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

irene adler | sherlock

[predominates]

GET INTO MY LIFE.

[playthings]

Princes knew how to throw parties. How exactly each of them were there was an issue for another day; Jim had connections just about everywhere across the world and the prince had made a very specific point of giving him an invitation hand delivered by one of his personal guard. Hardly a first, but it wasn't his style to turn his nose up at a ball that meant for mingling with the right sort of crowd.

He arrived that night with all the bells and whistles; Alexander McQueen suit and tie, custom made Italian leather shoes, cuff links and tie pin all in place. He wore the fox accents tonight, despite his need to not quite play the role; tonight was a night to make possible friends and assess the atmo, not stalk and prey on possible victims. He welcomed the change of pace to be sure, but this wasn't a den filled with the ordinary sort of people he dealt with for the most part in London. No, this was a den full of would-be wolves and he was a fox in their midst; best to hide behind a more humble decorum if he's to survive the night without new foes trailing at his heels.

The was quite the buzz about the arrival of one Miss Irene Adler. She was a thing of legend among the middle eastern dignitaries he mingled with for the first portion of the night, though many of them were put off by approaching her and refused to make the first move. But whispers and secrets told the story of a woman much more clever than the men fawning over her classic beauty (which he appreciated thoroughly to be sure) so he feigned the devouring of liquid courage (he'd never need it to approach anyone) and approached the fabled Woman with an outstretched arm.

"Would you do me the honor, Miss Adler."

IT'S PROBABLY TOO LATE TO APOLOGIZE

[predominates]

Princes always knew how to treat someone like royalty — Irene, in particular. Suddenly they were on their knees, begging to be ruled. But in the presence of others, they were all painfully dull and slaves to routine (thankfully there was a lovely waitress to keep her occupied). She never could pass up on a party though. Everything that was to come after would be the real fun. She had big plans for herself here in Dubai; and from the sounds of things, she wasn't the only one. There was talk of another Londoner amidst them.

Tonight, her appearance was nothing less than exotic. Hair pinned to an intricate perfection, dressed in a wine red Christian Dior gown with a thigh-high leg slit, and her black Louboutins, naturally. And it was not only the case in places like Dubai, but it wouldn't be biased to say she was a striking woman. She knew that and played it to her advantage. It seemed to be working as well as ever. Irene turns at the call, knowing almost instantly who all the gossip was about, besides herself.

"It's a party, isn't it? It would be rude not to." She flashes a dangerous smile, slipping her hand over his arm. "I thought no one would ever ask." With that tone and her eyes set on his, her meaning should be clear, you're different and I like that.

IT'S TOO LAAAAAAAATE (and now this song is in my head)

[playthings]

He throws her a charming smile and a lighthearted chuckle, the perfect gentlemen in the play that is just beginning. Tonight Jim Moriarty is playing an unremarkable supporting role, acting out each scene with the hopes of being no more recognizable by personality that the ivory fountain gracing the grand entryway to the hall; charming and of significant notoriety but not to be thought of in detail except in passing or to remark anecdotally on those traits. No, tonight Miss Irene Adler is the star.

He leads her with ease over to the dance floor, gliding with all eyes watching them to the very center of the gold inlay black marble. Grasping her hand gently, he gives her a twirl abut in perfect timing with the jazzy tune bellowing form the band. In one fluid motion draws her close as she leaves her pirouette, leaving but an inch between their bodies. His left hand presses to the small of her exposed back, something he doesn't bother to shy away from. It was a treat being at eye level with her, truly equals fort he time in her Louboutins.

"They say the gentlemen here worship their woman more oft from a far. It staves off temptation," he says with the hint of his accent creeping out through his smile. "But I've never been one for looking and not touching."

Smooth like honey Jim can be when he wishes, but if Irene cares to dig beneath surface she'll see the truth of her once dance partner. It's not as easy for him to consider her an equal no matter how tall the shoes, but to say she doesn't have the bearing of a queen would be a lie even for him.

[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.