The moment has arrived.
The curtain rises.
The hulking form of Samson, gleaming bronze perfection in flesh stands triumphant over the corpses of his foes, bearing the weight of a stone larger than any single man could hope to shift with ease. A living Atlas.
The scene holds, then the music comes up, soft, feminine, sensual. The strings and the woodwinds, played low and gentle, yet with a seductive power. And with it the blonde vision of beauty. All eyes move to the figure, enraptured by her form, save the titan on the stage.
She bows to the curtain tucking something unknown into her dress, then she dances, a perfect image of grace and beauty, her every step flawless, her body moving to the music, sublimely sensual and compelling.
Now the titan sees her. He drops the weight and the whole world seems to shake as he moves toward her, but she flits away, her face lit with an inviting smile. He rumbles, the sound of soft drumbeats. She laughs, the clear strains of the harp and the tinkling of small bells, and for a moment pauses as she holds her pose, her legs so high as the strings draw out the moment, this single moment when the beauty entices the beast.
The music shifts, ripped apart by the sound of a guitar riff as she begins a violent whirlwind of motion around him, never quite touching, but drawing him in ever closer until he is in the center of the stage, then she mounts his form, her leg resting on his chest while she stands behind. together she is drawn across his shoulder, turning toward him, letting her open hands run along his face silently promising love and so much more, her legs slithering down his.
This holds as the music roars, now a battle of the savage rock piece with the seducing orchestra. He lifts her suddenly, a titan holding his goddess in awe and the music stills. the lights dim as she slithers about his form, the tiny piccolo matched with the harp strings to tell of her words. They grow more insistent. He rumbles. The lights come up on her alone, kneeling before him pleading. A short thunder of drums. The lights come up and he is bound in seven small bands about his torso.
The harp and bells tinkle as she dances about him, testing the cords, feeling of his muscles and softly taunting him for his weakness by pushing and rocking him. She moves before him, facing the audience and opens her body in invitation to this weakened fool, tossing her hair in his face, her smile cold yet starkly predatory and sexual. He rumbles again, then with a jagged riff of the guitar the bands snap and he snatches her back, dipping her, his brutal hands so dangerous upon her. Her own hands come up to his face, stroking his chest while the music, now the piano, soothes and entices him. She draws his head down and nuzzles his cheek.
The light go low, shading them as she is held, then slowly began to her slithering seduction over his form once again, the harp and bells laughing, the piano soothing, the piccolo urging, the flute taunting. Finally he rumbles again as the lights come up. Now she is angry, her voice the clarinet with a touch of the saxophone, harshly cut into him for his laughter. She will not let him touch her, pushing his hands away and avoiding his lips. Finally he sighs, his great chest falling as he submits.
Laughing she binds him now in great strong ropes, now coy and fetching, touching his chest and arms, kissing his shoulder, back and cheek, assuring him through her soft voice that it is but a test, an affirmation of his love. She knots the ropes and laughs cheerfully, moving away from him toward his enemies who menace in the background. But she is forced back as the sound of the guitar rips through all once again and he easily rips free of the ropes and starts for the front of the stage.
Panicked she chases after him and slips before him, cupping his cheek and writhing before him most invitingly. he snarls, his voice the guitar, growling at her as he cups her face in his big hand, easily lifting her, the threat clear. She runs her hands along his arm, soothing him once again, her legs joining the game as she slides up his extended arm onto his shoulder, then around to the other, sliding down him to safety while kissing his cheek. He does not like it but he allows her once again sooth him down. Then the lights go low again as she begins once again to beg him, intent on his secret. He refuses until finally the lights come up and he allows he to draw him back to the center of the stage where now a long couch has been laid out.
She pushes him down onto the couch, and keeps him sittign while she spins about him, dancing over and around him once again, until through her soft words and gentle touches, she coaxes him to lay down with her. He rumbles, then he begins to sleep, now the softest drum beat. Delighted she sit up on his middle and leans across him and weaves his hair into a large loom. Once again she laughs, sure she has him this time. She dances in delight, triumphant, slowly making her way toward the foe, their voices now audible, calling for the head of Samson.
She reaches for the proffered payment, and the music explodes with a rock riff that startles them all. Samson sits up, yawns, and with another riff grips his hair and easily rips it free of the loom which collapses with a crash.
Now he is furious. The rock screams his rage at the woman then he leaves the stage. The enemy shout and she falls, sobbing by the couch.
Clutching it, desperate for an answer, the music plays mournfully as she lays there, unable to function, until the music begins to slow, then begins to brighten, then speed up and she stands as the idea has formed. She dances about the stage several times, once again the image of grace and beauty.
Samson returns, still angry, but unable to resist her. Reaching for her. She taunts and flirts with him, chiding him for lying to her. Her laughs at first but she begins to cry, the violins so sad. Finally the drums fade and he speaks through the oboe, low and regretful. Still she will not have him. He becomes more insistent.
Finally she deigns to come to him, and he lifts her, once again the titan worshiping his goddess. His hair is thrown high and she nearly falls as he collapses, a jagged riff accompanying his fall. She begins to laugh as the enemy, calling for his head approach and the light shining solely on her as she takes her payment, still laughing as he weakly roars his protests and struggles feebly to escape.
Now haughty and proud she dances a chillingly beautiful movement. She dominates the stage as her 'love' is shown in the background his eyes blacked out, forced to do the work of an animal, his shorn hair looking so strange. She ignores the sight for the longest while, but then she listens to the jeers.
"The mighty Samson!"
"The great warrior!
"Now he is nothing!!"
She shakes them off. They grow louder. She shakes them off again. Still louder. She covers her ears. Yet louder, the voices accompanied by the brash and boastful brass, mocking the betrayed Samson.
Now remorseful she watches him, unable even to dance. She hurls away her payment but this will not return his eyes or his strength. She sobs and flees the stage.
Now Samson, in chains is dragged forward between two pillars. Again he is in the center of the stage. He tries to stand strong and mighty as of old but he cannot. He falls to his knees, his head hung low. The jeers grow louder, the trumpets, trombones, tubas mocking his plight.
Yet through it all comes the flute and the violin, soft yet mournful. She stands at the edge of it all, watching them laugh at him, torment him. her heart breaks seeing such cruelty. She resumes the dance, now the dance of the broken, reaching out to him, drawing ever closer to him, this man she betrayed.
As she does the woodwinds and the strings build a crescendo feeling, telling of her sorrow, her heartbreak, her regret, speaking her words to the man. Yet he does not look up. he cannot. he is still too weak.
She reaches him, her fingertips only just daring to touch his chest as she says his name. "Samson!" His head snaps up and she sees that they have blinded him as the drums thunder and he curses her, hating her for the betrayal. She does not shrink away. She deserves it and more. Her hand cups his cheek, then moves up, her thumb touching his eye, then she sees something that horrifies her as she snatches her hand away and his fair, full and beautiful, falls about his face.
Samson roars, a thunder of drums, and the music falls silent as Ezra roars as well and leaps to his feet. Rock riffs ring out as he breaks the chains, then snatches out and grips the pillars. She is now kneeling before him in terrified awe as the rumble grows louder and the brass screams in terror. The pillars begin to bow, then to bend, then they collapse away. Then he grabs her shoulders and lifts her as she screams the thunder louder than ever now, then everything goes dark with a resounding crash. All is silent.
Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
