11 results for 'dancer'
...me a funk so bad that I had a hard time being where I was because I was trying to figure out what that smell was. It was me, plain and simple. When I arrived at the club I figured I could splash on a little cologne and I would be okay. Nope, it had zero effect on the pungency. A few of the dancers got very offended by my funk and asked if I could go home and fix it. Fix it? That's funny. Plus, I was not diving the 45 minutes each way, it wasn't happening. Then my boss came up to me and said to follow her. So I did. She had asked if I had a change of clothes and if so to get them and... (more)
I have been talking alot with my friend at the club about her being a dancer. Amy has me very curious because she is totally deaf. Being deaf is all she has known since she explained to me that she was born deaf. We communicate mainly with ASL and writing things down, she always comments that I can just talk to her because she is a fine lip reader. Even so, I feel alot is lost in translation. Amy remains the most interesting person I talk with at the club. Due to her so called "disability" and my ASL knowledge our boss sees to it that she spends 90% of the night dancing on my bar (a stage... (more)
Leaving with my head still full of meds and wine, my lust still on her lips, we knew our next steps controlled the destiny of years. I cared not for what my life was before her. To be by her side, to feel her hair brush against me, to hear her voice call my name, these are what my life consisted of now. We waited on the corner for a ride she arranged while I was asleep. I nodded briefly, a victim of my hangover, and woke when I heard the muffled, "thump, thump, thump, thump" of its muffler. The car reminded me of an older converted cop car. The hard seats were uncomfortable as I slid in.... (more)
The sting of the needle, inserted quickly out of necessity, brought me back to consciousness. The graybearded, decrepit doc had me laying on the kitchen counter, working out of an old leather bag which resembled the texture of his skin. Evidently I was out for a while, as he busied himself cleaning up. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the body of our attacker wrapped in heavy plastic, red smears on the inside looking like a crazed water-color painting. My Queen was calm, her hands stroking the blood, my and his, from my body. I noticed a strength in me, her strength, unafraid and capable... (more)
Whispering directions to her room, her voice was scant, forcing me to listen. Speaking softly, she could make others stop their routine to pay attention. Her eyes pulling them, me, closer as we leaned in to listen. She led me to her house, a loft in an unpretentious part of town. The door popped when she opened it, perhaps she hadn't been here in a while. My Queen had access to many places I'm sure, not to mention the access she gains so readily to the hearts of her subjects. The smell of incense, strong and lingering, permeated her sanctuary, adding an element of Eros to the sultry décor.... (more)
...away slowly. The day I drove away faster than I came to her would be the end. Halfway home, my phone is ringing...its Angel, “Baby, don't come back, I’m staying here.” “What!” I screamed into the phone, “What's wrong, what happened?”. “They told me you were screwing another dancer, that you would hurt me, and that I needed to stay with them”. Swerving off the road, pulling a two point turn that would make a stuntman jealous, I peeled out back to her, stones and dust chasing me.
I hit the gravel parking lot, cranked the wheel and slid sideways toward the... (more)
...home and saw her, lying down, seemingly asleep, in one hand, a stash of little blue pills. It was perfectly staged, this suicide attempt. SNAP! The trap was sprung. My angel cried, told me how unhappy she was, how she had only one dream that would make her happy. That dream was for her to be a dancer. No not just a dancer, an exotic dancer. A man in my position is helpless to do anything but take care of her now, to save her, or so I thought. What did she need in this pursuit but a man to push ahead of her as she whispered which path to take? I was wholly naïve concerning the whole culture ... (more)
The rest of the night blurred by, like so many nights do, when you don't have the courage to look for a tomorrow. I stumbled home with her image emblazoned on my mind, falling asleep, dreaming of angels. Opening my eyes in drunken squints, can someone turn off that damn light? I laughed, of course not, it was the sun greeting me to a new day. I showered off the smell, but the after effects of the night hung on until afternoon. By then, my mind was way ahead of the day, thinking that tonight I will run into my angel again. She left enough of me wanting, to keep my attention. The wolf will let... (more)
She tucked herself close to me, I covered her, encouraging her shelter. Pulling her close, my mind raced with anticipation. How will my queen reward me? Would she possibly let me be her king? How can I, plain and awkward, be a king? That would be.....I was yanked from my fantasy by her frantic tug. We walked quickly but as I turned to my familiar escape, down the lit side street to the paid parking...she pulled me down the alley, into the unknown, a dark way, a mysterious exit. It was a typical alley way by all estimations, lined part way with overflowing garbage cans, the rest lit gloomily... (more)
The late afternoon turned to the late night, evidenced by the visible change in both volume and appearance of my queens subjects. The large middle aged blue collar slave, began to morph into, a slicker, more refined slave, those whose love for my queen, gave birth to other interests, like little meetings in the restroom, hushed conversation with obvious handshakes concluding their business. The toll my queen takes on her subjects spurred them on to more devious measures of support for her, their habit. I reached for what I thought was my last 10, and with disgruntled acknowledgment, got a small... (more)
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