Posts
Her costume was a strange mix. An Indian Choli of red silk. An Egyptian veil. A silver Moroccan headband and Turkish detached sleeves of red velvet. She was barefoot but her toenails were polished gleaming red, matching her flowing red silk pantaloons. A wide silver belt slung low on her hips, with diamond pendants hanging onto her thighs.
Her dance was slow. Suggestive. Arms overhead. Her head thrown back with her eyes closed and her red lips glistening, throwing her long black hair around her body.
The Sultan watched, entranced. Her eyes bore through him, and filled him with promises.
Ndinombethe.
9 comments:
oooooo, superb!
My close friend Mrs H and I are taking bellydancing classes! I just thought you would like to know.... but I think the only thing I have in common with your bellydancer is the red toenails.
Oh, I love this, Lou! Absolutely love it. Exotic and sensual and just right!
Nevine
Her burning gaze bore thru the Sultan unlike any of the other women in his harem that danced for him before. It was as if the heat and intensity of her gaze did more than melt him... he was liquified.
It was the woman's allure and the unspoken promises that the sway of her hips made and the flow of her silks around her body. The smell of incense and perfume combined with these feelings, forming a lust that he would mistake for love.
The dancer, in her mind was only the thought of doing what she was bid to do. And she danced.
Beautiful! You're a Master with 100 words!
It amazes me how quickly good writing can transport me to new, foreign worlds. Thanks.
Shadow: Thank you, Shadow.
Mrs F with 4: Oh, Beccy. You WILL dance for me someday, yes?
Nevine: Thank you, Nevine.
Big Mark 243: Mark - a truly wonderful and gifted 104 words from you.
Jientje: Thank you, Jientje.
Grandmother: You're so welcome. Thank you.
I was instantly transported to the Sultan's tent, the smell of incense drifting around me. And she might be Sheherazade, her eyes promising yet another exotic tale for later, buying her another day of life.
Excellent.
Dearest Lou: You ARE kidding, right?! That would be the stuff your nightmares are made of. Besides, you always have your camera FAR too handy.....
Post a Comment