This challenge was to write a fragment of a story made up entirely of imperative commands.  I chose the theme Tango.

 

    Check your reflection in an outside window; make sure everything is perfect before you go in.  Guarantee no lock out of place, no lint on your lapel, tie’s straight, shoe’s polished, breath’s fresh.  Push the double doors open when you are satisfied.

    Survey the atmosphere of the salon:  the lights, dim everywhere except over the dance floor.  Inhale the scent: an elixir of sweat blended with a myriad of perfumes and colognes.  Experience the rhythm of the music, languorous and yearning, a contradiction so unique to this Argentinean beat. 

    Scan the crowd until your eyes lock onto suitable prey – yes, that one – those cascading caramel waves entice you.  Strut past her, once, twice, till she notices you and lowers the martini glass to brush her tongue over her bottom lip.

    Approach, gaze fixed on hers as you draw near.  Say nothing; only offer your hand.  Close your fingers over hers when she accepts, and ignore the small spark of energy elicited from her touch.  Escort her out to the center of the floor. 

    Snake your other arm around her waist, and pull her closer than you should.  Let the smirk claim your face when you notice she doesn’t object…and have the confidence to ask yourself, “why would she?” 

    Command her body to move as you desire, hips left, then right; make her toes trace figure-eight’s on the floor.  Parade her around the room, stepping precisely in time with the music – it isn’t hard, this music is a part of you.  Exhibit the fine specimen in your arms by sending her in a slow procession around you.  Enjoy the display you’ve created; the way the fabric clings and drapes, the small flourish of her dress as she maneuvers one small, strapped ankle in front of the other.

    Hear the silence, as now all eyes have focused on the two of you.  Caress her silken cheek before sending her out for a spin.  Revel in the hypnosis you have created; know they are enchanted by the twirl of her skirt.  Reel her back in and hold her tight to your chest, halting her momentum with a jerk that makes her hair flutter.  Lead her into a deep cortè and hold her there as she drags her foot up your leg, then down, and as soon as her foot lands, dip her.  Pause again, now that you’re face to face, and breathe in the scent of the woman in your arms – a sultry wisp of smoky vanilla, cinnamon, and jasmine – intoxicating.  Test her flexibility by giving her the signal to lay out.  Swallow your surprise when she goes farther than you expected, bent backwards so far that her tresses brush her thigh.  Retaliate by sweeping one finger down her chin, along her sternum.  Barely touch, but feel the heat radiating from her body.

    Lose yourself in the moment.  Forget the crowd; there is only you and her, breaths matched, hearts aligned, bodies synchronized, together in the warm glow of the spotlights on the dance floor.  Tell the story of desire, love, and heartache that is this dance.  Tango.