I sit in the cloudy room. The lights are dim covering half my face as the band prepares to play and I toy with my drink.
Everything around me is in shades of black or white.
I stare out past the palm leaves rustling in the wind to the ocean melting into the sand.
I stir my drink as images of Marlene in hot voodoo whisper in the breeze. I clasp a cigarette and command "give me a light" like Greta Garbo.
I tilt my head like Grace Kelly and lean effortlessly back into the shadows, melting into the black.
I whisper the tune Amada Mio by Rita and begin to attract shadows of by gone souls. I do not dare turn around. I have the will power of Mata Hari now. I am now lost in my own little world.
The band now plays as I tap my foot under the stool.
I hear voices behind me. One by one of James Mason, then Gregory Peck, Cary Grant, Fred Astaire, Spencer Tracey and Gene Kelly asking me for a dance.
I turn in my tight black strapped gown as the light crosses over my glossed lips and whisper in a cloud of smoke.
"yes, I shall dance with all of you.!" as I smash the cigarette "but first I..."
and I toss off my shoes and shove past them and run out to the balcony, then onto the sand barefoot and dance like the barefoot contessa. I dance wild and free under the moon. " I dance for ME!"