A Dance of Need

         Moving to the center of the room she is carried with the feline grace of submission, her only focus is on him, and the rest of the room seems to vanish before her. All that can she before her now is him, his eyes, his face. As if by force her eyes lower, her gaze settling on the floor at his feet. Soon her body follows suit, melting into place like a fluttering ribbon of silk as she drops to her knees. Not wanting him to see the tears that were welling up in her eyes, she even lowers her head. Realizing he had not moved, nor had he said anything to her to offer comfort or ease her nerves, the woman's heart began to quicken. Perhaps he was displeased with her in some way. Just then the rumble of drums is heard. The sound is soft and slow, as if the music were now matching, or even mocking the beating of her own heart.

         Helplessly she was knelt before him when her body began to move. The motion of silken flesh seen as the midnight fabric was silently removed from it, showing him clearly all that was His, all that she had to offer to the one that had first set this encompassing fire burning within her. As the fabric began caressing her flesh she moaned. The fabric was doing to her, that which she wished of his own touch to do. Lifting the garment from her creamy flesh, she laid it in the floor beside her, watching as it fell like a puddle of darkness.

         Even now, the tormented woman had not heard him move, nor had she even heard the voice of the one her heart beat for. Unable to stand this agony any longer, sparkling pools of adoration lift to him once more, pleading, begging, hoping, those hazel orbs dance with desire. Still, he simply sat there, unmoving, his face stoic and his voice silent. Could it be that he had no idea how much she needed him, how her body agonized for even the smallest of touches from him? This simply could not be! She had to show him, she had to make him understand how every breath she took was taken for him.

         Slowly those lashes of fire dropped to rest like feathers against pale cheeks. Her back arched and luscious auburn strands began falling like rain over her bare back. With her head tilted back, she was exposing herself for all to see, and proudly displaying the choker he had placed around her ivory throat. Hands of alabaster caressed the glistening silver treasure lovingly, her slender digits touch as gentle as one might use when touching a priceless gem, or a painting of untold worth. As if in response to simply being touched, her body trembled and a soft moan of ecstasy danced from those sun-kissed lips.

         The beating of those infernal, mocking drums grew louder, faster and more thunderous. As if it had been commanded to do so, her heart followed suit until she was sure it would burst from her chest. Again those tiny hands moved, dropping from the treasure of silver, to caress the throat that peeked out below it. Her lips parted, a whispered moan sent on the winds, floating, dancing, reaching out towards his ears. Not wishing to be left out of the ecstasy that was beginning, her chest heaved as a deep breath was taken and those mounds of smooth cream silently begged to be touched, to be used, to be needed.

         In absolute obedience, slender fingers moved to trace lower, caressing her luscious breasts as she had felt him do so many times before. In agony, torment, and desperate pleasure, she cried out, moaning, whimpering, reveling in the vision of his hands upon her withering flesh, his caress upon the girl whose very soul he possessed. Boldly now those hands began to move across glistening flesh, pinching, teasing and claiming.


         In agonizing slowness, the torture moved until the touch was crossing over her flat stomach, causing the flesh there to ripple and dance beneath the trail of pleasure.


Inexplicably, the drums grew chillingly silent and the hands upon her skin stopped moving. This could not be. There had to be some mistake! In an instant her hips bucked, her voice cried out and her tortured heart began beating even faster than before.

"Jessie.....please..."

         The voice was barely more than a whisper, pleading, begging, gasping. Thankfully those hands began to move once more. He had rewarded her with yet more of his touch. His strong hands of searing pleasure moved to the gyrating thighs that begged for their touch, caressing ever closer to her insatiable core.

         The silence seemed to have reached her, breaking her reverie. As if waking from a dream, those dark lashes fluttered open, her head lifted, and her sculpted back straightened. Realizing then that it had not been his hands upon her but merely her own, her heart sank. Out of this anguish was awakened a fire of lustful determination, compelling her onward. Once more those eyes of sparkling jade lifted to his and her svelte arms raised from their place upon velvety thighs, stretching towards him. In one final move borne of brazen heat, those lips of scarlet parted and she cried out.

"Jessie please, find reason to use this flesh that is yours. Allow me to please you as only I can!"

         As the dance concludes, the glistening body of the heated woman sits motionless, silent. Trembling in anticipation she waits for a word from her lover. The music resumes, as if offering its own placation and respite to the scorching inferno within her. Soft and sensual, the sound of harp and lyre are heard. Still the woman remained in her place, too worked up to breathe nearly, listening intently for his voice.