Page 66 of The Virgin's Dance
Donna took out her ticket and handed it over to him. Without a word, he took the ticket and ushered her in.
The inside of the cave was painted bright white, just like the outside. She found herself in a long oblong room with brass pots and pans hanging from the walls. Tiny chairs encircled room, and in the middle was a large plank of wood that acted as a stage.
The band, playing away, was to the side of the stage.
There were a handful of other people scattered about the room, speaking over the music and looking quite dazed. Two floor lights gave off an amber glow which cascaded and bounced off the stone white walls.
Donna looked around at the other audience members—a small collection of old Spanish fishermen and a few other local women of the port who were laughing and flirting with the haggard old sea dogs. The rest were dressed like the gypsies José had pointed out to her in town earlier in the week. The musicians were mainly ignored, with people speaking and shouting over them.
She spotted a spare seat and, feeling out of place, darted across to it and quickly sat down.
The lights dimmed as soon as her bum hit the chair, and a strange hush came over the room.
As if from the shadows, a dancer appeared, walking into the center of the stage. With a fierceness that made Donna think of a caged animal, he circled the room slowly, making eye contact with each person before returning to the center. He was wearing a white, open-necked shirt and had long rebellious curls, which he wore in a ponytail. There was something familiar about him when he smiled, and yet his eyes were like nothing she’d seen before—striking black pools of unnerving seduction.
The dance began and Donna was transported. His stature was impressive—a broad chest that tapered down into trim hips, and long, strong legs that carried him gracefully through the steps.
He was a man, the likes of which she had never seen before. Most boys of Donna’s age were just that—boys. And she had a shocking and primal urge to reach out and grab this man, to touch his arms, to throw herself at his feet.
He was both agile and manly. She sat utterly captivated, breathing only when absolutely necessary as she watched him stamp around the stage. Beguiling and passionate, the dark skin on his chest glistened with sweat, drawing her attention to the open collar of his shirt. In those first few moments of shock, Donna thought she might die for a man like this. Walk into the storms of any sea to meet him in the middle of any ocean.
The disappointment of the past few weeks was completely forgotten, until the only thing left was pure desire. What she had felt for José was laughable compared to this.
With a final clap of his hands and stamp of his feet, the crowd was brought to attention. Then there was a flutter of cries from the audience, some claps and shouted “olés!” and then it was all over.
The crowd started piling out of the cave. Donna sat in her seat for a while without the thought or inclination to move.
The uncanny sensation of being watched came over her again, just as it had the other night on the balcony.
Suddenly, sitting in the seat opposite her, with his gold-toothed grin and purple shirt, was the old man who had given her the ticket.
He gave her a little nod and a shiver went up her spine. She didn’t know how she had missed him until now, rationalizing that the lights from the stage must have obscured him from sight.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” he said cordially as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “Well, did you enjoy it?”
“How could I not enjoy that?” she said simply.
He observed her cautiously and then said, “It is hard to tell how outsiders will take to our culture.”
There was an awkward pause in the exchange as Donna tried to think of something to say. The dance had mesmerized her, and she didn’t want to speak to him or anyone else while she was in this state.
“What did you think of our fine dancer tonight?”
“He was very, very good.”
“Yes. Here, let me introduce you to the great man himself.”
He took her by the arm before she could respond and pulled back another curtain to reveal a tunnel connecting to another room in the cave.
This was different from the showroom, lit only by candles flickering from their shelves in the stone wall, and they were alone.
“Please, sit, have a drink.” He reached for a small jug of red wine on a little wooden table and poured a glass.
Donna remained standing but took the glass, wondering if anyone else was actually coming.
Following creepy men through dark passages, are we now, Donna? Very clever.
“I don’t think we have exchanged particulars. My name is Ivan. And what is yours, dear girl?”
