Private Dancer - Part 3

At the end of the class, Ariane stayed behind a little to talk to the instructor, her eyes casually wandering to where Darren had been standing earlier. He wasn’t there. She started to breathe a sigh of relief until she saw Darren striding purposefully towards her and the instructor. Catching her breath, she turned to say something smart to him when he kissed the instructor gently on the cheek. Turning back to her, he said, “You made it out. Great”. The instructor laughed. “You know her too, Darren? Who don’t you know?” Darren chuckled. “This is my new Wii buddy from earlier. Ariane, right?” Ariane nodded, puzzled. As she opened her mouth to say something else, Darren said, “Ariane, this is Daria, my twin sister, and owner of this dance school”. Ariane’s mouth dropped open. Thanking Daria for the class and wishing Darren well, she bid them both so long and ran out before she could catch herself saying anything else.

Weeks went by and Ariane would see Darren off and on, occasionally in Target, sometimes when she was out and about, but mostly hanging around at the dance school, which had become somewhat of a release for her once a week after work. One particular night, she stayed after class, after all her fellow classmates were gone, to work out a little by herself and think. In the adjacent dance room, she heard R. Kelly’s reggae infused R&B song playing, the slow dancehall inspired rhythm tickling the adjoining walls. Curious, she walked over slowly, wondering what new moves Daria was cooking up on the other side.

What she saw surprised her.

Darren, in loose navy blue sweats, Timberlands, and a white wife beater, was sliding across the floor, combining street dancing with a smooth Caribbean whine, his pelvis thrusting the floor and then up again into this sort of spin, she might call it…either way, she was amazed. Darren’s fluid movements spoke of a seasoned dancer with years of experience. Ariane watched in awe at every created movement, every sensual piece of choreography perfectly staged. It was…so…sexy. She couldn’t stop watching. Her body moved in tune to the music almost involuntarily. Before she knew it, she had found her way inside the steamy dance studio, her hips moving independently of her body, her steps matching Darren’s as if in a trance. Darren looked up and saw Ariane there, her pecan sandie skin glistening in the studio lights, her purple leggings a second skin, her matching sports bra barely covering her mounds.

They assessed each other’s movements silently. Never had sweat seemed so erotic.

Darren opened his mouth to speak first. Ariane shook her head. Emboldened, she walked up to him, her hips swaying in time to the music. Standing face to face with him, she wet her lips, and, as if in slow motion, leaned in and licked Darren’s collarbone gently, so gently that had it not been for Darren’s narrowing eyes, one might not have realized what happened. Reaching the base of his neck, she lightly bit him and then kissed him there before stepping back, tenderly pulling on the skin there, . Darren grabbed the waistband of her pants and, pulling her back towards him, touched the base of her lips with his and held it there, his eyes glancing down her face, her eyes closed. Pulling away, he backed up a little, leaving Ariane confused. His voice was hoarse as he said, “Your turn”.

Their movements became their own lambada, each matched dance step its own version of foreplay. Darren's steps were a sensual tease for Ariane, who followed closely. During the moments their bodies would connect, their eyes locked and held. Their hands betrayed their minds - as Ariane trailed behind Darren, she allowed her hands to trail across Darren's broad, muscular back. "Damn", she muttered to herself. He was hiding a lot underneath those suits. Darren paused and turned quickly, his chest to hers, their chocolate and caramel sweat mingling. The two stood there, assessing each other, as Jodeci sang about what they wanted to do.The decision became apparent in Darren's eyes as he backed up slowly, his eyes still locked on hers. Ariane felt more naked and exposed from his stare than she ever had on anyone's pole. Darren lifted his now soaked wifebeater off and tossed it to the ground as Ariane watched, her eyes widening slightly. The tattoo of a breakdancing music scale peered back at her from his left bicep. She found herself drawn to it - to him...

To be continued...

Private Dancer - Part 2

As she finally stepped out of the shower, her fingers pruned, she felt her nipples stand at attention, the cold air hitting them like ice. Her body had never gone so long without that much needed release. Unlike others in her previous profession, she genuinely enjoyed the sexual games she played with others, the rush she felt when using her mouth and her tongue to submit someone into pleasure...the level of control she felt when pinning someone down and having her way with them....the arousal that came with watching someone else squirm in ecstasy. She missed having that kind of hold over someone, almost as much as she missed being caressed and touched.

Ariane changed and headed to the local Target to pick up some items before her shift. Doing a quick check in the mirror, she approved of what she saw: simple, clean face, sprinkled with tiny moles across her pecan sandie skin, a spot of lip gloss on her heart shaped lips, her almond shaped eyes dotted by naturally long lashes, long-ish hair blow dried straight, pulled back into a ponytail, simple diamonds in her ears. Acceptable. She took down her shades from the compartment above her head, grabbed her keys, her purse, and her IPod, and trekked inside the Target. She headed into electronics, where a tower of Nintendo Wii boxes greeted her, the ads all pointing to the Wii Fit game, as well as other Wii games. As she reached up to grab a box, the boxes began to wiggle a little and some fell off the side. Startled, she stepped back, only for more boxes to tumble. A low and deep baritone voice from behind her touched her shoulder and, gently removing one headphone plug, said, “Why don’t you let me help you, before you hurt yourself”.

