Purple Silk

Purple silk. The woman wore purple silk like skin and wielded it like a weapon. Her hips swayed to a beat that entranced any who allowed themselves to be caught up in the movement. With arms held above her head, fluidly winding and twisting while occasionally falling to caress some body part, she danced. Thin strings of jewelry shrouded the woman like a spider's web, silver threads catching the avid watcher's eye. Here and there the tingling of a bell announced the twitch of a hip, the flick of a wrist, or the gentle lifting and dipping of a delicate ankle. She was exquisite.

The man before her, spellbound by the vision of perfectly proportioned beauty, was inclined to agree. His eyes held the beginnings of a lusty haze as he stared, voraciously devouring the visual feast laid out before him. His breathing was still slow and easy, though any sudden movement by the gyrating female would inspire a momentary hitch in his respiration. His expression was a blend of wolf-like hunger and devoted appreciation. Yes, he knew her. Quite well, in fact. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought she could or would do what he was witnessing, but he certainly wasn't complaining about the change of heart. The woman bent backward, slowly tipping her head back to the ground while simultaneously revealing a beautiful strip of toned, caramel brown skin. If that wasn't enough to break his train of thought, the wink of amethyst in her belly button was. He shifted, just slightly, in his seat and continued to watch.

His eyes were not the only one to appraise the dancing woman. Another's eyes followed the trail of thin, gauzy fabric that fluttered in the air, following the wrist to which it was attached. With every gesture, the cloth swayed and dipped, graceful and mesmerizing in its own right. It made the girl feel even more sick. In another room, behind a thick, one sided mirror, the dancer's less perfect doppelganger withered in the shadows. That's right. The two women were one and the same, and yet completely different.

One danced and undulated with the practiced ease of an athlete, the other was slow and lumpy, confined to the thick chains embedded in the wall behind her. One commanded attention with every breath she took, the other was invisible to even the most astute observer, not that anyone wanted to look at her anyway. In vain, she had spent the last hour trying to push those thoughts from her mind, but every playful giggle and flirty touch the two people before her exchanged brought an acidic bile to the top of her throat and burned in the pit of her stomach.

He had been her friend. More than that, for he had long since gone above and beyond the call of duty for any mere friend. They had shared everything, or as close as two people could come to it, so when she awoke to see the imposter clinging to his arm it nearly broke her. Sure, confusion had come first. Why was she in this room, locked to a wall with chains so thick she had no hope of escape? Who was that woman? Why were they so close? It hadn't taken more than a minute to realize they were on a date, and not much longer than that to see that her friend was enjoying himself. She didn't mind that, but something was still wrong. It wasn't until she caught a snippet of the conversation that she realized who her friend believed the woman to be. From there, her insecurities had done their work thoroughly. Every doubt, every vice, every issue with self image she had ever had was pulled to the surface when faced with the harsh reality of the woman her friend deserved. A woman she could never be.

Turning her head to the side, she clenched her eyes shut, trying to ignore the scene before her. The woman had been taking small, but deliberate steps forward, inching closer and closer to her prey. The smaller the distance, the smoother and more sensuous her movement became. Her dance spoke for itself, and it spoke thunderously.

The man's eyes flickered, checking to see if he was reading the signals correctly. She seemed so completely different, so unhindered and completely out of character. Again, to say he detested the changes would be a straight lie, but sharp and completely unforeseen transformation did raise a few alarms. Gentle hands caressing his face, running through his hair, then sliding up and down the woman's side silenced the alarms promptly. His thoughts shattered and scattered throughout his brain and, with her so close now, he did not care enough to collect them.

That seething bile bubbled in her stomach again. A whole slew of feelings she knew far too well assaulted her on far greater levels. Some part was jealousy, and she knew it. She could never be so bold or so beautiful. She'd never have the courage, or the assets to pull off such a feat. This feeling...was quite like being kicked in the stomach, including the subsequent gasping for air and tearing in the eyes. A small voice, growing steadily louder whispered everything she'd ever hated about herself into her ear. Again and again, she was measured, the slim beauty as her ruler, and endlessly, she was found wanting.

Her breath quickened with the weight of her failures just as the proximity of the warm, voluptuous body quickened his. They were only inches apart, her hand had stilled at the back of his neck and her gyrating had slowed to a barely imperceptible movement centimeters away from his body. The girl in the room was only inches from unconsciousness. Her breaths were too short, too shallow, too useless to keep her awake.

Soft, thick, moist lips make contact with the man's just as the world went dark and the girl in chains hit the floor.