Modern Dionysius

There were cages scattered around the spacious nightclub, dancers moving fluidly within. Above each cell was a flashing green light, timed to the music. Red lights flashed above the stage. Bodies writhed in rhythm. Over the bar twinkled shades of gold, white and blue, fading in and out before flashing randomly.

She was nursing a drink as she took in the chaotic atmosphere. Her daytime life was a string of monotony that had been soul-crushing. At least, that was how she felt until last week.

Someone from the office had invited her out. She was reluctant about coming. Bars had never quite been her scene. However, something within told her she needed to change her routine. She had been contemplating ways to revise her daily droning for some time, never quite finding something appealing.

She'd been out for dinner with her work friends more than a few times. It was enjoyable, but it was safe. Predictable. The occasional flirtations had become stale and lack-luster. No one could trust a drink from a stranger anymore. But that wasn't exciting. It was unnerving.

She scanned the dance floor, wondering if her muse would make an appearance. Two nights in a row had left her disappointed. But tonight she felt a growing giddiness stirring. Was she right? Would the stranger come tonight? Or is it just those nervous butterflies from remembering a moment of excitement? She thought back to that evening of unexpected exploration.

Last week her friends had been swept into the rhythmic flow of the club. They'd spread onto the dance floor, moving in time with the music. Although she'd been having a good time, she wasn't as moved to get out and dance. There was an energy that felt borderline oppressive. The less movement, the better. The club swayed around her. The suddenness of this disorientation was concerning.

There'd been a crescendo of energy and music in the room, catching her off guard. She got up from her seat and tried stumbling to the restroom. That was when her world titled. She had tripped over her own feet as the room spun around her. Just as she began to fall, a hand reached out, catching her.

Someone's hands pulled her into an embrace, away from the floor and the bodies in motion. It felt almost like a mother's protective hug. There was love and concern with those arms. Her nausea suddenly abated as the world stopped spinning. The unexpected arms around her felt enticing, alluring. Less disorientating.

"Just breathe," a voice whispered down to her. Finding her bearings, she took in a deep breath. The scent of this helpful person was stimulating. After a moment, she grudgingly released it with a sigh. "Better," the voice queried.

"Yes, thank you," she said as she looked up into the eyes of her new grounding force. As they held each other, she felt a deep connection forming from some unfathomable place within her memory. She was transfixed.

In those eye's she found some strange sense of recognition. Yet, she knew she had never met this person before. She would remember. Those eyes were unforgettable. They seemed to shift colors in the ever roving lights of the nightclub. But they were so intense, merry, and knowledgable all at once.

There was a sense of all the positivity in the Universe reflecting from them. She wondered to herself, "how could anyone see me with so much love"?

"What's your name, hon," the stranger asked. For a moment, she didn't realize the question was to her. "Oh, I'm Andy," she finally said.

"Well, Andy, are you feeling better?" The stranger looked down at her with concern. "So tall," Andy thought as she looked up at this splendorous being. She nodded in a delayed response to the inquiry. "That's good news. And not just because this is my place. I'm Dionysius, by the way. I hope you're truly feeling better, though. Come in back. There's a lovely sitting room. You can relax there, have something to satiate yourself." Andy hadn't even noticed that Dionysius had led her to an unassuming door as they conversed.

They entered another spacious room. As the door closed, the music became a faraway din. The lights were low, and sofas, chaise lounges, soft, comfortable-looking chairs sat arranged with a sense of quaint social groupings. Andy pondered how such a wonderful meeting place was oddly empty.

Dionysius led her to one of the sofas. Upon sitting, Dionysius reached over to the coffee table and activated a small lantern. It was a gentle light that made it look as if Dionysius had a silvery aura.

Andy was surprised when she realized a young woman was standing before her and her host. "Hello, Dion and guest. How are we tonight," she warmly inquired. "Stellar, thank you, Inga. And you," Dion responded. "I am well," Inga smiled.

"Could you bring us a bite and a nip, my love," Dion requested in a light tone, all the while staring at Andy. "Of course. Any requests, Dion," Inga asked. "No. Thank you." She gracefully turned and sauntered off into the dark end of the room. "I'm sorry, Andy, I should have asked. Are you craving anything specific? I can ask the chef to prepare anything you like."

"Oh no, I'm sure whatever Inga brings will be fine. Um, thanks," Andy said, feeling a sense of wonderment as she couldn't think of any food while looking at Dionysius. "So, you own this nightclub," she asked, trying to sound offhanded. "This and a few others, yes," Dion smiled. It was a kind smile. She had been trying to explore Dion's form but didn't want to offend her host with obvious ogling.

Dionysius was both handsome and beautiful. There was a sense of intentional androgeny. The hair was long and flowed to create a natural frame of Dion's high cheeks and square jawline. Dion wore a hint of eyeliner and possibly rouge. The flowing clothes did not help Andy determine if Dionysius was a beautiful, retro woman or a renaissance gentleman sitting before her. Not that it mattered. She felt very drawn to this being. For Andy, intimacy was about connections, not gender. She felt as though Dionysius might feel the same.

