impatience for the moment when she would turn and challenge the mysterious, powerful drummer on a stage empty of other dancers.
Suddenly the lights came up onstage, making Nicole’s hair blaze from crown to hip as though each strand was truly made of fire. Murmurs of “Pele” raced through the audience, telling her that they hadn’t expected her to appear this late in the night’s entertainment.
The panpipes unleashed a husky, triumphant sound that was more electrifying than a shout.
The drummer hesitated for an instant, then settled in with the assurance of a river of molten stone pouring swiftly down to a waiting sea.
As had happened the night before, advanced dancers came forward to challenge one another, then fell away one by one until only Sam was left to face Pele. The drums slowed to a languid, almost taunting rhythm that exactly echoed the lithe motions of Nicole’s hips as she danced barefoot into the spotlight. Grass whispered and rustled rhythmically in her hands, underlining each fluid movement of her torso. The ginger lei swayed against her breasts, caressing her skin with smooth, cool petals.
The rhythm of the drums changed subtly, picking up speed without losing either its clarity or its oddly taunting quality.
Hips gracefully swaying, she danced for a few moments with her back to the drummer before she turned the stage over to Sam with a flip of the thick grass tassels she held in her hands.
The panpipes picked up the challenge, urging Sam to greater and greater efforts. Smiling, he moved sinuously, quickly, with the muscular grace and potency possible only to a male dancer.
Nicole copied his motions, her hands speaking teasingly to him with every rustle of grass, her hips easily keeping pace with his.
The drumbeat reached a peak, paused, then started again with redoubled speed.
Sweat began to gleam on Sam’s body, making him look like a beautiful polished idol. He leaped up and came down closer to Nicole. With every ripple and twist, his well-conditioned body spoke to her of the joys that would come when she stopped leading him on this sensual chase.
As an answer, she turned her back and danced, letting him see the grace and power of the hips that would never belong to him, for he was merely mortal, and Pele demanded something more of her lovers.
With a low cry, he jumped in front of her again, trying to entice her to give the contest and herself to him. At each beat, each thrusting rotation of his hips, he came closer to her, coaxing her senses with his display of strength and grace and sexuality.
Smoothly, heartlessly, the goddess Pele flicked her hips and picked up the pace in the same instant that the drummer did. For her, the sensation of neither leading nor following the rhythm was extraordinary, as though drummer and dancer were somehow joined. Eyes half closed, she tilted her head back and smiled like a woman opening herself for a lover.
She didn’t see Sam’s eyes narrow in male response, nor did she see the sudden tension in the drummer’s body as her elemental smile ripped through him. She sensed only that the rhythm would change soon, becoming even faster, drumming Sam right off the stage, leaving only Pele and the drummer who courted her with every beat of their joined hearts.
Even as the change in rhythm came, she met it. Her body shimmered with life and sensual fire. Her hips described flashing, rhythmic arcs that were so quick no individual motion could be seen.
For a minute, then two, Sam stayed with her, but he couldn’t keep up the pace. With a mingled cry of defeat and celebration, he sank to the stage with the other spurned dancers.
When Nicole turned to face the unknown drummer, there was an instant of hush, like a missed heartbeat. She held her arms out. Her body moved seductively beneath the silky fire of her hair.
Staccato rhythms poured out of the drums with renewed speed and potency, taunting her, daring her. Her hips moved in response, matching each
Suddenly the lights came up onstage, making Nicole’s hair blaze from crown to hip as though each strand was truly made of fire. Murmurs of “Pele” raced through the audience, telling her that they hadn’t expected her to appear this late in the night’s entertainment.
The panpipes unleashed a husky, triumphant sound that was more electrifying than a shout.
The drummer hesitated for an instant, then settled in with the assurance of a river of molten stone pouring swiftly down to a waiting sea.
As had happened the night before, advanced dancers came forward to challenge one another, then fell away one by one until only Sam was left to face Pele. The drums slowed to a languid, almost taunting rhythm that exactly echoed the lithe motions of Nicole’s hips as she danced barefoot into the spotlight. Grass whispered and rustled rhythmically in her hands, underlining each fluid movement of her torso. The ginger lei swayed against her breasts, caressing her skin with smooth, cool petals.
The rhythm of the drums changed subtly, picking up speed without losing either its clarity or its oddly taunting quality.
Hips gracefully swaying, she danced for a few moments with her back to the drummer before she turned the stage over to Sam with a flip of the thick grass tassels she held in her hands.
The panpipes picked up the challenge, urging Sam to greater and greater efforts. Smiling, he moved sinuously, quickly, with the muscular grace and potency possible only to a male dancer.
Nicole copied his motions, her hands speaking teasingly to him with every rustle of grass, her hips easily keeping pace with his.
The drumbeat reached a peak, paused, then started again with redoubled speed.
Sweat began to gleam on Sam’s body, making him look like a beautiful polished idol. He leaped up and came down closer to Nicole. With every ripple and twist, his well-conditioned body spoke to her of the joys that would come when she stopped leading him on this sensual chase.
As an answer, she turned her back and danced, letting him see the grace and power of the hips that would never belong to him, for he was merely mortal, and Pele demanded something more of her lovers.
With a low cry, he jumped in front of her again, trying to entice her to give the contest and herself to him. At each beat, each thrusting rotation of his hips, he came closer to her, coaxing her senses with his display of strength and grace and sexuality.
Smoothly, heartlessly, the goddess Pele flicked her hips and picked up the pace in the same instant that the drummer did. For her, the sensation of neither leading nor following the rhythm was extraordinary, as though drummer and dancer were somehow joined. Eyes half closed, she tilted her head back and smiled like a woman opening herself for a lover.
She didn’t see Sam’s eyes narrow in male response, nor did she see the sudden tension in the drummer’s body as her elemental smile ripped through him. She sensed only that the rhythm would change soon, becoming even faster, drumming Sam right off the stage, leaving only Pele and the drummer who courted her with every beat of their joined hearts.
Even as the change in rhythm came, she met it. Her body shimmered with life and sensual fire. Her hips described flashing, rhythmic arcs that were so quick no individual motion could be seen.
For a minute, then two, Sam stayed with her, but he couldn’t keep up the pace. With a mingled cry of defeat and celebration, he sank to the stage with the other spurned dancers.
When Nicole turned to face the unknown drummer, there was an instant of hush, like a missed heartbeat. She held her arms out. Her body moved seductively beneath the silky fire of her hair.
Staccato rhythms poured out of the drums with renewed speed and potency, taunting her, daring her. Her hips moved in response, matching each
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