Patricia enjoyed the sens of dancing erotically, somehow it connected her to the infinite universe and inner-self. She never envisioned dancing in front of people in order to make a living. She hated the fact of sharing something pure and phantasmal with undeserving men just for the sake of money. She never enjoyed it, though she had this meticulous body and effortless muse and charm that attracted men.
Entering the club, she always wished for a disaster; something to stop the show but give her money; such as robbery, earthquake, heart-attacks for certain clients at once, a car bumping the club, tables falling on clients, anything not so serious but enough to stop the show. To inhibit those men from touching her or even looking at her. Because of hating the job, she was unable to make a single friend. She was embarrassed but wore another identity, and held an ever powerful nature.
She covered her body with nice fragrances. It’s one of the things that costed her a lot. For 3 years and a half nothing from her wishes occurred. But one night, which seemed like every other night, she called in sick so that she would get a night off but the boss refused so she came anyway.
At the club there was a group of men whom paid extra money just to have her dance on their tables. She put on her clothes and joined them as she was told.
When the music starts, she switches off her conscious, she reels up tight, she lifts herself clean off the ground, her legs are spread just right. The crowd cheers, as she spins round, her hair touches the ground, she doesn’t hear anything except her rhythmic heart-beat and feels sparkles all-over her body like she touches the atmosphere; a million coloured spectrum, shine on her speculator face. Then spinning by just her legs, she catches glimpses of the clients as they sup upon their drinks. Exceptionally she hears a strong male voice whispering: “tu voles mon soupir” She opens her eyes, he’s right in front of her smiling…
Of all the flattering words she’s heard, this time she felt noticed. As she was coming down the stage, the client requested for a private session. Just the two.
He touches her with tenderness; her body nodules under his burning palms, her skin moans. Her lips swell with desire, arched buttocks, hardened nipples, senses ablaze, demanding his homage, watery red eyes. Saliva fills her mouth because she wants to swallow him. All the fluids are flowing very fast and liquids are spilling everywhere.
Lip to lip, she reaches that smoky taste of his, drunkenness, desire, the elasticity of the body open fire where souls mend, her flesh calls his skin, she breathes his body.
Lick me, bite me, devour me – she yearns
Calm my hunger, savor this honey dripping down my thighs
Search with your tongue, the hidden place of my salacious queendom
Make my throat scream, glowing under your hammering chest
More, deep
Vertigo of the pleasures of the flesh,
Lick those puffy labia, skid onto the Bartholin glands and penetrate,
Peak pleasurable feeling, she can’t describe, shortage of breath, her body quivers, she cries tears of discovering a new place in this genitalia world. He helps her explore multiple orgasms.
What’s really happening to her body? She can’t stop, it’s salty, it’s sugary, is she going to explode? How far can she go? All of her muscles are dancing; her mouth open, her hands gripping the sofa firmly, clenching up like a young venom; doesn’t want to let go of him; her mind runs around “please don’t stop” but not a single word comes out; more tears fall down on her face;
He can’t take his eyes off her, obsessed with seeing her panting and languishing in the distress of pleasure. She haunts and obsesses him so much and becomes essential to him. It’s an exhausting desire, he resign himself to it;
Like two effervescent dancers following each other’s rhythm, strutting those moves, reaching those high note moans. It’s sublime. Intertwined souls.
He pulls out to tap more on her shaft. The Pudendal nerve serves well, the clit is erected. At the moment, every toe of hers is stiff, immense pleasure, she sees herself at the top of the mountain, like her soul is enlarging and wrapping around his. His cock slides the vaginal wall, she screams, she has tingling sensations; splashing juicy fountain unstoppably! She releases the tension like a tearing stretched rubber band. He makes that sound before falling on her chest and they can both hear the heartbeat, sweaty hot bodies against each other, the marathon is done; pulled back on earth.
The exercise is magical for her, and he holds on to the loving eloquence.
Did she get the message he was conveying? Did he express himself to the best he can in that complete wholeness of the body and soul?
Lying on the sofa, her mind replays the little girl jumping up and down in the rain; she’s smiling from the inside. Another type of dance!
