Light in Her Eyes

Dancer smiles sweetly to me as she sits down with me. She's transitioning her mind to me after dances with another. "Is he a regular?" I ask to break the ice. And she winces. Then smiles and says "I prefer 'sponsor'". It's cute.

Dancer is feeling a little ragged - hard night of partying the night before. But she's radiant still. There a light in Dancer's eyes that says that this is a young girl who enjoys life. "You changed your hair", say I and the wattage in her eyes increases. "You noticed" she says with glee. "It's very glamorous" I offer. And now she's beaming. "That's exactly what I was going for". And the raggedness has evaporated.

And we dance. We have before - on the couch and in private - and we will again.

Dancer is special. It's not only that she's drop dead gorgeous, with a graceful athletic body (and the perfect ass!). What makes her special is that she truly is a dancer, both on the main stage and in our private time. On the stage she's all grace and beauty with a natural feel for the music and a comfort and style with the pole. Mesmerizing. In private she's graceful still with smooth ballets of transition from straddle to layback to splayed across my lap to arched back presented to me.

And we touch. And Dancer has the smoothest skin, and the tightest back, and the leanest legs. And the glamorous hair caresses me as we almost-makeout, cheek to cheek, breath to breath. And my fingertips memorize her body from the nape of her beautiful neck down her shoulders and alonside her delicate ribs and across her hips and settle on the smallest most delicious ass I've ever had the pleasure to cradle in my lucky palms. And we grind and we move to the music. And we please each other within the limits of our artificial world.

To Dancer: I'll treasure the light in your eyes and the grace in your movement. Thank you, baby.