The Solitary Tango

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The lights go on to a jazz hue, red wash lights fade across the back of the stage. The first notes swarm the stage and the girls tap to the beat. Their heels following the chime of the drum, their hands curling and contorting in goddess like motions. Both in black, with bright red long flowing skirts- and a red rose in their hair curly red hair.
The crowd watches in awe- they do the solitary tango and they are beautiful.
Sly smiles on their faces, ‘come closer but you will never have’ they say. Their eyes twinkle with desire that no man’s worthy enough to fulfil.
The music swells and they move faster, their feet to the beat, their hands twirling and whirling, their bodies sexual- calling, demeaning.
Piano pauses and the drum beats on, all eyes fixate on one as the other holds a pose. The dancer follows the drum in its race to conquer the song, her beauty radiates, she follows the fading red light to the end then clutches her partner across the hip.
The piano returns and the two dance like betrayed friends, domination in their posture, eyes on each other menacing.
The drums pause and the piano goes on, the other breaks free of the other’s hold. She moves like liquid flowing from a fountain, slow yet beautiful. Feet move in swishes, hands beckoning and pushing away, body seductive. She follows the keys each one by one then stomps her feet at her partner. The piano shouts.
The partner echoes. The piano cries.
The other stamps and spins. The piano sings.
The partner stomps and twirls. The piano screams and they move together again, agonizingly graceful.
Majestic and crude, a dance of jealousy, beauty and broken hearts.
The music fades and one poses slightly ahead of the other.
It is Leila.
Ahead of Catherine.





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