Good evening ladies and gentleman. May I call your attention to the center stage this evening? Posy Churchgate has gracialy agreed to tantalize, to entertain and, to excite us this evening. I give you…
The lights are low, enveloping the diners in darkness and anonymity. Every pair of eyes is on the stage as she weaves her way to the raised area picked out by bright ellipses from the spotlights. Her costume is skimpy, belly-dancer exotic but the main impact is made by the intricate, bright artwork on her skin and glints from the many piercings in her ears, eyebrows, and transdermally on her torso.
We’ve all eaten a fancy meal (included in the price) and enjoyed a cocktail, along with additional drinks to calm our skittish nerves. I’ve never been to a show like this, I hadn’t realised it would be so intimate, that we’d be so close to the stage while the dancers walked between us to get up on the dias to perform. I’m an open minded hetero girl, but my husband and I are here for my titillation as much as his. I’ve revelled in the waitresses, wearing basques, bustiers, stockings and suspenders, who crouched down at our table to take food orders and bent coquettishly over to serve our drinks.
I’m dressed in a pretty dove grey beaded dress, while under it I’m wearing my favourite balconette bra and buttock hugging french knickers. We travelled up to London earlier today and have already indulged in ‘afternoon delight’ at our hotel! I get extra frisky in an anonymous, tasteful hotel room so we’ve had shower sex and my husband’s used love eggs and a silicone dildo on me as I sprawled at his mercy on the rumpled sheets of the king sized bed.
The dancer’s undulations are serpentine and fluid, owing much to belly dancing techniques in in her erotically charged routine, The myriad tiny coins jingle on her outfit and the many hoops with which she is pierced quiver as she moves her limbs looking boneless, like fronds of seaweed rippling underwater. Her torso and arms are bright like a peacock, a decorated canopy of pictures and symbols while her make-up and attitude give her a fierce persona that both repels and fascinates me.
Other girls who had danced for us this evening had been fleshy, their soft curves voluptuous and appealing, and when they shimmied, their buttocks and breasts quivered with aftershocks of movement. We’d been teased with their stripping routines:Shall I show you? Perhaps not yet? Can you glimpse it from behind me? It’s all yours! Feast your eyes on that! We had all applauded (and squeezed our thighs together) to their final reveals of tasselled or sequinned pasties on gently swaying breasts, and curvy derrieres.
Our tattooed dancer’s routine is different, she moves like a reptile, something not quite human in her fluidity. She seems to dance for her own pleasure while doing tricks with knives and swords where we fear she might hurt herself. She’s like a caged beast prowling the stage, posturing and flexing, her body gym hard and uber slender. She scowls at the audience, no coquettish attempt to make us love her like the two previous girls, no her aim is to be remembered and a little feared. Surely in the wild, brightly coloured insects and reptiles are the most poisonous, giving a warning to their predators.
Her last, longest, sword swallowed (well, held in her throat and then removed for the audience to admire) she darts off the stage to loud applause and the compare is up again, warning those of us sitting at the front that: we’re all pregnant now, so sexy was that last dancer!
Now’s the time for the audience to let loose. A playlist of disco music begins so drinkers move to the bar while many of the diners get up on the tiny stage to dance. Never before have these people shaken their booty with such abandon, or shimmied up against their friends or lovers with so much pent-up desire. Everyone who has watched the show feels less inhibited, all imagine they have something to prove with their dancing. The majority of us are rampant and horny.
My husband and I get up to leave: the slick in my knickers wants him to rub and fuck me in our hotel room, bending me over to take me from behind, and the tingling ache in his cock is happy to oblige. Afterwards we will flop into our comfortable turned-down bed and hopefully we’ll have time for another memorable fuck tomorrow, before a delicious breakfast.
Posy Churchgate has been writing erotica since 2016, and often shares it on her own blog Posychurchgate@blogspot.com. Posy wants to expand to different genres and styles of erotic writing and reviewing and plans to become a contributor to various other sites.
Happily married and heterosexual, Posy embraces experimentation within her relationship, including something she has experienced in every scenario she creates. “I’ve discovered that my libido is much like a muscle, use it or lose it!” Posy jokes, “so I’m ensuring I give my libido a regular work out to keep a spring in my step!”
You can follow Posy on Twitter @PosyChurchgate or contact her directly firstname.lastname@example.org