Tuesday
1/12/99
she walks into the room with an aire and gait that they don't recognize. tight skirt, tight ass, boots that come up to her thighs. the muscles under her high leather heels and in her broad shoulders rippling, flexing, unflexing, flowing like liquid as she does her one woman snake dance, black widow dance, enticing and entrancing every penis-toating creature in the room. her hair was wildly strewn in thick black and white and tan curls over her face and in her eyes and resting lightly on her shoulders in fat spirals. that hair and those eyes, her eyes, sparkled with that bestial glare of the dim lights through the smoke-filled room and through that smoke the air is surprisingly clear around her. she is like a dream, a ghost, in the steamy room, but she looks so cool and clean. even the diamand beads of sweat between her shoulder blades and pearling on her cleavage look like small clinging ice droplets. the way she moves her hands is exquisite, above her head, shaking down, pushing up along her little pot belly, underneath the pert mounds of her bust, then lightly, lightly over the tightly pulled fabric concealing her erect nipples. a slight smile plays over her lips as she slides her hands back down along her sides, that sly smile revealing the white gleam of her teeth lets out to open knowledge everything she's getting out of it. that dress is too tight to even think about wearing anything underneath and you wonder when that sticky wetness you know she's got to feel is going to start dripping down between those strong boa-constricter-around-your-neck thighs. everything's in slow motion as you watch her writhe on the black tile dancefloor like some kind of predator, untamed but contained within that shell of self-restraint. the song lasted for an eternity, but now she stops in her lonely, chilly circle with the last strum of the last few melody piano plunks of the last dischordant chord. she turns and suddenly pivits on her six inch stilletto, fuck-with-me-and-i'll-impale-you-with-them heels to look straight into your eyes, pulling aside the thick vines of protein strands to give you your first unobstructed view of her face while the suckers and lonely assholes in the audience applaud for the live jazz beat band for beatniks, and somewhere half-heartedly in the back of your mind you wonder how much of that applause and recognition is for her. she blinks slowly at you before walking with deliberate and calculated strides to the coatrack by the door. slipping her arms carefully into the sleeves of her dirty leather overcoat, she bends to hitch up her skirt a little for you and the other twenty lusty loosers that are staring, and while she adjusts the tops of her boots, she offers you just another quick glance of those hard emeralds, as if drawing and pulling you in and inviting you. "come with me," a whisper in your ear and in her eyes. she pushes open the heavy oak door only partially to allow her frame to slip out of the steam and take her circle of cold clear thought and want and passion and animal, all out into the darkness of the alley behind the club full of sexual frustated addicts and nympho virgin sluts. you can't move for a minute, you can't move, but you pull free of that haze and fog of tension and smoke and frustration of that room with the slanted lights. the first plunks of the next song in that sexy g minor 1, 4, 5 progression are starting to sizzle throughout the room and the testosterone-plagued scavangers turn back to look for some other exotic beauty to remain forever foreign to. you look for just a minute across the room as if it had all been a dream, then remember that ass, those nipples, the hard gems of her eyes and walk in uneven, unsure steps to the door to find that forever, that nothing, that forbidden wonder, "she'd never want me...", those thoughts that plague you, but she had been looking right to the core of you and it's not over yet...
to be continued.
- fallen
previous thoughts of the day
Jesus.
I'm doubting everything lately... RohanDor
Pride noiraranea
"I am woman" dollpini
the Dream Train
excerpts
I Do Not Want This... by Trent
There once was a little girl... 2 (y'all better read this one...)
Everything
Thank You
Wrestling Woman Inards
School and Psychoanalysis...
Vengeance!!!
Brandon
listening to Bush and feeling sassy...
The once was a little girl.... 1
I want to believe
Timing by RohanDor
...for you have left your first love.
On Love
the Mystical, Magic Land of Algebra2
Something Wicked This Way Comes
What does one do?
Cold Sweat Nightmares
Hate Me
Personal Inventory by Dollphini
First Contact, with Kyle
:::whispers::: Lime-Green Elephant
"They say that sex between two people who really hate each other..."
Boys are Yucky
What happens if we all fall down?
Vegas
BluesMan84
Politics and Wealth
The Nature of God
The Nature of Man
Beauty
Only the Good Die Young by Dollphini
Ode to Shawn
poetry
the embrace
about me
links
© 1998 UrielsPoet@aol.com
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