Corpse Suzette

have someplace
I have to be in an hour or so,” Abby said, glancing at her watch. “I already
arranged for somebody to pick me up here and—”
    “Sh-h-h-h...” Savannah
said, finger to her lips. “It’s going to start pretty soon. They’re usually
quite punctual with the show.”
    “What show?”
    Savannah just grinned and
motioned to the waitress. “Two glasses of your house white here,” she told her.
Then, to Abby she said, “The first time I saw this, a few months ago, I was
blown away. I think you’ll really like it.”
    “What is it?”
    “Belly dancing. The real
thing, not some cheap, sleazy, Hollywood imitation.”
    “Belly dancing?!” Abby’s
nostrils flared. “You brought me to a stupid strip club?”
    “Not even close. Sit still
and watch.”
    As if on cue, the room’s
lights dimmed, and a soft blue light flooded the platform stage in front of
them.
    Music began, a slow,
sensual drumbeat that slowly increased in tempo. Other exotic sounding
instruments joined in, and the crowd began to clap in time to the rhythm.
    Abby leaned over to
Savannah and said in her ear, “If you think I’m going to sit here and watch
some skinny gal with boob implants shake her stuff in my face, you’ve got
another—”
    Savannah nudged her and
motioned to the door. “Look.”
    Through the front door of
the place came a dancer. Slowly, she made her way through the crowd to the
platform, pausing here and there to drape a brightly colored chiffon scarf
around someone’s neck, to place a kiss on a forehead, to trail her fingertips
along someone’s shoulder or tweak somebody’s hair.
    Her movements were light
and playful, energetic and bouncy, as she moved onto the stage and continued to
sway to the lively beat.
    With their seat next to the
stage, Savannah and Abby had a full view of the woman. She was middle-aged and
full-figured, more than a little overweight according to society’s current
standard. But she was exquisite.
    Her costume was a cloud of
swirling scarves of every color that floated around her when she moved. Tucked
here, gathered there, they moved along with her, accenting her every sway and
shimmy.
    As she moved around the
stage, smiling down at individual members of her audience and dropping the
scarves among them, she looked like a young girl at play, lighthearted,
carefree.
    Savannah leaned close to
the transfixed Abigail and whispered in her ear, “A real belly dance is the
story of a woman’s life,” she said. “This part represents her girlhood. She’s
clothed in innocence and happy-go-lucky, the way we all start out.”
    As the veils were dropped,
more and more of the woman’s body was revealed—her arms, encircled with golden
bracelets that jingled when she moved, her legs that, while hardly slender,
were muscular and obviously very strong as her skirt parted to reveal and then
hide them, her abdomen that rolled and moved with the beat of the music that was
slowly changing.
    The tempo slowed, the
volume increased, and the tone became less playful.
    The dancer reached down to
a nearby table, and someone in the crowd handed her a couple of candles.
    Holding one candle in each
hand she continued to dance, moving them in circles under her arms, then over
her head. Their light illuminated her skin, causing it to glow like living,
breathing, fluid gold.
    With unbelievable grace,
the woman bent backward, her long, dark hair sweeping the floor. Still holding
the candles, she sank to her knees on the stage as the other instruments faded
away, leaving only the drumbeat as accompaniment.
    From her kneeling position,
she lowered herself straight backward, until she was lying on her back... all
the time still swaying and rolling to the beat.
    “What’s she doing now?”
Abigail whispered.
    “This part represents the
travails of womanhood. The difficulties and pain we all encounter that change
us from girls into women.”
    The dancer placed the
candles on her belly and by flexing her muscles, caused them to move in time
with the drum. Her arms stretched upward, she seemed to be reaching, striving,
grasping for something just beyond her reach, then grabbing it and pulling it
toward her.
    Lifting the candles from
her abdomen, she held them in her hands again and managed to roll across the
stage, holding them level all the while, managing, keeping everything in
balance.
    Slowly she rose to her feet
and handed the candles back to the„ crowd.
    The drum beat faster and
faster, and her