Friday, December 17, 2010

Death Meets a Stripper.

Author's note: Don't judge a book by its cover nor a blog by its title.
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The room was dark, but she was clearly visible against the window, silhouetted against the light of the pale moon. In her semi-transparent negligee, I could almost make out the soft promise of warm flesh, almost seeming to glow in the light.
She spun, not quickly, not worriedly, but in the manner of someone who had waited for this moment, calmly, seductively, unhurried, a slight smile on those ruby lips, a slight arch to that thin eyebrow. With a passing glance at the door she shrugged off her ensemble, and stood before me Eve in all her glory. The likes of Salome did not do her justice, I thought, as she danced, slow and seductive, hands high in the air to stretch her body sleek and lean, hips gyrating to a tune only she could hear, for me to discern without knowing. 
And I stood there, harvester, harbinger, even after witnessing so much, she still stunned me with but a glance, telling me to wait and enjoy, listen and admire.
The music changed, abruptly, I could see in her movements. When she had moved aloof, afar, a prize out of reach but forever in sight, now she turned teasingly, coming closer and closer, within the reach of my hands but darting out just before my fingers closed on warm skin. A pristine laugh escaped her as I missed once more and she danced away, out of reach again, content to watch me snarl from where she'd bound me.
Then once more she changed. Smooth and direct her movements, her leg extended with a grace only fit for an emperor's ballet, her knee coming up to her belly, then flexing, gently curving back down to the floor, and she jumped back smoothly into reach.. and this time I did not falter and trapped my prize.
With a smile and a pale hand on my cheek, she came into my embrace- and we descended into my domain of darkness and peace.. the room stood empty, her scent the only trace left of her in this world and life.