The bass thrums through the soles of my boots, a low, rhythmic vibration that syncs with the pulse in my throat. Blue and violet light sweeps across the room, catching the haze of cigarette smoke and the shimmer of condensation on glass. The air tastes of expensive bourbon and the salt of a hundred moving bodies.
She stands at the edge of the light; a silhouette of brown curves hugged in white. Her gaze locks onto mine, a physical hook pulling me toward the center of the floor. The music swells into a thick, syrupy groove. She moves into my space, her heat radiating through the silk of my shirt.
Her fingers slide along my jaw, drawing my ear to her lips. She whispers a promise that tastes of dark cherries and reckless abandon. Her body presses a rhythmic demand against mine, eyes closed, hips rolling in a smooth ripple.
Across the cavernous room, her man anchors himself at a corner table. He sits behind a wall of amber bottles, a big spender who bought the right to watch. His eyes stay fixed on the sway of her body, a predator marking a boundary. The set of his jaw promises a scene, a violent eruption waiting for a single unwise slip.
A flash of gold catches the light as he grips his glass. The tension in his shoulders carries across the dance floor like weight.
She spins, her hair brushing my chest, her eyes wide and dark with the thrill of the chase. She sees nothing but the immediate hunger of the beat. The shadow in the corner means nothing to her. Her hand reaches for the back of my neck, pulling me back into the gravity of her scent.
I catch her wrists, my grip firm and grounding. A pocket of air opens between us, a necessary void. I guide her through a slow turn, a dance of redirection. My palms press against the small of her back, easing her toward the periphery of the light.
She laughs, pure defiance, and lunges forward again. The space I built closes as her hand slides up my thigh. I step back, eyes tracking the man who now stands. He looms, a tall, static barrier to the night. The raw deal in his hands is obvious while I navigate the minefield she lays with every breath.
My pulse hammers against my ribs, yet the lure of her remains a constant, magnetic pull against better judgment.
Passionately penned, Kay. Excellent storytelling with such precise and dynamic imagery my friend. Nicely done per usual. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian. Much appreciated.
Honestly, Kay, I only skimmed this piece; I have nothing against erotica, I just prefer less “revealing” literature. However, I read enough to discern that you have excellent skills as a writer: a good command of the language, good character development and an imaginative mind. It’s just not my cup of tea. I do have one recommendation, one that I feel will be of tremendous benefit for you: have you noticed the addition that has been made to this piece? a small “black bar” upon which is written one word: “Listen.” If you click it, you will hear an old English gentleman reading this piece. I think you might agree that it is ghastly. I won’t go into the dark, lurid tale that lies behind this addition to your work, but I think you will find this same final touch to your poem has also been added to all your other pieces here on SR.
You are not alone, Kay, and there is a way to get rid of it and to prevent it from occurring to the rest of your written pieces.
First, go to your Dashboard, navigate to this piece and select “Edit.” Next, make sure that under “Categories & Genre,” “Audio & Video” is NOT selected, and Third, beneath the box for content you will find a box for “Tags.” Among any entries you type here, add “excludetx” (without the quotation marks). Then save your work at the bottom. The offending audio of this piece will be gone. One more thing: make sure the box for “Text to Speech” is NOT checked.
Now, under your other pieces here, I would suggest you do the same. Unless it doesn’t bother you. It certainly did me.
FD