BELLY DANCING UP CLOSE

"Dance to inspire, dance to freedom, life is about experiences so dance and let yourself become free."

― Shah Asad Rizvi

"Good gentlemen here are your ordered two cups of the fine Syrian wine," said Sayyid as he put the two cups of wine on the table occupied by Ambrose Henri and Jean Pierre.

Ambrose Henri picked up the cup next to him, lifted it to his nose, and sniffed the sweet aroma. It had a flavor similar to over-ripe grapes which had fermented for a few days. Indeed, what Sayyid said is true. It is sweet like grapes.

"Good gentlemen, enjoy your wine and the upcoming show. Shall bring you the balance later on. Is that okay with you?" Sayyid asked while looking at Ambrose Henri with a smile.

He had seen that this gentleman was the one calling the shots. Sayyid had the balance with him but was not willing to hand it over, it could be easy for them to keep on ordering more wine so long as he had their money. Having seen how stingy they were, should he hand over the balance, they could stop on these two cups of wine.

The two silver deniers, that they had given him were enough to get them 10 cups of the cheap Syrian wine or 8 cups of the fine Lebanon wine. At first, he had thought they lacked money, but having received the two silver deniers; he just knew they were just stingy.

"It's alright Sayyid. We shall order more wine later on, for now, keep the change." Ambrose Henri spoke up while taking a sip of the sweet Syrian wine.

"Enjoy, in case you need anything. Just call for me." Sayyid bowed respectfully before walking away.

Henri Ambrose turned to Jean Pierre. He was deep in thought as he watched Sayyid walk away. "My brother, try out this wine. The taste is good and sweet."

"Alright, no rush." Jean Pierre responded in an absent-minded tone. He was not happy that the attendant Sayyid had not given them back the balance, pretending that he was not having change. He wanted to voice out his discontent but decided to play cool since Ambrose Henri wanted to play the part of wealthy patrons on his money.

"Come on Jean, cheer up." Ambrose Henri told him when he saw that he had a slight frown on his face.

"If it is about the money, there is no need to worry. I do not think he will disappear with our balance." Ambrose Henri tried to alleviate Jean Pierre's fears.

"No worries Ambrose, am just trying to play the part as we agreed." Jean Pierre replied as he picked up the cup of wine and took his first sip.

The inner tent curtain behind the musicians parted, and a middle-aged man smartly dressed in Seljuk gold embroiled robe with circular patterns came out of it, he walked confidently and slowly with a smile on his face. He had long dark hair falling up to the shoulders. He was tall about six feet with an aura of authority about him.

"Esteemed gentlemen, welcome to the main show of the night. Hope you are having a good time in the house, am Darius the owner of this place." He announced in a loud voice with a Persian accent.

"Do not die of thirst, we have the finest wines in Arabia, there's also the aromatic tea from the far east as well as the spicy coffee from Ethiopia. Our attendants are moving around to serve you." He pointed at the young men moving around to receive orders.

"At only twenty to twenty-five bronze deniers, you can choose between Syrian or Lebanese wine."

"Without wasting too much of your time, let me welcome the adorable belly dancers whom you have all been waiting for. I assure you, you will love them." The men in the tent cheered when he told them the much eagerly awaited belly dancers were coming up.

The curtain to the inner tent parted for a second time.

A group of eight beautiful young ladies with slender figures walked out elegantly, accompanied by the sound of musical instruments with each step they took.

They were dressed in scarlet silk skirts which flowed up to their ankles, the skirts were spaciously adorned with glittery jewels attached to the hip section, and matching short-sleeved wrap top covered only their bosoms. Leaving the stomach, navel, and backside skin exposed.

The belly dancers stopped in the space in front of the men playing the musical instruments, this space had been reserved for them.

The few seconds in which they stood motionless in front of the audience. Brought out the tension in the audience. No one talked, and some men who were sipping on their wine or tea paused with the cups in their hands. No one wanted to miss the following actions. Having waited for hours, the belly dancers were finally about to start.

The Doumbek drums started playing with the other instruments. The group of eight young ladies parted into two sections. Each section was made up of four, they faced each other and began dancing to the tune of the music.

Gyrating their slender waists up and down as they moved around in a circle. The jewels on their skirts reflected the lamp lights with each shake of their hips.

The tempo of the music increased slightly and they danced to the beat while merging the two sections before turning to face the audience. Accompanied by hand claps from the audience, the belly dancers danced while slowly going down on their knees until they knelt on the floor. With outstretched arms, their bountiful bosoms shook with the music from left to right and back, before moving their stomach back and forward in a sensual way.

This drove the audience crazy with cheers and handclaps. Ambrose Henri was not left out, he jumped out of his seat and brought his hands together to clap. Unfortunately for him, he forgot that he was holding a cup of wine in one hand. As he brought his hands together, the wine in the cup held in his right hand poured onto the floor and some of it fell on him.

"Oops! This can't be happening." He cried when realized what he had done. He put the now empty cup back on the table and tried to wipe the wine off his clothes.

No one paid any attention to him. All the focus was on the charming belly dancers dancing gracefully to the music.

When Ambrose Henri brought his attention back to the belly dancers. They had arisen from the floor and were now skipping on their bare feet from left to right while swaying their uplifted hands to the newest beat coming from the Doumbek drums.

By now. The belly dancers' beautiful olive to fair skins were coated with a thin sheen of sweat from all the passionate dance moves, and their skin weakly glowed in the dim lamplight as they swayed and rotated their waists back and forth, up and down.

"Wow, this is awesome!" Jean Pierre shouted as he watched them.

"That is what real belly dancing looks and feels like my brother." Ambrose Henri patted him on the back as he always marveled at the dance rhythm.

"Look at that!" Ambrose Henri nudged Jean Pierre to watch closely the newest dance move from the belly dancers.

They had turned their backs on the audience. Hands lifted in an arched formation till the fingers were joined. Highlighting the curve of their figures and beautiful waistlines. The belly dancers were jumping above and down while turning their heads left and right, making their flowing hair and skirts sway to each move they made.

Soon, they turned around to face the audience with happy expressions on their faces. They danced. Swaying their waists and bellies seductively with each forward step they took, all the while drawing closer and closer to the audience; as if beckoning them to come closer and share the dance with them.

When they stopped. They were just hand's length away from the people seated at the front tables.

This drove the men crazy more so those who were drunk. They could see up close and in full detail, all the eight women. Their hips gyrating phenomenally.

Ambrose Henri who was seated at the front, felt as if they were dancing specifically for him alone. The smiles on their face and the beautiful and graceful motions of their bodies had him hooked.

His throat dried up, without taking his eyes off the belly dancers. He picked his cup of wine to swallow some, to wet his throat. However, when he drank from the cup, he realized it was empty. The attendant Sayyid was not in sight, not wanting to take his sight off the belly dancers. He picked up the closet cup with wine belonging to Jean Pierre and gulped all of it at once before putting back the cup. Somehow relieved.

Never had he seen such a thing before. The dances he had enjoyed during his nobleman life in Paris such as the Burgundy dance, egg dance, Pavan, Quadrille, or the less known folk dances were all gorgeous but now they looked like nothing compared to this belly dance before him. This belly dancing was refined, graceful, and splendidly drawing attention to the beautiful aspects of their femininity. As if telling him. See, here we are as women, are we not beautiful? Don't we deserve to be happy?