Bemoaned to Dance

A thunderous chorus of Jazz music ignites across a golden corridor of windowed glass and steel. Affluently dressed men and women step through clean hardwood floor in a careful motion of dance. Laughter fills the eclectic chambers, as does a great visage of youthful smiles accompanied by the smell of perfume and decadent drink.

Within the epicenter of this gregarious partying crowd. A lone woman cloaked in black stands above them, lurking upon the edge of the grand balcony that was leveraged by a golden staircase. Her small gentle hand laced with black fingernail polish caress' her pale cheek. Whereupon she gazes at the others dancing and carousing amongst a cacophony of noise.

*sigh*

She bemoans, her bottom lip carefully tucked into a pout. The young woman's eyes dart up as a thought graces her mind. Not an unusual occurrence; as she so often found a literary reference for every occasion it seemed.

"To sleep...perchance to dream." the young woman whispered softly to herself. Before her words were met by another.

"...For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come."

A stranger's deep authoritative voice had cradled her own. She spun around, eyes widened to find a tall but youthful looking man before her and he continued to speak.

"Those words...that was Hamlet...was it not? Do you read of such things often?" his voice quivering with a slight nervousness.

The young girl's piercing blue eyes remained wide with surprise and slowly drifting off to the floor. Unsure of what to say.

"I'm...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to disturb you miss....I...." he chattered.

As if having finally processed the situation. Her eyes finally met his with a newfound energy and she spoke accordingly.

"Rose...I'm Rose and as far as I can tell sir you've yet to disturb a soul."

"Well, that's quite the relief. Would you care to dance with me? Miss Rose?"

The young man extended his hand upon the great space between them. Rose carefully stepped forward toward the man with a wondrous expression in her eyes. Before her hands finally met his.

With each hand in hand. Rose carefully hooked her arm around his shoulders. Reciprocating his offer with a calculated, methodical sway of her hips against him. The conclusion of which she topped off with a slow, scandalous dip backwards that left little to his imagination. In the aftermath of her brash maneuver, the young man could only nervously smile, his face flustered. Before finally gathering some words.

"Most girls don't dance like that...."

Rose playfully bit her lip.

"Most girls are idiots."

The young man snorted loudly with laughter. Before shyly covering his hand over his mouth. To which Rose suddenly pulled him closer. Such a great strength from a small frame.

"I never got your name." She said with a certain succinct bite.

"Arthur...it's Arthur..."

"Ah, like the great Kings of old?"

"Something like that."

With him close, Rose began to trace his chest with her fingers. Facetiously...the tips of her digits drew an inverted cross over his heart.

"As you say....my king" she cooed with a breathy snicker of laughter. Almost as if she found herself hilarious. Her fingers lingered from his chest to over his shoulder. Rose's eyes lit up brightly. In kind, Arthur leaned forward into her...his breathing heavy until he swallowed one last exchange of air. In the resulting wave of motion, his lips had followed hers. The moment was perfect and our young lady fluttered her eyes shut; fully taken in his embrace.

Through the rhythm of dance that was their bodies. They were somewhere else entirely. Upon this grand balcony away from the assorted crowd, a dark pocket of space neatly lined above where no one dared to look or interrupt...until a deafening silence suddenly filled the room. Whereupon Rose opened her eyes once more. An unwelcome grimace overtook her expression.

The shadows that leaked through the large windows of the hall were her clock. Rose could see that it must be past midnight by now. Taken aback by the melancholic soundless atmosphere. She rested her arms upon the railing of the grand balcony and peered over. The once filled hardwood dance floor now rang empty. With the only visage greeting her now being the distant, distorted image of her reflection amidst the footprints and dirt.

With a bitter motion, Rose tilted her head back and slowly turned around to face the empty golden staircase that stood behind her. The young woman's blue eyes had darkened before reluctantly drifting to the elegant red carpeted floor beneath her feet.

"To sleep..." she murmured.

"...perchance to dream."