The mood outside of the dance club, was cold and still, but Keith was more akin to the mood inside it, heated and lively. He quickly gave the cab driver all the cash in his pocket. It wasn't the most polite gesture, but it was also more than the fare required. He owed it to the driver for asking him to run a few red lights which he did. The young dancer was running late, having overslept at his apartment. It was rare for him to do that before a job, but Penny and Camille had gotten him a lot of work in the fall as he asked for. Contrary to how Camille always praised him and remained unsurprised that he would get work, it surprised him that he would feel so quickly overworked. If he didn't love what he did, he'd probably would've stayed in bed and accepted whatever consequences came. But he did love to dance; he wondered how much he would love his next job running late with little prep time.
Denise had set up a big Halloween gig and asked Keith to be a last-minute centerpiece in it all, thanks to a recommendation from his lover. It would be some sort of special theme that Halloween, or so he was told. The specifics he didn't know much about, and had planned to be there two hours earlier than then to get briefed. At least he was smart enough to have everything at the club ready for him instead of rummaging through his closets the moment he woke up in a panic.
The club was already booming, Keith could tell from the outside. Inside, it looked to be a full house everybody already into the Halloween swing of things, costumes, drinks and and dances that told him how much alcohol some had already consumed, or how lost people were getting in the base rather than the music itself. His classical education of music and dance made Keith's sensibilities lean almost toward an elitist perspective on things, and he could bore a crowd to tears on what music and dance theory, exercises for prep, how he'd been taught to let ones body react to the music; he managed to produce the opposite effects of his dance when he talked about it.
He knew it was funny to be that way, a classical background while moonlighting as a successful erotic male dancer. The two clashed hard to most, but he was one of the few among his classmates to love dancing over the prestige and what others would call "respectability." It helped that he got the most honest feedback as a stripper. He knew better to keep all he could talk about to himself, but couldn't help himself with those who understood. Camille had obviously been one of those people, and he found her so easy to open up to in conversation. He nearly did talk her head off while she just smiled and seemingly took all his nerdy fascination with dancing in. He knew he could get away with it being so handsome, but she was remarkably beautiful, even before she started dancing. Once he was done talking on their first date, he asked her what she thought of everything that came pouring out of him. Her response was to turn on the stereo and start a dance of her own. She brought her perspective on dance out in the open the best way she could, the way she knew people would helplessly respond. By the end of hers, Camille asked Keith in kind
"What do you think?"
She smirked as she asked, knowing his mind was far gone by then, lost in her rotating curves and thrilling belly dance. After that, there was no dance or dancer he preferred more than Camille and her enchanting art in motion. He dreamed about them and that first night often. Admittedly, he relived that first date in a nap earlier that Halloween, plus more that he wished would happen with her in his wildest dreams. He didn't want to leave the dream until something nagged at him regarding Camille, and woke in a start that got him to the club.
Keith ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, figuring Camille to be somewhere in the club dancing, hoping to find her soon for prep and hoping that dreaming of their first date again was a good excuse for being late. That was if she could be found. His eyes were lost in what was a sea of light cream or white colors. Pirate outfits, togas, princesses, ghosts, all your typical Halloween costumes, nearly the whole crowd was decked out in a coordinated color scheme, with some exceptions. Keith realized that his cream-colored jacket blended in despite the blue jeans, laughing at how he was at least half-prepared for the party.
Denise was in the DJ booth, looking like Marilyn Monroe complete with the white dress. Above her was a banner.
"Not everything is black or white. Except on Hallow's Eve!"
He waved to Denise who spotted him, pointing annoyingly at the watch on her arm. He mouthed "sorry" to her, and tried to make his way to the back when she pointed toward one of the few odd, dark spots among the crowd. Keith immediately recognized the caramel hair moreso, and moved to meet Camille.
He got closer to see what she was dressed as. A simple coal-black peasant top and gown flowing down past her knees, she looked and danced like a dark, sexy gypsy. The top was high enough to give a nice display of midriff. Keith loved how she looked, so lost in the motions that she didn't even sense him nearby. That's what made him think of her as more than a kindred spirit; she wasn't just an artist, she was the work of art. And as much as he was tempted to watch her art unfold and change appropriately as the song did somewhere along the line, he reached out to touch her shoulder.
He almost screamed out to call her name, but the base of the music was suddenly gone and what sounded like classic orchestra began to play, something familiar to him. She turned her body and gave Keith a confusing shock. Everything was right about her, except her face, because it wasn't Camille, but Penny's face. He took in all of her, wondering how he'd been duped so easily to believe it was Camille. The wig was very convincing, and the belly piercing was perplexing, showing off a "CA" with no other context to explain. Penny smiled at him, somewhere between playful and sexy. She quickly shifted around his arms and got to his left side, to whisper in-time with the song lyrics ringing through the club's speakers.
"I put a spell on you."
Hands waved in-front of his face as if to convince him of magic being weaved right before his eyes. Magic seemed like a palpable explanation for how Penny managed to copy Camille's movements so well. He knew Penny was always angling to learn exactly how Camille does what she does so well; he never knew she'd started on lessons let alone became such a quick learner. He was left raptured in all she was showing him, attentive only to her shifting and not the crowd's, finding himself unconsciously opening up not unlike the open space they now occupied, impressed and waiting to see where this was going.
"Because you're mine."
Was whispered to his right side, unconsciously making him turn away to find Penny at his right side. Only it wasn't Penny. She'd looked familiar, something to do with this club and Camille at some point, one of the holidays before, maybe Valentine's day. June, his mind came up with, not knowing if that was her name or the month he'd seen her. When he'd seen her before was temporary thought drowned out by taking in all of her appearance, easily another physical Camille doppelganger, down to the caramel wig, the dance, and costume. The only real difference seemed to be how June had a fuller face than Camille, how it looked like she was succumbing, utterly surrendering to the music more than Camille had, with her eyes closed and head tilted back as if taking in as much pleasure as she was giving. He barely noticed the belly piercing being different with "MI" attached to it. His eyes loved the emphasis her hips gave, as if trying to put her piercing ahead of herself. Unthinkingly, part of him reached for her, forgetting it wasn't Camille.
"You better stop the things you do"
Before he could reach out or anymore thought could be spared to contemplate the dwindling fact that it was June dancing, a dark, thin shawl softly pulled against his face from behind. The dancer before him and her surroundings were a dark mass with the only brightness being a few bright spotlights from the ceiling circling him, and the clothing of the crowd. When the silk shawl disappeared, a new doppelganger appeared before him. Same kind of wig, but he could tell this was a dancer he'd never met before. Her younger face, natural blonde eye-brows, a height slightly shorter than Camille's on tipped-toes, and her bold steps that seemed to adapt to slower music than she was used to, but made it work with passionate energy.
