meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

[the]

slow dancing ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ a meme → COMMENT WITH YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME, FANDOM, AND PREFERENCE. → PICK A CHARACTER YOU WANT TO TAG AND GO FOR IT. → PLAY NICE; NO WANK, FLAMES, OR GENERAL HUMBUGGERY. ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ the deal FORMAL OR INFORMAL, WITH MUSIC OR WITHOUT, YOU COULD BE AT A GLAMOUROUS GALA WHILE A SINGER CROONS SOFTLY OR IN THE SILENCE OF YOUR OWN LIVING ROOM. WHEREVER YOU ARE, YOU HAVE THE URGE TO DANCE. DID YOU ASK YOUR PARTNER OR DID THEY ASK YOU? HAVE YOU GOT TWO LEFT FEET OR IS THE VIENNESE WALTZ YOUR JAM? IT COULD BE AWKWARD, IT COULD BE ROMANTIC. EITHER WAY IT'S CUTE AS HELL.

Comments

[predominates]

Oh, he was all charm and wit — even wittier than most — and something else. Something quite predatory. It was intriguing, but not something she could entirely read just yet, which was also new. It was like stepping outside for fresh air but only to be pushed into a corner. Thankfully, Irene was ever the fearless woman, or rather her mask was. There is no indication that she has any suspicions about him. In fact, if he was as dangerous under that McQueen suit, and susceptible to her own games of power and play, then this would be a bonus to her already productive evening.

As she's softly spun across the floor, train of her dress gliding behind her, she knows eyes are on her. Better make it a good performance. With a firm grip, her fingers close around his hand and one Louboutin slides between his feet, leg slightly pressed against his. "How dull for them." The inch between them disappears. Her eyebrows raise in both interest and challenge. "But neither have I," she counters, just as the music picks up and she sweeps back. They're off, and Irene takes the lead.

[playthings]

Ah, and there's The Woman peeking out from behind the facade. It's subtle, her taking control of their dance, but Jim allows it with a quirk of a smirk on his face. It's easy to act enchanted (no, more attracted because she seeks out the carnal not the romantic) when Irene is capable of exuding so much allure with each step on the dance floor. Were Jim a weaker man he would succumb to her the moment that leg peeked out from between the slit in her dress.

"Oh they are all dull, I've spent the day listening to them," he says, ignoring all the eyes now fixed on them in the center of the room. The shimmering material of her dress is slick against his suit though he's thankful for the low cut at the back so he can keep the semblance of his leading with a steadying had at the small of it. All for show. "You seem to be a master of it."

Swiftly Jim retakes the reigns, pushing her weight gently into his arm while he shifts his legs into position, a fluid and practiced motion that drops her into a perfect and somewhat low dip. He holds that position, staring down at her with those deep penetrating eyes, head not tilted down towards her but, rather, with a elevated chin. Power. From here, in his hands, she's a surprisingly delicate, slight thing that smells of rose water and powder. Just a woman. "I like that very much."

Just as swiftly, she's drawn back up to a stand and Jim is back to his charming self.