Dancing is for the Soul
The night was young, perhaps more so than I had anticipated. I had business to attend to that evening, within the beautifully decorated restaurant. I was there, to settle a dispute, one very easily put to rest.
It’s true I had a purpose to be there, but I had arrived two hours early, something that happened by accident. Perhaps it was in good fortune though, because it allowed me to have some time to myself, time I could spend drinking by the darkness of the bar, admiring the lovely women who had been out slow dancing with their dates and husbands.
The restaurant was one of the higher class places in the city and everyone who attended, even myself, were clad in the fanciest of clothing such as a tuxedo or a fancy dress. This is what easily made everyone in the room feel better than the rest of the world, most people would never have the opportunity to dine and partake in luxuries such as these.
The dancing wasn't the only thing that was elegant however, there were masterly crafted chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, along with gigantic murals of famous historical people covering both the walls and the top of the building. There was even a multitude of tables, with which, many people sat around carrying conversations about their day at the office or such. It was a sight to behold, something even I, had not seen too often.
I ordered a larger glass of the aged scotch, savoring the elegant taste in my mouth. I must have looked lonely sitting there by myself, gazing at the brightly colored ballroom floor, because a pretty young lady came over to me, asking if I’d care to dance. Normally I’d have said no, but the elegant shade of blue in her eyes and her stunningly, beautiful face made me feel like it would be impossible to turn her down. I said yes, taking care to explain that I was a horrible dancer and that she soon would regret it.
She took me by the hand and dragged my reluctant body to the floor, and we took our pose. The music was done by a live orchestra, and it played very smoothly indicating that, they had practiced their routine quite extensively. I began to lead her in the Waltz, which most of the other couples were also engaged in, and carefully led her, doing so quite perfectly if I say so myself.
That’s how you reel them in, you set the standards low, and then you surpass them significantly. She’ll be more enamored by your skills, helping you to easily win over her heart. It was something I’ve practiced since I was kid, before I became the self-made man I was today.
I've reached my mid-thirties, and she looked to be several years older than I, which made me seem more extravagant than I had actually happened to be. That was the goal, to win her over, to make her night as much as she would make mine, and I could tell by the expression of her face it was working quite well. I knew, by the end of the night, I’d have her within the clutches of my hand.
The clock had struck ten faster than I had imagined, and if It hadn't been for one of the nearby waiters spilling his drink tray, I might have forgotten why I had originally arrived to the party. I told the beautiful lady that I had to go and finish a quick meeting, but that if she waited for me, I’d gladly repay the favor. She blushed, clearly indicating that she had been interested in me, and waved a little goodbye. I kissed her on the hand, and walked to the kitchen, where my meeting would take place.
The kitchen was crowded, and smelled of prime meets and beautifully, perfected vegetables, but I ignored the wondrous smells of the kitchen, and pressed through the back doors, entering into a private room that only a select few could enter. I carefully shut the door behind me, making sure the door was locked and bolted, protecting the meeting from intrusion, and notified the people inside I was ready.
The room was barren, save for a cabinet in the leftmost corner of the room, and looked to be rather unused. There were no windows, but a single light in the middle of the room, which happened to be very dim. I stood there, waiting for the return of the men, and noticed how filthy the floor had happened to be. Eventually, around six or seven minutes later, they entered from a wooden door on the right side of the room.
They had brought me a man, tied to a small, wooden chair and whom had been gagged very carefully. He had been beaten severely, showing blackened eyes, bruises on the cheeks, and even blood soaking the front of his shirt. He was looking around the dust covered room, hoping to see some kind of way to escape, and began to whimper at the sight of me, he cowered, more afraid than when I had seen him the day earlier.
“Ryan,” I said, “I hope you’re feeling better than you were yesterday. It was such a shame you weren't feeling up to talking. But, I have faith you’ll be a regular chatty Kathy tonight, won’t you lad?” He nodded, trying to tell me that he was ready to spill whatever it was I wanted.
I carefully removed the gag, and looked at him for a good moment. “So, where did you take my drugs, Ryan? Who has my drugs?” He was quiet.
“I don’t know.” He whispered it, knowing what would soon happen to him.
“Ryan, I’m a forgiving man. If you give me what it is that I want, I’ll let you go. Is that not what you want? Do you not want to see your family again?”
“I do… It’s just… I don’t know who has them! I swear, I don’t know!” His eye’s showed signs of extreme terror, tearing as he managed to scream his words at me. To be quite honest, I felt bad for the kid, or would have, had he not stolen from me in the first place he’d have been perfectly fine.
I punched him, straight in his mouth. “That isn't what I wanted to hear Ryan, you know that.” I put the gag back in his mouth and walked to one of the nearby cabinets. Carefully, I removed an apron off of the rack, and grabbed a pair of small leather gloves. Ryan was squirming in his chair, he knew what was coming, and that he was getting what the fool deserved.
I walked back to him, slipping on the gloves, and carefully placing the apron around my neck. “I didn’t want to do this Ryan. You had a choice, you just picked rather poorly.” I reached into my suit pocket, grabbing a small silenced gun, and pointed it as Ryan’s forehead.
He began to tremble with fear, and I couldn't blame him. I’d probably have done the same. I pressed it against his skin, and pulled the trigger. He was no longer with us, sad to say.
I had the men in the room dispose of him, and I quickly cleaned up myself. I put the apron away, and disposed of the gun as well. That was the end of my meeting, and I carefully exited through the kitchen, and back once again to the ballroom.
She had been sitting there, where I had enjoyed my delicious scotch, eagerly awaiting my return. I walked to her, grabbed her by the hand, and led her out to the dance floor once again.
Looking forward to what the night would soon have in store, I forgot about Ryan, about the drugs, and even the hardships that now plagued my life. Perhaps what they say is true, perhaps dancing truly is good for the soul.
