Page 63 of The Virgin's Dance
“And by that I mean, are you having a good time?”
“Oh, for sure,” she said again, convincing no one.
“Well, whatever you say, I can see something in your eyes that tells a different story. It is a shame, because this place, this land … it is to be enjoyed.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She’d just spent a good part of the day trying to drill that thought into her lovelorn head.
He put his hand inside his purple shirt pocket and pulled out a paper, handing it to her. “Here, take this. Whatever your personal circumstance, you should see the heart of Spain. You should see something of what this place is about—feel its roots, taste everything it has to offer.”
It was a ticket.
“What is this?”
“It’s a ticket to my show. You can use it any night. It’s good for one show, any day of the week,” he said.
“I really don’t think I’m going to have time, and I’m not—”
“Just take it!” he interrupted, his words sounding almost like a command, and placed his hand on hers, the ticket between them.
She didn’t say anything more. They sat in semi-silence, with him making some more small talk as he watched her sip her drink.
He had ordered both of them some kind of orange liqueur, very sweet and too strong to down very fast.
She got up as soon as she finally finished. “Right, well, thank you for the drink. I should really be off now. My friend will be wondering where I am, but thank you so much for helping me out. I wish I could give you the money for my drinks,” she said as forcefully and politely as she could.
“You can repay me simply by attending my show,” he replied.
You said that having a drink with you was enough. Now it’s the show.
She forced herself not to recoil as he placed a kiss on each cheek—the Spanish way, she’d quickly learned—and then began a slow walk home in the dusk.
That night, back in her little white guest room, she saw the man’s face in her dreams. In the dream he was younger, his face almost beautiful, his green eyes glowing in moonlight. He was moving forward her, about to kiss her, but as she leaned forward to meet his lips he began to grin unpleasantly. That horrible grin filled the dreamscape, distorting everything around her.
She woke up with a start, the full moon shining through as the curtains shuffled between the open balcony doors. She stepped out into the warm night, the sharp sea air gently blowing in her face. She felt a strange, deep longing overcome her, mixed with a sense of danger. She couldn’t place the feeling at all.
She sighed and looked down at the waves crashing over the side of the rocks, the water rushing back and forth over and over again.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spied the long shadow of a figure moving, but it quickly disappeared.
She hunched up her shoulders instinctively. She suddenly felt like she was being watched.
She wrapped her loose dressing gown tightly across her body, naked underneath the thin material, and then stood very still, tracing her eyes along the coastline in search of the shadowy figure.
The dark beach was deserted, the waves moving furiously. The palm trees along the shoreline were swaying, but the beach road was empty.
She couldn’t see any signs of anyone at all, and after some time searching, she began to think she had imagined it completely.
The cool sea breeze began to numb her bare legs and finally she returned to her room, shutting the balcony doors behind her.
She noticed for the first time that the windows had transparent net curtains, and she felt like she was in a goldfish bowl.
Switching off her bedside lamp, she fell into a light and fitful sleep, not waking again until the morning.
Chapter 4
“Does my bum look big in these pants, Donna?” José asked, making sure she got a good look at the bum in question.
