Just reposting this from an old account. C:
I own nothing and I'm not making any money outta this!
The music was deafeningly loud, bass thumping in time with the rapidly flashing multicolored lights. Everywhere around him people were dancing, crowded so close together that he couldn't even see the floor. Nights like these were the best, in his opinion, nights when he could just lose himself in the atmosphere of the club. Nobody cared about anything but dancing, blowing off steam, letting everything go.
He pushed through the crowd, going in no particular direction, watching the faces of the patrons behind his sunglasses. They all had the same expressions, a sort of reckless abandon, heads tilted up towards the huge disco ball in the center of the room, sometimes mouthing the words of the song. He scanned them all, satisfied, until his gaze settled on one particular tigress in a tiny clearing, where she danced all alone.
He recognized her, he thought… She had been lurking around his club lately. What was she doing in here? Not that he minded, particularly. It wasn't like she was causing trouble or anything and, now that he watched her… she was an amazing dancer.
He stopped walking and stared at her, taking a long puff of his cigarette. She was completely absorbed in the music, her head bowed, arms above her head. Her hips were particularly enchanting to watch, as they moved and swayed unlike anything he had ever seen, every movement of them flowing up into her chest, and then her head, and then her arms. Her footwork was fancy, even though she didn't move much from her spot, and even her tail was perfectly in sync. She seemed to be moving in slow-motion almost, the lights casting dark shadows over her toned body. And her face… she was pretty, with dark stripes like exotic make-up decorating her features. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open. It was just her and the music.
He watched her for the entire song, enthralled, and when it ended he seized the opportunity, walking over to her. It didn't seem like she had been planning on stopping, but when she saw him coming she did, anyway. Not a flash of uncertainty passed through her as he approached. She stood tall and confident, crossing her arms, her tail flicking idly.
"Admiring the view?" she asked before he could say anything. He half shrugged, inhaling on his cigarette again.
"You've got some slick moves, kitty-cat," he said, thinking that 'slick' might be an understatement. "You're kind of hard to miss."
"Well, thank you, I guess, but I-"
"Where'd you learn to jive like that?" he asked. She shifted, moving her hands to her hips now, and stared at him.
"India," she said. There was a pause. "Wait… Do I know you?"
"Everyone knows me here, baby!" he said, standing up a little straighter. "You haven't heard of the Dimitri? I'm the owner of this place!"
"Dimitri," she said thoughtfully. After a moment, she put her hand out towards him. "Neyla."
"Enchanté," he said, attempting to kiss her hand. She pulled it away and smirked at him.
"Do you dance?" she asked. He let out an indignant noise.
"Do I dance? Of course I do, kitty-cat! That's like asking if Da Vinci paints! I can lay down a beat better than a lot of-"
"You wanna dance with me?" she asked, amused. The bass beats of the next song were just beginning.
"Mm. Dimitri doesn't usually bring down the house with other peeps – cramps my style – but… how can I turn down a request from a pretty kitty like yourself?" He snuffed out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray, then turned towards her. He grabbed her arms and pulled her over to him until there were only a few inches between them. The bass exploded into a full-blown song, pounding throughout the club and vibrating through his body. She grinned up at him smugly, apparently not minding that he had just yanked her through any sort of personal bubbles either of them had had. So far, she was his kind of girl.
"Let's dance."