TITLE : Kink

AUTHOR : Gomey

ARCHIVE : Anywhere...just let me know so I can brag. Hehe.



DISCLAIMER : All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.

SUMMARY : Step Four. Ignore the emptiness.

NOTES : Experiment - it's the only way to gain experience. I'm trying out a new fragmented, first person narrative type of style...it's more of a monologue that I wrote, with Catherine in mind.

Vertical. In the land of make believe, up is down and left is right. Right is wrong and wrong - well, there is no wrong here. Being bad is good and being good pays the bills.

Pole. Leg. Slide.

Slide all the way down to the floor. Cat pose. Claws out. Hiss. Bear your teeth. They like it when you bear your teeth. Cat walk. Slink. Shoulders following the hands' exaggerated steps.

Step one. Look at my paws, boys. They want me to paw at them. Touch them. Touch me. I opt for the latter, and run my finger from my pouted lips down my neck. Finger two, three, four and five soon join and my hand fondles its way down to my chest.

Step two - breast one. We meet, greet and take a seat. I sit, legs spread open. F-word meets the G-string as I expose. The hoots are getting louder, but inside it's deafening. Flexible beast thrills the interested and intrigues the defiants.

Same crowd, new night. New costume, same feeling. Dead. Inside and out, I'd be prettier on the slab. Bend over and gyrate. Follow the beat - two, three, four. Thrust - two, three, four. And pretend to be interested...two, three, four. I count the steps to the edge of the stage - five, six, seven and fall to my knees - eight, nine, ten. Touch me only if you have the money. The bouncers eye me eyeing them. No mischief here, but on the other side, anxiety roars.

Step three. Shmooze. My body loves all but my heart detests. They look at me. That's all the they do, they look at me. Snap my fingers and their eyes caress. And sway of the hip. Flesh glistens. Sweat drips. Smell descends. And sway of the hip.

Step four. Ignore the emptiness. Wait for the paycheck. Feel the beat and follow your body. Back on stage, encore number three. They love you.

No...no, they want you.

You want to love them. They want you to want them. You want them to love you.

Step five. Find your escape. Even if you never get to the door, find your route. Mine's of a tender blue. Allows me to move without tension, my instrument almost at his control. My puppet-master.

He never took control - I gave it. Begged him to take it. His eyes coach me. Coach me off stage. Act finished. He's had enough. Enough of this scene. Enough of me in this scene. He wants my future bright, not artificially lit by smoky orbs.

Jacket draped, we sit in a tense silence. Encore finished, act never to be redone. I finally reached my door. Outside the door, a labyrinth awakens. Lost. No map. No compass. Just him.

Calm. Calm like his eyes. Crystal blues that reflect the sea on the calmest day. Mine are wild, I know it. I can see the tempest waves crashing against each other in his pure pools.

Crash. Bash. Smash.

Will the storm pass? The clouds are moving, another transition rolls away. It used to get me off...the cold metallic pole used to satisfy my thrill. The simple blast of ice as soon as my inner thigh touched the expected chilled pole, sent shivers coursing through my veins. The good kind of shivers.

I'm antsy. It used to get me off...the powder. White and fluffy. It made me feel white and fluffy. No...sands have shifted there too. The white crystals no longer entice.

What gets me off now? Him. Blue eyes over there. Calm and controlled, somewhat of a hermit, ol' blue eyes. Tingles every time he comes near. Shivers every time he speaks. Quivers every time he looks at me. Love...every time he cares.

I don't need those other things to get me off anymore.

Meet my best friend - my kink.