The Dancers

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To start with I thought they were dancing salsa, and then jive, but the more I watched the less sense I could make of their steps. Not that it mattered; they were making perfect sense of them. A live band was playing on the square and this couple were dancing like no one was watching. They were all flicks and kicks, jerks and skips, their moves were organised chaos, their bodies working together as if joined by the rhythm, as if they were born to dance together. She wasn't beautiful, but her carefree sprit and the rhythm made her beautiful. He wouldn't have stood out in a crowd, but thanks to his moves all the girls wanted to be his dance partner. They oozed sexuality, making love to each other through the medium of dance, their moves building to climax.

The band finished their song and the couple embraced, hugged each other and then wrenched themselves apart and turned to their friends who were all smiles for the two performers. A taller guy in skinny jeans embraced the girl, making a show of kissing her; marking his territory. There was a smile on his face but not in his eyes. He said something to dancing boy, the rest of the gang forced a laugh trying to make sure his words were light-hearted. The dancer shrugged off the words, already dancing alone to the next song, not interested in the skinny guy’s jealousy. But skinny guy was not in a forgiving mode.  He still smiled but now the smile was somehow sinister. He stepped towards dancing boy and took a swing. New chaotic moves followed, all punches and kicks, slaps and fists. They oozed stupidity. This time I could tell what they were trying to do, but their moves made imperfect sense.
The girls were screaming, the other boys were trying to pull their warring friends apart. The music over, the dance done,  bloody and bruised they separated. Skinny had made his point, dancer had stood his ground but the girl was no where to be seen, so who had won?