Free vnNeSsa1 by Lane Tracey

dancers’ movements become more abandoned in response. A back curtain rises to reveal a soaring structure that brings a gasp from the audience. It’s a thirty-foot waterfall cascading down what looks like a sheer rock wall. Building drumbeats course through my body as the dancers move skillfully around and over the rocks that flank the waterfall. I’m further amazed by a white tiger lounging lazily on one of the rocks.
    How am I ever going to look like the other female dancers, so effortless in front of all those gaping people in the audience? And the male dancers, bare-chested, strong muscles flexing, cover the expanse of stage with ease. They’re fantastic. Some dancers are perched on rocks at the very top of the falls! How did they even get there? I’m transfixed; nothing can break my concentration.
    Nothing except for the person who sits next to me.
    “Impressive display, isn’t it?” There’s a beautiful Latino accent that goes with the face I was blinded by. I just about melt out of my blue dress. My voice fails me for a moment.
    “Yes,” I choke out brilliantly.
    “You will be doing this in just a few short days.”
    OK, brain, think of more than a one-word answer.
    “Yeah, I’m pretty nervous about it. I’m especially worried about dancing with the heels and headdresses in the later numbers.” The waterfall number is building to a crescendo. The star of the show, Brynne, is being lowered from the catwalks to the stage in a large cage. The male dancers are helping her out of the cage as the female dancers melt off stage. The male dancers fight over the singer in a mock battle, slaying one another until only she is left standing at the end with the tiger. Her dark brown skin and black bodysuit perfectly complement the white tiger. There is a tremendous crashing of cymbals, pulsing of lights and the stage goes black.
    We st ay silent, watching. The theater breaks into wild applause at the number’s end and then becomes quiet as the scenery changes to a Parisian setting. The singer has switched costumes during the scene change. She begins singing a French song in clear, sweet tones. Jennifer, Lily, and Tink are craning their necks to get a look at the man seated next to me. I sneak a quick look at his profile.
    Again, there’s the feel of confidence like a force field surrounding him. Thick, black waves of hair frame a proud face. Absurdly long eyelashes beat too slowly on overly large eyes. His nose is broad, lips are full, and skin is brown. His skin looks as if it might be rough if I were to reach out right now and touch it. A slight twitch to the corner of his mouth tells me he knows I’m studying him. My face heats up. He turns my way, smiling, and continues our conversation in a whisper.
    “I’ll bet the heels and headdresses are something you get used to pretty quickly. I’m sure you’ll be just great.” He says t his last thing with a smile so genuine that it makes me feel warm down the length of my body.
    “I hope so. We’ll find out soon enough.” His eyes are a deep chocolate brown and look as welcoming as his smile. He nods, looks at me with those slow blinking eyes, and then gets up and leans over close to my ear.
    “My break is over. Of course you and your friends will be going to the cast party tomorrow night? I can properly introduce myself there.” He is so close I involuntarily close my eyes and tilt my face toward him to take in his scent. Oceans and pine and a wood-burning fire come to mind. How is that possible? I feel off-balance. He stays by my ear long after he’s done talking. Then he smiles again as he slowly straightens up, nods at the other dancers, and makes his way down the aisle.
    We are all staring after his departing figure, the show forgotten. The dancers start whispering all at once. “What did he say?” “Did you find out who he is?” What’s his name?” “Did I hear an accent?” “What does he do here?” “Why didn’t he sit by me?” This last