Danzatrice

The sultan’s odalisque was dancing among steams of incense and golden pendants. Her silk veils adhered to her curves, her vests bells were ringing.

The entire court would admire her in utter silence, astonished at her rhythmic movements, at her graceful bare feet. She danced in the smoke of hookahs as a divine presence among the humans. A white masque covered her lips and face and through it, you could see only her eyes: an intense purple, enchanting makeup on eyelids and eyelashes. She was wearing a ring on her finger, made of rock crystal and amethysts, as if it were a spying eye.

The sultan would watch expressing desire on his face. He nudged her to come over and she obeyed, but never stopped dancing.

“Vow before me”, he said, “take me as your lord and I will grant you permission to marry me”.

But the odalisque kept dancing, she wouldn’t answer. The incense shrouded her, bloating her vests. Lifting up her veils, she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

All that was left was her ring, shining by the lights of oil lamps. Seductive and fatal, like the eyes of the dancer.