Cotton Avenue

Nina Clark 2008

“To hear the shiny, shiny music; see all the shiny people dancing to it…” Joni Mitchell

The first assault on the senses was the heat. It introduced itself like a flirt, an infectiously lazy vibe, imperceptibly raising the bar for the evening’s revelry. As they wandered through the door, drawn from the street by the promising sounds from within, a muddle of limbs pulsed before them in a haze of colourful perspiration, squeezing and kneading like baker’s hands.

“Hell yeeah!” Kaylee exclaimed, already unzipping her gilet, the electric blue turning a deep purple from the club’s crimson glow. She turned to the Captain, her eyes alight with desire. Mal smiled beatifically at his mechanic, already fool to the intoxicating temperature. “We stayin’ then?” she smiled winningly at his nodding assent.

The aroma of chewed betel hung on the air, pervading the senses; a languorous hint. Wash made purposefully for the bar, whilst Zoë scanned the room subtly for potential threats. Happy to find no apparent troublemakers, she confirmed this with a nod to the Captain and moved over to her husband.

“Make mine a whisky...” he called after her.

Mal watched their intimacy, and felt if not a pang then something approaching it. In the rare moments he allowed himself pause for reflection, even the slightest peek through the crack into his psyche would alarm him. His innermost thoughts, when given illumination, were filled with…her. Of course.

Still, tonight was that illusive thing; a moment to unwind. To be himself, in the truest sense. The happy, charming man he once was. But there he went again, lingering. Not tonight. Not if he had any say in it. Where was that drink?

______________________ * ______________________ * _____________________

“Oh, honey… I never knew you could dance like that!” Kaylee grinned sweetly at River, who positively glowed as they moved from the dance floor to the table now inhabited by their fellow shipmates.

“Nor did I.” the younger woma