"The Subconscious Tango Betrayal (61 Days)"Artist: renisanz Author: rj_anderson Media:
pencil, Photoshop CS2Rating:
Done for the countdown @ sheldon_penny
. I wanted to do something for Illustration Friday
, and this week's theme is "tango." In an effort to kill two birds with one stone, I decided this would be cool to try for my "61 Days" piece. After some chatting on twitter, rj was awesome enough to write a drabble to go with my art. Yay! for my first collaboration - You're awesome, Rebecca. *hugs* :D
Penny knew these steps, as though she had been dancing them all her life: the languid step forward into her partner's embrace, the backward gliding steps as he pursued her across the floor, the swivel from right to left foot as she strutted before him, the silky folds of her skirt swirling about her thighs. She could feel his right hand, strong bones and lean sinews, pressed firm against the bare skin of her back even as the fingers of his left curled with sensuous delicacy against her palm. No novice dancer, this partner of hers: he moved with the confidence of a master, teasing her out to arm's length only to whip her back against him with a speed that left her breathless. They undulated together through a room filled with dusky golden light and enticing shadows, following the tango's insistent demands for more passionate urgency, more style and grace.
Slowly he dipped her back, his arm the one restraint that kept her from falling, and she swung a low circle with her leg curled around his waist, fearless. He lifted and carried her as though she were weightless, then set her down just as lightly—but all the while his hold on her was possessive, as though he refused to admit the possibility of ever letting her go. They moved together, equals and opposites, enemies and lovers, one moment haughtily divided by a foot of empty space and the next so close she could feel his heartbeat pounding against her own. It was exhilarating. It was intoxicating. It was as good as sex, or better.
But who was he, her mystery partner? His features were a blur, though now she could tell that he had dark hair smoothed back from a high forehead, and the shoulders that shifted beneath the thin, chocolate brown fabric of his shirt were pleasingly broad. Penny's gaze followed the long line of his throat to a tantalizing glimpse of collarbone, then swept down to linger on the forearm pressed against her waist, its corded strength laid bare by a casually rolled-up sleeve. He wore a vest and trousers the color of a starless night, dramatic contrast to her own scarlet halter dress and the matching rose tucked into her softly knotted hair; as they whirled past the line of mirrors on the far wall, Penny couldn't help stealing an admiring glance at how fabulous they looked together. And yet she still couldn't think who—
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," murmured her partner, guiding her through the steps with effortless precision. "Not only do we follow a consistent rhythm and a predetermined pattern, our movements trace a succession of geometric shapes. Though lesser minds perceive it as an expression of overwrought emotionalism and base sexual urges, the tango is a science."
"Oh, yeah?" said Penny, curling her fingers around the back of his neck and pulling his head down, so that she could feel his breath warm the deep V of her neckline. Then she pushed him away and stalked a challenging orbit around him before allowing him to seize her waist and press her against him once more. "Well, you sure don't dance like you believe it."
"Any sufficiently advanced technique is indistinguishable from passion," he retorted, though his fingers drifted tantalizingly down her right hip as he spoke. "I would hardly participate willingly in this exercise if my performance could be perceived as substandard."
Penny hooked her left leg around Sheldon's and looked up into his face, her cheeks flushed and her eyes half-lidded. "Technique, huh?" she breathed. "Well, work this into your little formula," and with that she hiked herself up his body and kissed him...
Penny fell out of bed in a sweaty tangle of blankets, her hair in wild disarray. "Crap on a—" she gasped, floundering to get up again. She had to get back into bed, had to get back to that dream, of all the worst
Wait a second. She'd been dreaming about dancing a sexy tango with Sheldon
Penny put her head in her hands. "61 days," she groaned. "They've got 61 more days in the friggin' Arctic, and I'm already losing my mind."
I'd been teasing people with this all day. I'm so glad to finally have it done. Reference images, FTW. The background texture is tango dance steps I snagged off the internets. The coloring could be better in some places, but...eh.