Over the last day or so, I’ve generated another four thousand plus words in the Guardian Noon segment of the new novel. Part of it takes place at an SCA event called Gulf Wars that takes place, each year, in Lumberton, Mississippi. After all the events during the day, much of the populace likes to relax around a campfire, play drums and enjoy the belly dancers. That is where we start this, brief excerpt.
They started to pick up the beat a little and the women, now warm, tossed their cloaks aside. Each of them was wearing some variation of the standard belly dancer’s costume. This consisted of a brightly colored bra and panty set that had been covered in beadwork and fringe of various styles., a jingling coin girdle, soft shoes and zills, or finger cymbals. They danced in a circle, in front of the drummers and when Betty finally came around and was standing in front of Ron, she spun around, swirled the cloak aside and let it fly into a pile by his chair. He almost lost the beat when he saw her. She was wearing her Felicia costume and dancing with the same wild abandon as the other dancers. The only concessions she had given to the dance were a pair of zills and a glittering coin girdle. After two more tunes, all the dancers had a thin sheen of sweat that made them glow in the candle and fireplace light. When the last whispers of drum had faded away, Betty dropped to all fours, crouched with her head bowed and caught her breath. A few moments passed and she looked up, locked eyes with Ron and started, ever so slowly, crawling on all fours, never losing track of his eyes, until she was kneeling, between his legs. She put her hands on his upper thighs and smiled up at him.
“For more than a year, you have been avoiding being alone with me by using the excuse I was underage. My eighteenth birthday was two weeks ago, so that is no longer a consideration, sir. Understood?”