A Blogovella by Ezzie Dryar (Anne Martin)

Posts tagged “dance

18. Lapdancing


untitle [#180] (2004) by Hellen van Meene

The things that swirl around in my head – lap-dancing, today – I wouldn’t be your ordinary erotic dancer, four-inch heels would have me gasping for air in the stratosphere, and you’d be staring at my kneecaps as I strutted around you in your chair, a standard desk chair, it swivels like my hips, and has no arms – they’d get in the way – so as I strut, I trace my fingertips along your shoulder-blades, maybe they are a little cold today, like the weather, and my nails don’t dig because I keep them short, but I’ve painted them glittery burgundy in your honor, along with my toenails – yes, I’m barefoot – I’m told I’m good with them, maybe you’ll find out someday, but not today, as I pass around behind you; my fingers, they’ve found your top button and I couldn’t resist, two, three, and my hand is down your shirt – it’s getting warmer now – like my breasts that dangle tantalizingly close to the back of your head, brushing against your hair – do you feel me, I certainly feel you and give your chest a playful squeeze – alright, both hands, and now you can definitely feel my two pillows caressing your neck

what am I wearing you ask, not much, but as I said, I’m not your ordinary lap dancer, and my bra selection is limited mostly to running wear, since I spend so much time pounding the pavement, but a sports bra makes me nice and firm, nothing to bounce around, and bikini briefs – no thongs in my wardrobe – and have you noticed that I almost always wear dark colors underneath, burgundy today to match my nails and my hair, which I had done this morning – I’d indulge you with it, but it’s too short for anything particularly sensual now – oops – I’ve accidentally untucked your shirt, and unbuttoned it – sometimes I’m just on autopilot – I strut around in front of you; do you like my nice firm tummy, it pulses for your delectation, but maybe you don’t notice, since you are nuzzling between my breasts,

take a nice sniff, no artificial scents on me, I’m allergic to them, just normal body smells, sweat, pheromones, yes, I’m hot with them today – I thought about doing a striptease for you, but there is no teasing here, I’m serious, pulsing with the music – OK, maybe the bra can come off, I find them too confining, so off it goes and around your head – there, we bounce a little, just for you – and what do lap-dancers do – yes, I’m so there pulsing up against you, with you between my legs – I lower myself onto you – I need this as much as you do – there is so little fabric between us, and I can feel you pulsing with me as the music speeds up – have you ever had a belly-dancer on your lap – every muscle finely controlled for your visual enjoyment, but how about up against you for your tactile pleasure, jiggling my pillows in your face as my firm lithe body throbs around you ever quicker, firm – yes, we both are (snickers) – and I course my fingers through your hair because I’m getting carried away, I have a runner’s endurance and could go all night if you wanted me to, but maybe now’s the time for you to stick your tenner in my – well, the bra is gone, so I guess it will have to go in my panties, right there in front – go for it – I don’t mind it getting a little damp, not if it is earned through my pleasure and perhaps yours – put it in nice and deep, so it won’t fall out – yes, right there – no I won’t stop, not till I’m damn well ready, and I won’t mind if you put your arms around me, just don’t get any ideas – this is a business transaction – another tenner? – fifty and it’s a deal, go ahead, slip it in, nice and, ahhhhh, deep

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14. Moondance


Ballerina foot by Tiquis

I’m in a place deep within, black like night except for a crescent moon – I love crescents, low on the horizon, reflecting on water, but it isn’t now, it’s reflecting on a black surface, like a still lake at night, but it has no shore; it extends infinitely in all directions, and I’m standing on it, it’s solid but soft – maybe I’m walking on water, but I leave no impression, cause no ripples – it’s warm here, and I’m dressed, well, comfortably, and by now you should know how I’m most comfortable – and I’m most comfortable now, now without periods, flowing on one of my inner streams, a stream that has become the endless sea that supports me and reflects my moon, my lover, and I feel happy – no reason, just happy within, free, free to express myself; I trace an arc with my toes around to my right, I spin and reach for the moon as I would a lover on the deck of a ship, departing on a long voyage, my moon will become renewed on its journey, I plier, relever, and glisser, again to my right (I’m horribly left-footed), and stretch my left leg up, pointing to my lover, before rocking forward, down onto my knees, rolling left, once, twice, onto my back, rolling into a split, again reaching for the moon – I rock forward onto my chest, remembering to point my toes, and fingers, I roll again, feet over head, back to a standing relaxed position, I sprint forwards into an arabesque

A devilish part of me wishes there was a pole here, I want to pole dance for my lover – I knew a pole dancer once, she, too, played French horn and sat next to me in an orchestra, she was beautiful, soft, not brash, like you would expect of a pole dancer, she was remarkably feminine and masculine at the same time, I could have loved her, would have if we weren’t both into our men at the time, both coincidentally across the orchestra in the trombone section, I wish she were dancing with me now, dancing together for the moon, perhaps she is, there in my heart, I’d feel her wrapped around me as I leap again and spin, she’s there, holding me, keeping me from falling as I become more daring, a double spin – I spot on the moon to keep from getting dizzy – I pretend she is there as my pole and envelope her, another relever, tourner, and élancer straight towards the moon and another arabesque, she’s right behind me,

I stop, plier, I’m quite flexible, but usually also clumsy, I’m perfect for my lover, setting on the horizon, my moon touches its mirror, as I embrace mine, my invisible pole dancer, in the fading light I spin again, and roll, I leap into a circle of arabesques as a final parting flourish, and another plier, relever onto my toes and a vertical split – can’t do that on my toes, but I’ve rocked back and spun – it’s almost black now and I can feel my pole dancer holding me, protecting until my moon returns, I’m safe, and expectant

Basic ballet movements:

1. plier, to bend
2. étendre, to stretch
3. relever, to rise
4. sauter, to leap
5. élancer, to dart
6. glisser, to glide
7. tourner, to turn