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Mauve High Drifter
d42956
>>792356
>“Oh, please, I know I’m special… we all are… it’s more of a question… are we special?”
"I very much hope so."
>“Indeed… but there’s the thing. If I may be completely honest, I’m more intrigue by all this teasing and going back and forth than the… end goal, so to speak. It’s just… the last few years I’ve had trouble getting really fired up about it… it’s gotten just so… dull, hmm? And I don’t want your first experience be with someone you can’t really please. Your first experience should be with someone that’s equally into it as you are, no?”
Focus on this.
"If it's been years since you can find excitement and thrill from the act, then I do believe I'm not the only one with a problem that needs solving. And yours seems no less important than mine, for you know exactly what you're missing but with no idea how to get it back. I can see now why you pressed so hard for details, if speaking of the details is the only thing you find motivating anymore."
>>Tell her that you'd like to try teasing her again, and bringing her right to the edge, to see if she'd get off from the lightest caress after that.
>“Hmhm… y-you… y-y-you really t-think you can do that to me? Bring me to the edge, hmm? I’ve been with people way more experienced than you that have failed… hmhm…”
"In all honesty, I consider myself lucky that the one area you need most is one in which physical performance or experience may be the least required. I might not be able to keep up on skill, but words are something I may yet manage with, judging by your reactions earlier. Just how much further might that blush have extended, had I continued? You seemed to have more than enough verve at the time, scrambling to throw yourself from me yet not quite bringing yourself to flinch too far.
I do believe I've found myself a singular goal and focus for the evening, then, and a realistic if challenging one at that: to either return to you a zest for pleasure again, or to make a sufficiently strong effort as to give you hope that such a thing might be possible in time, and thus earn the opportunity to try once more in the future."
> there is something that I… I want you to have… and to… mmm… experience… if you wouldn’t mind? You won’t mind leaving the dessert for later so I can… mmm… make you experience something special, hmm?”
> Once again, she slowly drags her tongue across the side of your neck…
How sure are you, based on what must surely have been much private experimentation, that you could manage to continue afterward and not collapse in exhaustion if she does this?
> “Something we should do somewhere a bit more… private?”
"Private? You must think me either prudish or oblivious if I've so badly ignored you thus far. I would be more than happy to enjoy whatever you have to offer, but perhaps somewhere a bit more...enjoyable for you as well."
Specifically:
> Her lapping of your neck seems to intensify when you mention the window…
> “…I do have a several large windows overlooking the main hall, yes… and a balcony… what are you thinking, hmm?”
Stand up, and gesture for her to lead the way there. Make sure the lights are at the right level, where you can still see her but the window will mostly acts as a one-way mirror. And this time, keep the teasing going as long as you can manage. Spread it out, let it last, keep it going, and let your hands wander only when you reach the most opportune moment.
"I am thinking that your club needs a new regular, unofficial attraction for its guests. A set of windows visible from the main hall, in view of hundreds of guests, through which a wandering eye might on occasion start to glimpse a suggestive shadow. Nothing definitive, but enough to start rumors and whispers.
Soon, others might cast a careful look, skeptical but not quite enough to ignore it. Those unlucky enough to see nothing may dismiss it, while those lucky enough to see something may fuel the fires of imagination. They might say that on occasion, you can make out a serpentine figure, and a second shadow that blends into the first.
They might hint, as much from fervent hope as second-hand truth, that on a truly lucky night the lights are slightly higher, enough to give an occasional glimpse of skin, in two different tones. Just enough that the mind completes the picture in whatever way the observer might hope. Perhaps on occasion, once in a blue moon, the balcony door stays open just a crack, where a careful or sensitive ear might pick up the slightest noise over the thumping of the club: a rhythmic, moist sound; a faint skritching; the occasional moan; even a hint of a syllable from a name, stoking the fantasies of any who might imagine it part of their own.
Someone might take those fantasies home with them. Or, just think, someone might get so carried away in those fantasies that they cannot hold it in, and they retire to a restroom, or to a quiet booth in the corner. Perhaps alone, or perhaps to cuddle with a partner that has seen the same sights and heard the same sounds they have. A few of those might even know whose window this is, and build a clearer scene in their minds, almost as if they were standing...right there...watching.
And they might one day say that, on nights when a show on the main club stage occupies the undivided attention of most, when the hot spotlights all point that way, and loud sounds and smells consume the senses, that someone in the back who let their attention wander might notice figures moving on the outside of the dark balcony, out of the spotlight and contrast. As they shake those they brought with them, who reluctantly turn away from the stage, the figures begin to shift, and the motion becomes, for a moment, unmistakable for anything else. The shape of a head, moving from low on a serpentine form to meet in a kiss, both shadows meeting at the waist, and beginning to move against each other, dancing the oldest dance in the universe.
The small group, shocked, transfixed, murmurs to themselves a bit in disbelief. The figures accelerate, as a few more in that part of the crowd wonder what their neighbors are looking at and why they've lost interest in the show. One member of the band notices a dozen members of the crowd not looking their way, and smiles, knowing exactly what has captivated them and not resenting it in the slightest. She looks out over the crowd and winks, and the crowd swoons thinking it is for them, but you know exactly who it was aimed at. And she begins to play her part all the more energetically, knowing what's to come.
And as the band reaches its crescendo, a wave of sound radiating through the room that you can feel resonating through your very bones, the two shadows fully merge into one, leaving no gap between them, and many in that crowd will swear for the rest of their lives that they could hear a harmony of two moans abruptly cut off into wordlessness, and a few could just barely hear a voice calling out at the height of pleasure, rapturously calling out a name that none would have dared to presume, a name forever associated in their minds with that moment...
Zalia.
But before any more who heard can turn around, the figures have vanished, leaving many wondering how much was real and how much was their fevered imagination, but certain that they will be returning to many more shows. And they dare not tell their friends of this most definitive detail, for no one who had not seen it for themselves would ever believe them. But they'll return time and again in the hopes that they might see and hear it again, and hoping beyond hope that someone with them will hear as well, that they can share the experience and know it did not occur merely inside their own mind. And meanwhile, a precious few might dare to replicate a mere shadow of the experience themselves, and surely if the name they heard was real, then this club would be the one place they could try it. And so the next time you go through your club, when you see a couple or a trio cuddling close amidst a pile of pillows, and you happen to catch their eye, you might wonder just what they're doing, and give them a wink, and and at the very sight of the one who unknowingly encouraged them, you might see them both shudder and take on the unmistakable look of release, fueled not only by their partner but by their own mind comparing the sensual form in front of them with the figure of legend from the unforgettable balcony."
"... That, Madame, is what I was thinking."
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