Mahana: Exotic Black Rose

Could he really be looking at me? I turned away as the dance carried me, and pondered the crisp blue eyes of the soldier in camouflage. Mother had nudged me to attend this fete. I truly had not wanted to be here.

Fluid grace carried me as if on tiptoe, the kid skin heels making me seem taller and blonder and more regal in some strange way, and the flutter of petals spun round me. It was a new organza dress, pleated in places, ruffles around my face, all perfectly suited to providing some cover and comfort from this keen eyed man's sure gaze.

I tugged anxiously on the cloth covered ear-bob that hung from my ear, a pair of earrings had come with the gown. As I adjusted the pretty bow, and smoothed the material, so smooth and soft, I dared to look back to the gentleman. He had not moved nor had his eyes raking gaze.

Finally, stuttering with anxiety, I made my way a full sweep of motion round the floor and back in his direction. I paused, hand on hip, letting the black material printed with a thousand seductive roses fall naturally against my curves, took a deep breath then offered my hand to him, "Hello. I'm..." my voice trailed off as he took my hand in his and lifted a fingertip to his lip. I had no choice but to follow. Another song began.