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Something to whet your appetites...
14 years ago
General
The SOKOL, City of New Kiev...
The slow roll of a steel-string send-up, rippling over a throbbing base-beat that was pure, distilled Southern rhythm, came pouring out of the sound-system like a sloop slipping across the Delta bayou. A woman’s alto harmonized along -- sounding like pure sex appeal mixed in with a healthy dose of fine whiskey and wood smoke.
As the music filled the club, Randall only got a brief warning from the amused look Amber sent his way, before he turned towards the main stage . . . .
There, behind the gossamer curtain that covered the middle portion of the backdrop, the spotlight shining through captured the silhouette of a curvy, sensual body; back arched, bottom out, with both hands lifting a long tumble of curly hair before letting it slide through ten teasing fingers. The dancer turned with the beat, seeming to caress her body from throat to hips, before they reached out and parted the curtain with a flap.
At that moment, the light from behind blinked off, and the lone spotlight from behind the seating area flashed out to capture an image that burned into Randall’s brain like the exposure of an old-style photograph. Swallowing thickly, Randall couldn’t help but stare, as this sight before him was certain to remain much longer than any old photograph could ever hope to achieve.
There, bracketed in the spotlight, Pavel’s new dancer stared out over the club. Her coffee-brown eyes held a mixture of playful humor and smoldering sensuality; a vibe that rumbled across the club as she slowly rolled a stroll down the center of the stage. Her body was barely covered by a thin red crop top and red, high-cut panties, which let her brown and white fur show as she slowly twirled around on the stage’s center pole. She stopped with her back to the trio watching her; revealing a rather fetching rump -- complete with a cute cottontail -- which she wiggled before turning to grin as she held out a hand in a faux “Stop” gesture. She then flirted a moue with her lips, tossing both her hair and her long, lop-ears over to one side. Staring out with a gaze that could have melted pig-iron into a puddle in seconds, she turned back to the pole to twirl slowly around it.
Beside Randall, Amber shook her head and chuckled. “Girl’s still got it, eh Markov?” Her whiskers twitched as she smiled, watching as the dancer easily and slowly worked the pole in several easy moves.
“To be certain, pet,” Markov said. “Is like our little Clover never left the stage all those months ago.”
Randall managed to force the words out with a choked whisper, asking, “She . . . worked here, before--?”
“Da, though not too long ago,” Markov said. “Was only part-time, during Amanda’s summer break . . . two years ago.”
Amber nodded. “Her cousin almost had a fit. But, she was eightteen and well and willing to give our work a try.” She glanced over at Randall and, seeing the utter gobsmacked look on his feline face she chuckled. “Oh dear. We’d better watch this one, Markov . . . I think your chef is rather, smitten, with, our kitten!”
Glancing over, Markov only grinned. “Ah, is so.”
Randall barely heard little else. His entire being was focused on the exotic rabbit on the stage -- now uncoiling herself from a inverted split -- and it was clear he wasn’t just smitten. From the rapid breaths and slightly glazed look in his eyes, the sun leopard was clearly in lust with the saucy redhead on the stage.
*Song Inspiration "Black Velvet" by Alannis Morriset"
-- Stephen
The slow roll of a steel-string send-up, rippling over a throbbing base-beat that was pure, distilled Southern rhythm, came pouring out of the sound-system like a sloop slipping across the Delta bayou. A woman’s alto harmonized along -- sounding like pure sex appeal mixed in with a healthy dose of fine whiskey and wood smoke.
As the music filled the club, Randall only got a brief warning from the amused look Amber sent his way, before he turned towards the main stage . . . .
There, behind the gossamer curtain that covered the middle portion of the backdrop, the spotlight shining through captured the silhouette of a curvy, sensual body; back arched, bottom out, with both hands lifting a long tumble of curly hair before letting it slide through ten teasing fingers. The dancer turned with the beat, seeming to caress her body from throat to hips, before they reached out and parted the curtain with a flap.
At that moment, the light from behind blinked off, and the lone spotlight from behind the seating area flashed out to capture an image that burned into Randall’s brain like the exposure of an old-style photograph. Swallowing thickly, Randall couldn’t help but stare, as this sight before him was certain to remain much longer than any old photograph could ever hope to achieve.
There, bracketed in the spotlight, Pavel’s new dancer stared out over the club. Her coffee-brown eyes held a mixture of playful humor and smoldering sensuality; a vibe that rumbled across the club as she slowly rolled a stroll down the center of the stage. Her body was barely covered by a thin red crop top and red, high-cut panties, which let her brown and white fur show as she slowly twirled around on the stage’s center pole. She stopped with her back to the trio watching her; revealing a rather fetching rump -- complete with a cute cottontail -- which she wiggled before turning to grin as she held out a hand in a faux “Stop” gesture. She then flirted a moue with her lips, tossing both her hair and her long, lop-ears over to one side. Staring out with a gaze that could have melted pig-iron into a puddle in seconds, she turned back to the pole to twirl slowly around it.
Beside Randall, Amber shook her head and chuckled. “Girl’s still got it, eh Markov?” Her whiskers twitched as she smiled, watching as the dancer easily and slowly worked the pole in several easy moves.
“To be certain, pet,” Markov said. “Is like our little Clover never left the stage all those months ago.”
Randall managed to force the words out with a choked whisper, asking, “She . . . worked here, before--?”
“Da, though not too long ago,” Markov said. “Was only part-time, during Amanda’s summer break . . . two years ago.”
Amber nodded. “Her cousin almost had a fit. But, she was eightteen and well and willing to give our work a try.” She glanced over at Randall and, seeing the utter gobsmacked look on his feline face she chuckled. “Oh dear. We’d better watch this one, Markov . . . I think your chef is rather, smitten, with, our kitten!”
Glancing over, Markov only grinned. “Ah, is so.”
Randall barely heard little else. His entire being was focused on the exotic rabbit on the stage -- now uncoiling herself from a inverted split -- and it was clear he wasn’t just smitten. From the rapid breaths and slightly glazed look in his eyes, the sun leopard was clearly in lust with the saucy redhead on the stage.
*Song Inspiration "Black Velvet" by Alannis Morriset"
-- Stephen
