A smile crosses my face as I see our Queen of the Lyre sitting alongside the band strumming a very strange looking instrument. Nin looks up and smiles, waving me over to sit next to her.

"Nin, I'm so sorry to be late, but I... well, we... " I stop short with a fiery blush as I realise that I should not be revealing the reasons for my tardiness. Nin just laughs and holds out the strange wooden instrument for me to see.

"Good morning, Voluptua!" she twinkles at me. "When you suggested collaborating on a new dance and music, I immediately thought of this thing that I picked up somewhere in my travels." She giggles. "Look! It even has the shape of a woman."

It does! I stare at it in astonishment. The shape is indeed the hourglass figure of a fully ripened woman!

I hug our string playing genius, then vault to the stage. "Play it for me, this music of yours! I must hear it and let it teach me."

I long ago learned that the body, given its freedom to respond, will come of its own accord to the very essence, the truth of the dance. I close my eyes and listen to the first wild notes of this new music and I am immediately enthralled, my body moving tentatively, then more surely to the unusual rhythms. Such passion, such fire, such sensuality. I abandon myself to the dance.

I feel my spine straighten, that imaginary string that threads the spine of a dancer and rises through the top of the head pulled tauter than it has ever been. There will be no bending in this dance, no surrender. The movement is all below. I feel my hips move in tiny waves, a gentle sway, my feet tapping in accord with the pulsing beat. Yes, that's it.

My hands raise above my head, outstretched. Nothing must distract from the beautiful fully revealed line of the body. My fingers snap in a counterpoint to the melody. No, perhaps not counterpoint, perhaps a complement, and I change the rhythm. Not quite. It needs more, it needs... clapping! Yes! My hands beat a new melody entertwined with the beat of feet upon the floorboards.

And now an adagio, much needed for the dancer, a respite from the vigour and intensity of the heart of this wonderful song. I close my eyes and imagine the swirl of birds' wings, spiraling, dipping as they ride the currents of air. Sweeping, twirling, seductive, calling to a mate. Catch me, fly with me, if you are man enough, if you dare.

The haughtiness, the disdain, the majesty totally absorb me as the dance develops, my body creating all the passion of that age old story of proud women and virile men. My body, strong, female, invites the man, but only a man equally strong into the dance of love, the dance of meeting and mating...

As the last strains die away, I stand poised on the stage, body trembling with aroused passion, nostrils flaring, knowing that we are creating something truly remarkable. I hear ...call out to me, "Wonderful, wonderful. You look like an elegant flamingo up there in your pink clothes."

Hmmmmm... flamingo. I think. No, that's not quite it. We need a name for this new performance, another gift for Oset, and hopefully so unique that it will be a drawing card all over Alexandria. The name needs to be more staccato, hotter than pink, something that suggests passion, flames. Yes!

I laugh delightedly. "I've got it, Nin. We're going to call it 'Flamenco'!"

Music:
Flamenco