"Your question rests in the windows of your soul, my friend," Dion said with tactful grace. Andy was bemused by the statement. She somehow felt lacking and mediocre sitting next to this wise creature of beauty. If she hadn't have stumbled, Dion probably would have gone on without ever knowing she existed.

Inga was suddenly back, quietly placing food and drink on the coffee table. She then laid out elegantly folded napkins and cutlery. Inga filled Dion's glass with an amber liquid. She looked over at Andy and smiled. "I didn't get the impression you felt like drinking. So, I took the liberty of bringing coffee. Or would you prefer something else, friend?"

Coffee sounded perfect, Andy admitted aloud. "I'm Andy, by the way," she offered as Inga poured. "I know," Inga said in a knowing but not ominous tone. "Um," Andy wasn't sure how to respond to that. So she chose not to say anything else.

Inga let loose a giggle, "I didn't mean to put you off, Andy. I heard Dion say your name as I was leaving." Relieved, Andy smiled. "It's nice to have new faces. Besides, Dion has enough old friends. If you need anything, just let me know. Until later," Inga nodded and left.

"She is silent as a cat," Andy said without thinking. They both broke into laughter. When their mirth began to dwindle, Dion breathlessly offered, "I think she's rather proud of that," which kicked off another round of amusement.

Dion and Andy finally caught their breath. Any tension or unease that Andy may have held had melted away. That unusual sense of familiarity was too hard to suppress. Placing a hand upon Andy's, Dion smiled. Calm washed over her. "I'm sorry if I stole you from anyone out there. When I saw you stumble, I was concerned that maybe someone spiked your drink or something. I'm happy to see I was wrong."

"Oh, thank you for catching me. Yeah, it was a weird flow of events, honestly," Andy admitted. "I'd been sitting at the bar and just felt a bit overwhelmed. I don't know how to put it into words. It was like there was so much energy flowing through the room that I couldn't manage to absorb. I thought that finding the restroom seemed like a good idea, then the next thing I know, I'm tripping over my own feet while the floor tried to come up and meet me. I know it sounds ridiculous," she suddenly felt embarrassed.

"It's not ridiculous," Dion offered gently. "This place can have that effect on people. Didn't your friends tell you that there's an oxygen bar on site?"

"No, actually," Andy said. "But I thought those bars had little face masks for those who are here for that," she asked. Although, if there's an excess of oxygen circulating, that would explain a lot, she thought. "We have those, but have you ever tried to contain oxygen?" Dion winked, then sipped at the amber drink.

They had sat and conversed as if they had always known each other into the early morning hours. They spoke of so many things. They discussed the mundane aspects of the daily grind in a 9 to 5 world, friendships, loyalty, and expectations. They told each other of disappointments and yearnings.

She felt so comfortable talking to this relative stranger. Yet, she longed to ask why Dion would choose to spend an evening chatting with such a dull person as herself. Tactfully she said, "I'm sorry if I disrupted your plans for tonight. But truly, this has been the best night."

Dion chuckled and swiped the air as if to say it was no big deal. "I spend most nights drifting from one club to the other, making sure no one is starting any trouble. I'm not sure if I ought to say this, but I think we would have met eventually. You have an alluring aura. I would call it Kizmet."

When Andy finally left, the bar was closed, and the employees were cleaning up. A large part of her didn't want to leave. As if sensing it, Dion had offered her a room upstairs for the night. It was so very tempting, but she forced herself to decline. "Another time, maybe," she said hopefully. "It's an open invitation, Andy," Dion said. The charm Dion emitted was almost too much to refuse. She spent the rest of the weekend lost in a Dion-laden daydream.

Andy felt motivated to return by a connection which she felt compelled to nurture. She couldn't wait for Friday to arrive. So, on Wednesday night, she went to Temple D. Two nights in a row proved fruitless. Some of the staff recognized her and greeted her. Yet, she was too shy to inquire about Dion.

Unlike the nights prior, that sense of excitement flourished in the pit of her belly. It was like she could sense Dion slowly closing in. She sat in the same spot at the bar as she had each night before. Andy managed to draw upon an unexpected well of patience. Inside she felt ready to explode with trepidation. Outside, she did her best to maintain an aloof exterior.

Without warning, a soft breath warmed her neck. Dion's voice whispered in her ear, "Welcome back, Andy. Shall we?" Feeling piqued with excitement, she took Dion's hand. They lithely proceeded to the salon in back where Inga was patiently awaiting their presence. "Have you ever heard of the Maenads," Dion asked as they closed themselves off from the chaos of dancing bodies, flashing lights, and loud electronic music. The patrons danced, the staff kept the drinks flowing all while the green lights above the cages continued their ambient flashing.