Title: Miyako Odori

Summary: It was a dance performed every year and one they would perform for the rest of their lives. Pre Series Inara

Rated: PG

Prompt: deviant muses Can’t get this music out of my head

A/N: the miyako odori is a dance performed once a year by the Japanese Geishas.

Word Count: 603

 

 

 

The music guided her, the pressure of a hand at the small of her back no match for the notes that twined themselves around her.  The music ended and she executed a polite curtsey to her partner.

 

“I should let you go. You’ve a line of possible clients waiting for some of your time,” the middle aged man told her but he kept a firm grip on her fingers.

 

Inara smiled, ducked her head demurely and leaned in to whisper in the man’s ear. “Yes, but I’m hoping you will be the one to win me. A girl’s first time should be special and I just have a feeling about you.”

 

She had said the words half a dozen times tonight to six different potential clients with the same demure dip of her head, slight blush and naďve smile. The man puffed up like poppycock.

 

“I’m going to check my bid now,” he told her as he led her off the dance floor and passed her hand to the next suitor waiting for a moment with the belle of the ball.

 

The music changed but the dance remained the same and Inara found her attention wandering, even though her dancing partner would never realize it. The rest of the companions floated around the floor, steered by their own prospective Prince Charming, aware that the one with the deepest pockets would be the one they would spend their first night away from the guild house with.

 

She tilted her head, looking up at the man steering her around the room. He was handsome enough in his own way, dark graying hair, noble Roman nose and dressed in the finest formal clothing. He was old enough to have a daughter her own age at home and probably a wife. She bit the tip of her tongue, driven by the sudden desire to ask him if he commonly took pleasure in a companion or was it only the twice yearly presentation of the virgins that his wife tolerated.

 

“Miss Serra, you do shine brighter than all the other young ladies in the room,” he told her in a rolling baritone.

 

She smiled coquettishly, blushed appropriately and giggled. “You flatter a girl, Sir. I should think I’m the envy of the ball though, being attended to by such a gentleman as you.”

 

The effect of her words on him was astonishing only in that his reaction mirrored that of every other man she’d flattered this evening.

 

As the evening drew to a close, the girls retired to their rooms to freshen up.  The chatter and laughter swirled around Inara, a different sort of music. She tilted her head, letting it encompass her for a moment. Her life was about to change, about to become everything she wanted it to be. She was on the cusp of becoming a companion. She slicked her lips with fresh vermillion lipstick just as the tiny bell in the room sounded, calling them back down to the ballroom. The discreet, silent auction had ended. Their first client had been decided.

 

They stood in rows, a field of white orchids waiting their fate. The orchestra had ceased playing but Inara could still hear the music in her head. The house priestess called out each girl’s name. In turn the girl walked forward to meet her client, likely someone she’d danced with during the evening but occasionally a face she’d never met. It was the only time a companion didn’t choose her client.

 

“Inara Serra.”

 

She stepped forward, taking the first step in a dance she would perform for the rest of her life.