From Across the Room By: Jessica M. Moonflower Rated: PG-13 This was written based on an artwork I saw at a museum. It was a writing exercise in general and the students had to write a poem or vignette from the artist's perspective. I hope you enjoy it. Flashes of gold continued to torment Philip. He could never forget Lola that hot summer night in July. Her bronze skin shimmered like golden flecks of sunlight. The cocktail dress she wore enhanced her natural radiance. These were small, insignificant details, but it was these details that allowed him to remember her. Before Philip encountered Lola, he was in search of inspiration. His photos were lacking the usual life and emotion he used to capture in his previous works. Philip wanted to capture something different. Bold. Seductive. Dangerous. Something he never caught on film before. The intense longing to astonish people, including himself, led him to a rundown Cuban nightclub called Libre. The obvious abrasion on Libre's white stonewalls and its tacky neon sign was a stark contrast to the row of sleek and sophisticated clubs before it. Despite the worn structure, Philip was compelled to go inside. Libre was a new experience for him. The club had everything he was looking for. Maybe even more. The women of Libre had enough sex appeal to burn the whole club down with a shake of their curvaceous hips. They enticed their partners to follow them on the dance floor with a smoldering look and the ripeness of their pouty red lips. Traces of desire and passion mixed with the subdued club lights and were mirrored in the men's dark eyes. They easily followed every move and touch the women flirtatiously and unabashedly tossed their way. It was a game of seduction. Women would whisper sweet words of love and devotion into the men's ears as their warm breath brushed over their highly sensitive necks. The men in turn would find every excuse to press their dance partner closer to their bodies with a gentle tug or a smooth dancing move. The women of Libre caught on to their coy trick and teasingly widened the gap between them until the men kept coming back for more. It was an expected tug-of-war that happened nightly at Libre. In the very dark and back corner of the club the shadiest of men drank and socialized. These men were dressed up in their sharpest suits and had women draped on each of their arms. The scent of their musky colognes and tequila drinks was so overpowering that it almost stifled the whole room. The men spoke to each other in Spanish and one of them occasionally darted their eyes around the room to reassure themselves that no one was eavesdropping on their very private conversation. Philip heard rumors throughout the club that those men were involved in the most dangerous of business ventures. Some said it was drugs while others believed it was prostitution. Whatever it was, Philip was wise to avoid those men and to blend in with the crowd as much as possible. Philip sat in a booth situated against the back wall. The whiskey he ordered was left untouched on the table while he toyed with the camera on his lap. He was careful not to flash it around. Philip didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea, especially in a place like this. If he wanted to take a couple of pictures here, he had to be discreet about it and remain out of sight. A blinding flash of gold caught the corner of his eye, and he turned slightly to see a lovely vision standing alone at the bar. She wore a sparkling gold sequined dress with a burst of sun designs adorning the fabric. The dress ended at mid-thigh and showed off her long tan legs. Her hair was a waterfall of long brown waves, which she flipped back from her face. One of her slim wrists was encased in multi-colored bracelets from black to purple. She clutched a small gold purse in her hands, and turned her head to the side where Philip sat. Philip studied her face and was taken aback by her beautiful but sad mocha brown eyes. An ordinary bystander from afar would not have noticed, but he caught it. After photographing people for as long as he did, he learned how to discern people's expressions with precision and ease. He slowly stood up from the booth and casually strolled behind the red curtain near the bar. Philip made sure no one was around before positioning his camera in between the small slit the curtain left open to snap a picture of the radiant woman in gold. He took a couple of quick snapshots of her and returned to his seat before anyone realized what he did. Philip wanted to know the name of the woman in gold. He yearned to talk to her and learn everything about her. She looked around the club watching other couples twirl and laugh while she remained so withdrawn from everyone else. Philip noticed the dullness in her eyes. Her expression was more hollow and lifeless. Although the woman in gold stood out more than any other woman at Libre, her loneliness struck a cord in his heart. He felt drawn to her like no woman had ever mesmerized him before. The woman was mysterious. It frightened and excited Philip at the same time, but he wanted to work his way into her heart slowly. But before he could do that, he needed to know her name. A stocky bartender past Philip's table and he quickly called him back. The bartender walked a few steps backwards holding a crate of empty beer bottles. The bottles made a loud clinking sound as the bartender leaned over Philip to hear him above the frenetic beats and rhythms of the salsa music blaring through the loud speakers. "Do you know who the woman in gold is standing at the bar?" Philip asked the bartender without tearing his gaze away from her. "Who? You mean Lola?" the bartender replied with a thick Cuban accent. "Her name is Lola," Philip repeated more to himself than to the bartender, a small smile forming on his lips. "Don't get any ideas, hombre. Lola is off limits." A frown replaced Philip's smile. "She's already seeing someone?" "Yeah. The owner of Libre," the bartender said flatly. "Anyone so much as look at Lola will get his head smashed against a wall. Or worse. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with her." The bartender left to cater to another customer just as Philip dejectedly wound his way through the crowd for the exit. He past the bar and gave Lola one last lingering look by the door. She looked up and met Philip's stare. The spinning couples and the chaotic atmosphere of the club seemed to slow at a delirious pace. Their eyes forged a strange link and searched the very depths of their being. Longing, love, and anguish silently communicated what words could not say until one of them broke off the connection. Philip left Libre with the image of Lola and her soulful eyes forever seared into his subconscious mind. This is the end of the vignette. I wrote it a long time ago for a creative writing class. I decided to dig it up and polish it a bit. The details are a lot better than before. It's been a long time since I've posted anything, so for those of you that still read my stuff, here's something to tie you over until I get back into fanfic writing. Thank goes to DBZ for beta-reading this.