Don't forget - there's still time to go to the page above for our Storytime Trysts Valentine's Giveaway!!
I guide you across the stage, enveloping you with a soft glow; your clothes neat, tidy, not a hair out of place. You are in control of the audience, your voice and your actions, appealing to those who gaze upon you, entrancing them. Your suit a soft grey, so ordinary, so plain and yet my light touches the barest hint of what is to come. The glint in your eyes as you hungrily watch the woman who glides across the stage past you. Gracefully, her black gauze dress swirls around her as she moves. My soft glow enhancing her features, highlighting her innocence, capturing her curls, a halo dancing around her body as she curtsies. The audience knows what is to come and yet I allow them to be fooled, drawn into the simplicity of their entrance, wit and charm. Her smile enraptures them; his self deprecating laugh holds their hearts firm. The connection between Compere and audience bound together as tightly as the very beams of light that orchestrate this scene.
I’m standing on the stage now. I can hear the band waiting, their breathing and the crowd; ah the crowd. How I adore the crowds. Over time as I speak they become mine, they and I walking through this journey together as lovers. They follow my every word, their emotions dictated by my hand. I am sick in my stomach, my body churning as it always does before the show. My heart racing though the band is playing as I begin my story. I cannot hear anything but my words and my heart. Its beat a sharp staccato rhythm. As the music comes to its crescendo, the routine a comforting welcoming blanket around my shoulders.
I have them in my hand, just as I appear to have this beautiful morsel. I am talking to her, they can see that but to each lady in the crowd I am talking to them and them alone as each man watches her hungrily.
My movements delicate and slow, somehow totally innocent. Yet they ooze sex, my words mimicking this torturous blur, each innocent gesture and word seemingly more obscene than any depraved act seen on this stage before.
I’m raised into the air just a foot, only I can smell the leather, the sweat and the strain we are under. I feel the taut wire cutting into my flesh. But to them I am floating, the master of all. I survey the demon incubus taking this girl through a journey. I smile beatifically at this group, consumed by the character I portray. They are mine.