There is something sacred about skin. It covers our body and yet we cover it. That duplicity tantalizes the imagination. These day's women walk around with sacred parts available for the world to see. With such availability it's a struggle for the industries that thrived on the sanctity of skin. Strip clubs don't make money when you can get the same treatment by walking out the door. Some people think there isn't anything left for the imagination. They're wrong. Some things can't be displayed on the street. There are things in a woman that can only be shared when she chooses.
Temple was one of the new clubs. The decor was vintage and the staff offered a softer form of the current commercialism. At first glance most patrons prepared themselves for boredom. Everything in the club was subdued. There were no bright lights, fast moving music, or tantalizing graphics. It wasn't until the lights were brought down that newcomers became interested. A soft wind circulated through the room. The regulars were prepared for the brush of nanites against their skin. They ached for that first injection of adrenaline enhancing vitamins. The organic serum brought your body to a sharper awareness of what was going on around you. Some of the regulars became aroused the moment the felt the first brush. They knew what was coming.
Behind the stage, in a plain white room, a woman prepares herself. She rubes a thin gel over her body. There's a white table and bench in one corner. The room is white for many reasons. It calms the dancer and the microscopic mechanisms, called nanites, that the dancer will be using. Sophia huddles in the opposite corner as she applies the gel. A technician watches from a computer linked to a hidden camera in the room. On the table what looks like a long roll of ribbon begins to twitch. Sophia turns away from the table so that the twitching won't distract her. The technician is her partner, he transmits the program specifications she dictated for her set tonight. The ribbon twitches because it is learning it's part. The ribbon is an irritation. It's a colorful break in the monotony of the room. Sophia already knows her part and she knows that such and irritation would affect her performance and that is why she turns away.
Music is pumped in through speakers under the floor. The customers feel the beat in their feet and through the wood of the tables and chairs. They snack and sip excitedly as the curtain on the stage begins to move. It sways with a serpent like life. From a distance the thin sheet of bead sized robot's looks like a single piece of cloth but once they begin to move their independence became apparent. As the beat intensifies the curtain snakes apart to reveal a woman dressed in shadows.
With a final thud the music ends. There is a beat of silence. The customers are about to become restless when something changes on the stage. At first it seems like a trick of light but then it becomes clear. The woman on stage is glowing. Light bursts from every inch of her. The halo intensifies until every eye in the room is partly closed. Then the light begins to swirl. Two separate entities become apparent. There is a woman and a vortex that surrounds her. The vortex is made of a long, thick ribbon. The shape of the ribbon isn't static. It changes with her every movement.
Sophia is dancing. She moves slowly at first with simple movements. She makes shapes with her arms and then her legs. As promised by the banners outside the club, the woman dancing is completely nude. But the strip to this tease is made of a long ribbon that gives only glimpses of her nudity. She shifts and shimmies as the ribbon swirls around her. As per the program she wrote earlier, the gap's between the ribbon widen and shrink in rhythm with her movements.
In the beginning there are glimpses of a hip or a swell of the breast. As things progress, whole limbs come into view. Instead of the ribbon covering her nudity, now it is Sophia that teases the crowd. She conceals her breast as the ribbon reveals it. As the shadow between her thighs is to be shown, she turns to hide it. The crease of her bottom is about to be exposed and the ribbon succeeds! With a gasp Sophia curls inward with feigned shame.
The sound echoes through the room and a new phase of the dance begins. On her skin the thin layer of gel becomes active. There was faint music previously but now the music is drowned by the sounds of Sophia. The floors vibrate with her heavy breath. Now the dance is of her pleasure. Her movements are less choreographed. She runs her hands over her body and her eyes over the crowd.
Time passes slowly for Sophia. She dances languidly. The pace of her movements is dictated by her own desire. A part of her is aware of the eyes that follow her but that part is slowly dissolving. It is crushed by the pleasure swarming over her skin. This isn't sex, it's the thing that proceeds sex. The play of warmth and wet that builds to sex.
The dance ends with a gasp and a cry. Her body trembles as the glow leaves her. This stage remains dark as individual illumination return to the tables. In the silence Sophia can hear the heavy breathing of her patrons. As she walks from the stage she hopes her set left them wanting more. For a fee those men can spend intimate moments with an exact projected replica of her in rooms above the club.
There's a half hour break before the next dancer goes on. Sophia watches as the technician speaks with the next girl. The next set is a double. Two girls on stage at once. They dance with a swirling set of veils. Every dancer had her own shtick but, in the end, they are all of the same thing. There may have been a time when this was a lewd and tawdry industry but that time is long past. Sophia did her research before she decided on this field. She knows the history. It is odd for her to think that there was a time when this was a shameful career.
No striper of the past would have shared their pleasure the way she did. Her dance was put forth for the worship it brought. Instead of supplying pleasure, she was giving of her own pleasure. She could walk down the street and expose her body but such nakedness was only surface. There was something deeper to what she'd done on that stage. Her dance was of sensuality and pleasure. Those things are contained within a person. They can only be shared by choice. In this overexposed world, that was the final frontier.
The End.
- ‹ previous
- 47 of 53
- next ›