Ariane turned around and stared into the eyes of what had to be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

His attire was simple: white and black checked collared shirt, black chinos, a simple black loafer. The hand that lay on her shoulder was perfectly manicured and a smooth milk chocolate, as was the face that spoke to her. He had a low cut Caesar, the wave of his hair accentuated by the cut, and his keen brown eyes peered at her curiously behind square shaped designer frames. He smiled, and all she saw were crisp, white, perfectly shaped teeth. And a dimple.

Oh dear God, he had a dimple.

Trying not to get huffy, she straightened her back, and, gripping the cart tighter, she said, “Do you always take unsuspecting women’s head phones out?” He raised an eyebrow and peered back at her. “I do when they’re seconds away from destroying my store’s display and they can’t hear me when I’m warning them”. He smiled again. “I tried to catch your attention. You had the music blasting. Great song choice, by the way…I always liked Dirty Diana”. Ariane smirked. “This…is your store. If it is, you should tell your employees to fix the display right.” She drew herself up to her full 5 foot 7 height and waited for the retort. She’d heard it all from the men who tried to talk to her. This was sure to be a good one. One of the Target employees walked by, texting on the phone, seemingly oblivious. The gentleman stopped him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Samuel. I know you’re on break and all, but you should be texting in the break room, not on the floor. Can you fix this display for me immediately?” The employee peered at him; frowning, a retort ready, before his face dawned in recognition. “Right away, Mr. Grant. Sorry about that”. The employee put his phone away and got to work fixing the fallen boxes. Mr. Grant turned back to Ariane. “Target offers you their apologies”.

Ariane was stunned silent.

.

Mr. Grant chuckled and extended a hand. “Darren Grant. Senior Buyer, Northeast Region. I oversee this Target’s buying as well as most of the Targets in this region”. Ariane’s mouth dropped open slightly, then she shook her head as if to clear it and gingerly took his hand. Shaking it, she said, “Ariane Ryan. Not usually caught with her foot so deep in her mouth.” Darren laughed; a hearty laugh. “Well Ariane Foot-In-Mouth (wow, that was corny), I’m going to safely grab a Wii and place it in your cart for you, ok? Are you looking for any games in particular?” Ariane snapped out of the daze she found herself in. Shaking her head again, she said, “Wii Fit? Heard a lot about it.” Darren chuckled as he reached for the Wii Fit game from next to the display. Tossing it into the cart as well, he said, “Here it is. Although, I can think of a much better workout for you.” Ariane frowned. Here we go. “And that would be?” “Pole dancing. I hear it’s much more strenuous than most people think. Here’s a card for it.” Reaching into his pants pocket, he handed her a brightly colored postcard with information on pole dancing classes. Ariane rolled her eyes. “Pole dancing. Of course. Thanks, Darren.” She rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving Darren quietly assessing her in her wake. She paid for her Wii, along with a few other items she picked up on her way to the register. Flipping the card Darren gave her over in her hand, she chuckled to herself. “Just when I thought I had met a nice one,” she muttered to herself. Then again, she was a former stripper. Sort of hard to avoid...right? Putting her shades back on and turning her Ipod off, she head back out to her car in the sunshine.

***

It surprised her how packed the pole dancing class was when Ariane walked into the dance studio some hours later, after much internal debate and examining the card Darren had given her earlier. Sure, she was annoyed at the suggestion, but there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t check it out, right? She figured it would be fun to mess around on the pole again. Even though it was a far cry from her formal dance training, it was always fun. The instructor walked each participant through the various moves and when it was Ariane’s turn, she tuned everyone else out, channeled the Trey Songz song playing, and followed the instructor’s directions as she had perceived them. When she finished, she looked around and realized everyone was staring at her, including Darren, who was leaning against the doorjamb at the far end of the room. Her classmates burst into applause, including the instructor, but all Ariane could focus on was Darren’s stare at her from across the room.

Oh Lord. What was he doing here?

Naked With Socks! (and Stroke Development)

Sorry I've been out for a while! I promise you, though, I've been working hard on keeping things hot and spicy...

If the initials NWSO don't sound familiar to you, then you should concentrate on knowing them. NWSO is the acronym for Naked With Socks On, a premier relationship/lifestyle blog. If you don't know about his Wet Wednesdays series in particular...then you're slacking. *wink* Seriously. His site is chock full of helpful info on relationships and the like...and then there's Wet Wednesdays.

*fanning self*

Your girl Kaye, for the last three weeks, has been helping NWSO keep Wet Wednesdays dripping with her installment of The Highest Cost. Today was the steamy conclusion, and I could not be more thrilled at the feedback I've been getting! Thanks to all who enjoyed. If you want to check it out for yourself (as I'm sure that you do), here <--- is where you can find it. Be sure to click the links for Parts 1 and 2 before you get to reading part 3! (It's better that way. Or should I say 'wetter'? *wink*)

Anyway, I'm making it my goal to post something every other Saturday, be it a little anecdotal or a steamy story, starting this Saturday. So look out for it!

And check out NWSO's site. Trust me, it's worth it.