I pushed the hunger away and focused on reviewing the routine in my head. Since it was a solo performance, any mistake on my part would be noticeable.
First would be the slow, seductive movements, to the rhythm of La Valse d’Amélie by Yann Tiersen, from the French movie Amélie. The whimsical sounds of the piano created a vibe that made me feel magical. Then would come the gritty sounds of Looking For You by We Are Fury. The faster pace of this song would allow me to spin and fly. It was perfect for the acrobatic parts of the routine.
The whole performance would only last eight minutes. Although, I shouldn't say only because climbing, twisting, and flipping upside down on two swiveling pieces of fabric twenty feet up in the air was no easy feat. Not to mention, it was dangerous, even with the landing mat lying on the floor beneath me. But my life had been so dull and entrapping, the rush of adrenaline I got up here made me feel more alive than I’d been in years.
Tonight held special meaning. It was New Year’s Eve and my last performance before leaving San Francisco for good, something I'd been wanting to do for a while. Two days from now, my sister Fiona and I would pack up our cars and drive north to begin a new chapter of our lives. A chapter I hoped would be better than the shitshow I'd been living in.
“Arabel!” A woman’s voice called from below.
My eyes followed the sound and found the DJ holding up her thumbs, alerting me the performance was about to start. I shoved the frightened part of me into her box. Insecurity and hesitation had no place in acrobatics.
I opened the free strand of fabric and wrapped it around my body, cocooning myself before closing my eyelids and taking deep, focusing breaths. A few seconds later, the music sprung from the giant black speakers spread throughout the club, and the spotlight turned on, making my eyes squint as the cone of bright white light hit me. I blinked a few times until my sight adjusted. The sound of the clarinet guided my movements as I straightened my right leg, putting my full weight on it, the foot-lock keeping me from sliding.
I rotated my hips, leisurely exiting the cocoon. Once exposed, I stretched my arms above my head, wrapping my hands around the fabric to unlock my right foot so I could slide to the ground, where I transitioned into the floor sequence.
Each movement filled the cells in my body with undiluted confidence. Inhibitions disappeared, replaced by a primitive feeling, making me aware of my womanhood without stirring shame or judgment in my heart. Aerial dance is a sensuous art, and being sensual was something not even Arabel from before had mastered. If someone had asked me to give them a private striptease, I would have chuckled, and the skin on my face would have matched the redness of my hair.
Sensuality was something I wasn't good at, unless on the silks, where I felt safe, unable to be physically or emotionally available to anyone. Dance enabled me to put on a mask. Swinging from the silky strips of fabric, I became a different person, someone unburdened by the weight of the stone walls I'd built around myself. The mask gave me permission to own my body. It brought out my sexiness and femininity, and for a few minutes, there was nothing wrong with me.
The black corset leotard was a one-piece costume that covered my torso with flexible boning, allowing me to move and expand my lungs. Hundreds of tiny black beads adorned it, making it glint under the lights. Comfortable, strong shoulder straps kept it in place and deterred my breasts from peeking out of the pretty, sweetheart neckline.
Black bottoms with lace on the front and ruffles on the back gave my attire a burlesque look. The darkness of my clothing created a sharp contrast against my fair skin and bright russet-red hair. Thick flesh-tone footless tights provided the illusion of bare legs. Smoky eyes, long fake lashes, and red lipstick complimented my curls and emphasized the constellation of freckles gracing my face.
When I danced, a rush of fervor flooded my senses because, for those eight minutes, I didn’t lack a thing. For eight minutes, I was enough.
As the music picked up its pace, I held onto the deep red fabric and ran in a circle, gaining the momentum I needed to lift my feet off the floor and fly.
I soared high and fast, no worries or pain, past or future. Only the now. The complete merging of body, mind, and soul. A sweeping acceptance of every aspect of my being. It made me happy and sad. Happy at the moment, and sad because it was fleeting. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t maintain the same state of mind while facing the world beyond my acrobatic silks. It pissed me off.
Rounding my back, I let my head fall and closed my eyes, enjoying the touch of the wind on my heated face.
Everyone’s heads faced up, watching my every move. Entranced, I absorbed the audience’s energy and funneled it into my performance. It pushed me to do my very best, giving them the finest aerial dance show they’d ever experience.
Unless they went to the Cirque du Soleil, I didn’t compare to them. This was a hobby I enjoyed as much as gardening.
When the flying lost momentum, I opened my legs, lifting them over my head and straddling the fabric as the drums in the music intensified. Then, I climbed, scattering acrobatic tricks throughout my ascension. Once I reached the top, I locked my foot in place and slid my body forward with my back resting on the stretchy material. I lifted my left leg, hooking it onto the portion of silk closest to the ceiling. With the fabric secured, I threw back my arms, guiding my spine to perform a hands-free arch. My head fell back, my long hair swaying in the air like a flag on a breezy day. Hanging perpendicular to the floor created a deep stretch in my abdominal muscles, helping me gather the strength for the big finale.
One of my favorite things about being up here was watching the crowd of people below. Their faces painted with delight and awe.
Moving my gaze to the row of beds to the left of the dance floor, I spotted Fiona with Ben, who’d been my dear friend since our college days. They gave me big smiles and thumbs-ups. I grinned, returning their love. The fabric swiveled, spinning me in place until I faced the opposite side of the room, where spectators leaned on the loft railing.
Intense eyes stared at me. They were beautiful, and even though the man’s body was obscured, the spotlights hovering above sent a soft white light that illuminated his face, allowing me to admire his features. I squinted, adjusting my focus. Desperate to see more of the handsome stranger. A short beard sheltered a strong jawline and highlighted his dazzling features. Inky black hair, a bit long, curled around his ears and neck. Large, hooded eyes locked on mine, causing my body to tense with excitement. His pointed nose and plump lips added a sophisticated allure to the ruggedness of his beard. His focus on me was powerful and intimidating, his gaze thoughtful and enigmatic. With my heart whipping in my chest, I found myself unable to look away. Everything around me seemed to fade like distant childhood memories. Like tunnel vision, making me see only him. I had the impulse to reach for the locket hanging from my neck, the one keeping me grounded when faced with overwhelming emotions. This man evoked such emotions in me, and I didn’t know why. I wanted to find out more from the safety of my perch, which proved impossible. The desire to study him up close drove the last minute of my performance. I needed to drink him in, and for that, I required light and proximity.
The man’s jaw tensed, and his gaze turned troubled and apprehensive. He bowed his head, severing our connection. Disappointed, I began to look away, when his eyes lifted with some reluctance, as if he was unsuccessful in willing them to stay down. And when they settled back on me, and his lips curved into a million-watt smile, a thrilling commotion spread through my limbs. A commotion I couldn't allow myself to have while dangling twenty feet from the ground. It had only been seconds, but it seemed like we'd stared at each other for several minutes.