Dressing the Part

by Tam Francis from Ghostoria

Lizzy closed her eyes and tried to find her partner's rhythm; it often helped when dancing with a stranger. She didn't know what possessed her to sign up for the Jack and Jill contest. She hadn't been dancing very long and Jack and Jill contests could be particularly difficult. Paired with a random partner and rotated every ninety seconds, she'd be judged on how well she followed and how much individual style she could add to the dance. Still in the first round, she couldn't feel his lead, so she closed her eyes.

She shifted into the past, like a memory she'd never had, and found herself jitterbugging with a leggy sailor at a USO dance. His rough hands chafed hers, but she liked his enthusiasm and joy of dance. She smiled and followed his lead—his rhythm solid and easy. When Lizzy opened her eyes, she found herself back in present time, her lanky partner smiling at her. She'd found his rhythm. When he spun her out of the Shadow Charleston, it felt good. If the judges were paying attention they would've noticed she hadn't missed a step.

She guessed it was her new vintage dress. The 1940's era, poufy sleeve, A-line skirt in pink umbrellas, and black trim made her feel more graceful. She'd finally found the courage to dress the part. Not all the swing dancers did, but she admired the winners of the national contest, and they'd worn vintage clothing. It made the Lindy Hop seem that much more authentic. She didn't know how to do her hair or make-up yet, but when she'd stopped by an estate sale in her neighborhood, the dresses called to her. She was thrilled to find they were her size. Even more astonishing, a pair of wedgie shoes that matched all three dresses, fit perfectly as well.

She'd had the dresses dry-cleaned and she'd worn one for the first time tonight. It boosted her confidence enough to sign up for the contest.

A thin sheath of perspiration covered her body. The dress clung to her like a second skin, and she felt strangely invincible. She made it through to the next level. All the leads in the final round were good and solid but led complicated moves she didn't know. She followed the flow of the dress, the skirt wrapped around her thighs like a Morning Glory. The poufy sleeve kept her from raising her arm too high, which would have resulted in elbowing her fourth partner in the face.

They announced Lizzy as the winning Jill, surprising her, but another part of her was smug with the win. Emboldened from her success she found herself asking all the hotshot dancers to dance. Once or twice, naughty thoughts about the guy at the end of her arm entered her mind. She'd never thought that way about a stranger before. Visceral flashes of flesh popped before her eyes. It was as if she was of two minds. She danced every song until the lights went up and the organizers ushered everyone out.

She hadn't felt the blisters from the new old shoes until she got home and peeled off her socks. The cotton stuck to the raw circles of rubbed flesh. Luckily there was no blood.

* * *

He dipped her and pressed his leg between hers, closer than most leads would. She didn't mind, liking the way her dress slid across her hips and trailed to the floor. His breath ghosted across her neck. She wanted him. And when he pulled her up from the dip, she shifted her weight and leaned into his taut body, aware of the thin rayon fabric between them. She'd seen him before and thought he was cute, but had never danced with him before tonight.

His jet-black hair was slicked into a 1930's gangster coif, a few strands had fallen over his dark eyes. High Korean cheekbones hid a shadow of acne scars, and only a few inches taller than she, his athletic body fit hers like a mirror image. He smiled.

"I thought you were a beginner dancer. That was a kick ass dance. You dance like you've been dancing for years," he said, low in her ear, not releasing her from their close position. "Thanks for my best dance of the night."