The Gypsy Seductress Luludja

Lyrics from the song 

All night there isn't a train goes by, Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see its cinders red on the sky,  And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing;

Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going.

Luludja is a gypsy name derived from the Albanian Luljeta, flower of life

A sickle moon sat high in the sky. The stars shone distantly behind it, tiny flecks of light thrown against an intangible dark expanse. On the breeze floated the acrid smell of wood smoke mingled with patchouli. A robust fire cracked and burned, licking the night sky, casting long shadows on the myriad of faces gathered round it. Music filled the air, bringing everything it touched to life with vivacious excitement. A low drum beat set the rhythm in which her gypsy hips swayed.

Her name was Luludja, flower of life; her seductive brown eyes glimmered in the firelight, holding sway over any who beheld them. There was something animal, sinuous, sensual about her, the way she moved and weaved in unison with the music. She moved, seamless, never missing a beat; like a cobra charmed by a flute, like prairie grasses bending in the wind. 
In the fire light, her olive skin glowed from her exertions. Her skirts bloomed like a rare crimson flower as she swirled about the pit in a dazzling array of colors. The fire was her fuel, pushing her ever on, to dance 'til the sun rose. Her feet were bare, high arched and long toed; the slender curves of her footprints left etched in the sand. Gold bangles gleamed on her wrists, silver bells and trinkets jingled as she continued to shimmy. Through her hair, a curtain of black satin, her chocolate eyes locked upon a stranger amongst the captivated faces. He stared back, enthralled by her hypnotic gaze. Bending to the beat of the drum, her arms raised, she continued round and round the fire until it seemed she would soon be overcome by vertigo. Coming to a halt, her skirt falling to her sides, she came to stand within arms reach of the young man.

She didn't say anything, just looked at him straight-on, her sultry eyes dark and slanting. The air between them crackled with electric energy. His blood burned molten hot in his veins, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. Grasping her arm, he pulled her against him in a rough embrace, the people around them faded, he saw only her before him. Her breasts rose against him, he wanted to reach out and test their weight, but he stayed his hand. He imagined them, smooth and round, just out of reach beneath her homespun muslin top. Her slender lithe form melted in his arms, her breath hot on his neck. He brought his mouth to hers, her pink lips parting as his landed on hers. His hand drifted lower down her back, tracing the graceful curve of her backbone. She gasped and grabbed his hand with hers, spinning away from him in a flurry of gold and crimson. Her brown eyes laughed at him, taunting him, daring him to chase after her into the ring of firelight and
dance. He followed behind her, enchanted by the gypsy seductress.
trilo2 trilo2
18-21, M
Jan 18, 2013