Think Twice!

“Sure, sounds good… see you at seven-thirty,” you casually agree.

Tina’s face instantly lights up like this morning’s sunrise. Rummaging around in her overstuffed handbag, she finally locates and hands over a crumpled ticket.

“My sister promised to come along to cheer me on, but apparently, she’s feeling unwell… or something.” Her voice trails off vaguely. “I didn’t think it would be your sort of thing! Check it out on my Instagram page,” she tosses over her shoulder as she exits the lunchroom.

You pause, momentarily puzzled by her cryptic comment. Meanwhile, time marches inexorably onwards. You shove any qualms to the back of your mind and return to work.

*

Next thing, Friday afternoon is fast disappearing in the rear windscreen of your car as you zip out of the car park. Tina’s little red Honda Civic is nowhere in sight. Of course! She’d be in a hurry to prepare for her big night. Is it too late for second thoughts? You were caught out, flat footed when Tina asked what you were doing tonight. “Nothing…” It sounded so lame but, Friday nights are perfect for kicking back, relaxing at home.

“Want to come along to my dance concert? I have a spare ticket, just going to waste.” Before you knew it, the ticket was in your hand without a plausible excuse to offer.

How bad can it be? you ponder. Just because you have zero dance moves doesn’t mean tonight won’t be entertaining. Hopefully, they will have a live band playing. Music’s always been much more your scene.

*

A brisk jog along the creek with your Golden Retriever, Daisy, clears the cobwebs from your cluttered mind. You feel mellow and relaxed as you wind down from a busy work week.

Why did you agree to attend this darn concert of Tina’s tonight? Is it too late to pull out now? Her sister has already ditched. You just don’t have the heart to disappoint Tina too. Reluctantly, you fling some clothes on and brace yourself before heading back into the humid night. All being well, you’ll be home at a decent hour… early enough to read a few chapters of the riveting mystery novel you’re in the middle of.

*

After dilly dallying so long, you’re cutting it fine and arrive with minutes to spare. The old town hall is lit up with strings of lights, offering a semblance of welcoming festivity. Inside, fifty or so folding chairs huddle up close to the elevated wooden stage. Just as you’re about to slink into a vacant seat in the back row, Tina excitedly appears by your side.

“You’re here! I didn’t think you’d come,” she chirps. Clasping your elbow, she tows you right up to the front row. With a sinking heart, you collapse into the waiting seat. All hope of a discreet escape has fled.

Then, music blares loudly; the audience murmurs and feet shuffle behind the thick, maroon curtain before it slowly draws open. Stage lights illuminate and almost blind you as they swing around the area before your dazzled startled eyes.

What?

Where are the ballet, hip-hop, ballroom, square dance, jazz dance costumes? Involuntarily, your eyes close in horror shock and disbelief.

You don’t have any sisters. You didn’t grow up sharing a bedroom with anyone. You’re totally unaccustomed to scantily clad bodies, let alone such bodies flouncing and cavorting around just a few inches in front of your upturned face. The music is surprisingly good, but unfortunately, it’s the only good surprise in sight… tonight!

Oh dear, where to look...

Sequins sparkle and shine. Feathers flutter and fly. Long legs leap and lung. Arms arch and angle… artistically? Five seconds of jiggling, bouncing, exposed flesh is interminable. The flurry of movement is an eternity of torment. Amidst her dance troupe, Tina prances, pouts and primps this way and that… aglow with exertion and excitement. She actually seems to be enjoying herself. Unlike you. Sensory overload!

Why didn’t you cut your run short and use the time to take a quick squiz at her Instagram post beforehand? Your gaze skitters left and right…anywhere except front and centre. Can you just cut and make a run for it? Not really. How embarrassing!

Burlesque dancing? Is that what they call this? Surely there’s a limit to helping a workmate out? But… in fairness, Tina did try to warn you!

Just as you almost lose the battle to quell your queasy stomach, the curtains swish closed on a crescendo of music. One shaky hand massages your clammy forehead in a vain attempt to unclench the vice clamped around your skull.

*

Tina flops into the seat beside you. Rivulets of sweat run down her glistening body. It’s a struggle to plaster a sickly smile on your shell-shocked face.

“Thanks!” She beams proudly, accepting the compliment she clearly feels is her due.

You’re utterly exhausted without having danced a single step! Meanwhile, Tina looks like she’s wired to dance the night away. What a thought! Please... NO!

You’ve reached exceeded your limit. Croaking out an almost incoherent, excuse about not feeling well, you stagger off home to the comforting ministrations of your mystery novel.

Tonight, has knocked the stuffing out of you.

*

Tina was right… this isn’t your thing!

*

Written for the challenge below: