Young Writers Society

Silk flows as women of all ages are turned by their plus ones.

Young women, still looking like girls, gaze into their brother’s sparkling eyes.
Thin cheeks still soft as a rose petal and lips the color of cherries.
Their long lashes bat the shining eyes, brushing their gentle cheeks.
Middle-aged women look around the room, pulling at the knee of their long dresses.
Their ungrateful eyes dart around and they bite their plum colored lips.
Lines pull down their eyes and mouth, after years of frowning.
Frail old women cling to their husbands watching in glee, the twirling and spinning of the young ones.
They look into their husband’s unwavering eyes, and his eyes send a smile back at her without lifting a lip.
The women hold the sides of their dress up slightly, just as their mothers had taught them.
They cross their ankles and scarcely bend their knees outward.
The men return the gesture by placing one hand across the front of their body and one behind.
They create a ninety degree angle and then stand up sharply.
The ladies place theirs hands onto their date and he clasps his over hers protectively.
Middle-aged women snap their attention back to their husbands.
The lovely couples move across the floor, to the center.
The women place a hand on the men’s shoulder.
He releases her other hand and holds the middle of her back and she slips her other hand on his shoulder.
The music starts, the feet start moving.
They young women teeter, the veterans glide across the floor with the grace of an angel.
A soft tapping echoes off the light wooden floor.
Lights dim, feet move.
In a while the men lead their middle-aged wives to a table and seat them, grabbing drinks for both.
The beautiful young ones let their hair down, laughing in sheer joy.
Old women nest their heads on their husband’s shoulder.
Time flies by, golden locks hang over smooth arms.
Middle-aged women lead their drunken husbands to taxi’s.
Old couples slowly make their way out, the women’s heels clacking.
Young women with their brothers continue to twirl in pure bliss.
Hours slip away and finally the brother’s scoop up their loved one like a child and walk them home.
Stars gleaming overhead.