarded in a land of permafrost. It was her madness tamed to modesty, and she knew it. She navigated the stairs slowly, and with a slightly - only slightly - visible sigh, she made it to the stage.

She turned to the audience, illuminated by the unintelligible politics of the disco ball, making the men look like lost souls and the women like bad sex-dolls. No matter: they came to enjoy in the bar, amid its noise, light, and alcohol. Of course everybody knows that the bar is almost an excuse; what they came to enjoy was each other. Thus the age-old mating dance between man and woman becomes eternal once more, and ever. 

The music began. It was karaoke night, every Thursday, and he had goaded her into singing for him. She obliged, knowing that she could never be as good as him on stage, but willing to make the effort for the team in this march of the pawns owned by the ever-golden, young gods of sex. 

She took a deep breath, and started to sing. It was K-391's Aurora, albeit one octave lower, mercifully, for her. The original F#m would have killed her trachea and made her sound like a chipmunk reading Derridean grammatology.

When the sun is going down
I feel you coming closer
Counting in the dark, I feel at home

Hesitantly at first - so many hesitations tonight! - she started to sway to the beat of the second verse. Sheathed in that sinful stilleto, her right foot started intuitively tapping in time to the bass, and, as in sex and music, a primal urge was awakening. It was as old as the mating dance itself; and there was no need for language, for any introduction, for any of the flaccid, "Do you speak English?" introductions one hears from pretend cosmopolitans who are in fact always homesick. None of that shit. It flowed through her now, the heat of this almost caveman music. She closed her eyes and sang, as hard as she can, an ode to the goddess of dawn.

I see you light up the sky
A dance in the night, Aurora
I see the stars in your eyes
Believe in your lies, Aurora
Mine for a moment and then you're gone
And I'm still holding on
To a light in the sky
A dance in the night, Aurora

She opened her eyes, and find them locked, like a magnet to the Earth's true north, on his eyes. She forged on, dancing with her shoulders, knowing full well that if she danced with her hips he would be hers. It was a dangerous bet: she liked him first, after all. It was a power that even the most basic anime in Japan recognizes: who loves first is the loser.

Feeling almost like a secret
Hidden in an emerald sea
And I'm drowning in your green eyes
Got that power over me
If I told you how I really feel
Would you let me in?
Would you tell me all your secrets?
Tell me where you've been?

And then, just as swiftly as the intution comes that we all know one thing and that is it, she thinks, "Enough odes. Fuck all these apostrophes. Fuck all of you." She started gyrating, her arms over her head, in time to her hips.

When the sun is going down
I feel you coming closer
Counting in the dark, I feel at home

The beat becomes primal: the bass almost a penis too big to fit in a mating dance, but oh so pleasurable. She gives in, like Moby Dick taking his last dive:

I see you light up the sky
A dance in the night, Aurora
I see the stars in your eyes
Believe in your lies, Aurora
Mine for a moment and then you're gone
And I'm still holding on
To a light in the sky
A dance in the night, Aurora
I see you light up the sky
A dance in the night, Aurora
I see the stars in your eyes
Believe in your lies, Aurora
Mine for a moment and then you're gone
And I'm still holding on
To a light in the sky
A dance in the night, Aurora

As the song fades, her blazer somehow unbuttoned through all the gyrations. She opens her eyes. The audience applauds, and, like a babe regretfully returning to its mother, she returns to orbit. Before she leaves the stage, more careful this time - for descent is more dangerous than climbing - she catches his eyes amid the crowd. He looks stoic, unimpressed, as though bored by the whole thing.

Image credit: https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/634655772459775449/

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