Save the Last Dance

 

A N:  I haven't even written this and I feel bad.  I feel like I might make someone that I care about mad.  But the story is in my head, and I happened to find out that John Barrowman does a version of this song.  Plus, I have this other, weird story lodged in my head.  It matches pretty good, I think.

 

So, with apologies.  Don't hate me.

 

Based loosly on "Save the Last Dance for Me"

 

 

By Thelma Mary Caroline

 

A N 2:  even though this is the first part, I'm not going to write much background stuff.  So here it is, in a nut shell.  This is like, Captured by aliens three.  Back home.  Two woman, Blaise, and Haichelle (because I love the name Haichelle) are together not so much because they love each other -- or even like each other -- but because they are supposed to.  And being on Earth doesn't really change that too much.

 

 

 

"I'm not really a lesbian," Haichelle said, gulping down the last of her Everclear Vodka.

 

Blaise nodded, taking a sip of her rum.  "I know that, sweetheart."

 

"I mean, look at all the good looking guys here!"  The woman gestured towards the dance floor.  "And who am I here with?  You!"

 

"So go dance."

 

Hai stopped, and stared at her partner.  "Is this a trick?"

 

Blaise shrugged.  "It's not like you're going home with them."

 

The red haired woman quickly stood up, before Blaise could change her mind.

 

"Just don't forget who's taking you home!" she called.

 

Kade quickly took the woman's empty seat.  "I can't believe you're letting her do that."

 

"She won't remember it tomorrow," Blaise answered.  "And doesn't she look so cute out there?  Look at how bright her smile is."

 

But Blaise herself just sighed.  The smile on her face was muted.

 

"Don't do that," Kade said.  "She can leave if she wants.  She doesn't want to."

 

Between songs, Blaise caught Hai's arm.  "I'm glad you're having fun --"

 

"The music's calling my name."

 

"Yes, I can hear it.  Just remember not to give your heart away.  I love you, you know.  I'm not going to let you go."

 

Haichelle pulled away.  "This is A J," she said, indicating a man behind her.  Tall, dark hair.  Of course.  "A J, this is my friend Blaise."

 

"As in a fire?" he asked.

 

"No, as in limping," Blaise clarified.  "It's French."

 

The woman leaned in close to her partner.  "You dance all night -- I don't care.  You're still going home with me.  He wants you to go home with him, you're gonna say no.  Do you understand?"

 

Haichelle pulled away once more.  "I got it," she snarled.

 

The night grew older with each song.  Blaise sat alone at her little table, watching carefully.  Finally they announced the last dance of the night.

 

Blaise stood and walked over the Hai, her hand outreached.  "May I have this dance?"

 

Haichelle's smile faded, and so then did Blaise's.  Still the woman took her hand, trying not to notice the looks from the men she had danced with all night.

 

"I hate you," Hai muttered, as they slow danced.

"Yes, I know."

 

Suddenly, she broke away.  "No, I hate you!"

 

Blaise stood as firmly as she could against the attack, grabbing her upper arm and holding on as best she could, until the rage faded.

 

As suddenly as the struggle had started, it stopped.  Haichelle collapsed into Blaise's arms, sobbing.

 

Blaise held on as tight as she could.