The Dance

On the outside the club looked like any other seedy, rundown doorway littering the Rue de Macmont. The red paint peeling the iron hinges on the door rusted, scraped and rusted again. The sign, hanging limply on the old stonewall read simply “Flamenco”. To the unaware it might have been an old shoe store the windows having been blacked by a can of flat black years before. The magic and mystery that lay beyond the threshold, hidden to the world passing by.

Behind those doors lived a world seldom seen by those who came to see the Arch de Triumph, or those who lurked in the shadows waiting for the infamous street elite of Paris to line the ancient Rue. To anyone who cared to notice, the lone shapely figure that emerged from the Metro stop was completely out of place. Her clothes were not that of one of Paris’ cheap perfumed ladies of the evening. Her walk was a studied grace belying a kinder upbringing. She walked straight to the door as she had done a hundred times before, looking neither to the left nor right, but kept her eyes and face hidden under the delicate black lace shawl.

The click of her heels on the cobblestone echoed softly down the Rue like a lone drip of a leaky faucet. Quickly across the street she strode for she was all too aware that this was not the “best” place for her to be alone, unescorted. As she reached the door her slender arm emerged, porcelain against the black of her shawl. She gripped the ancient knocker and rapped only once, it opened in a moment and silently closed behind her. It’s smooth gliding motion the first hint that all was not what it seemed beyond. She stood in the vestibule, really just a small hallway, as the door man took her delicate lace with the respect due a regular customer and nodding to a hidden camera a door slid open to let her slip inside.

The “Flamenco” was alive, bursting the senses with sultry light cascading through billowing clouds of cigarette and cigar smoke. The music straining to be heard above the hushed roar of intimate conversations and heated debates. Here the world of the night came to play. Artists, designers, singers, movie stars, the title glitteratti, they were all there for the “Flamenco” was the place to not be seen. Here everyone came to blend into a world where they were no one special.

No cameras, no screaming fans, no paparazzi. Here the famous weren’t. The lady was Anna, and all anyone knew was she was someone who wanted no one to know about her. She went to her table, a small one at the side of the dance floor half-hidden in shadow and took her seat, always reserved for her. In truth Anna owned the “Flamenco," but in reality the “Flamenco” owned Anna. Here no one asked about her past and she could finally stop looking over her shoulder for Andre at the door would let no one harm her, he would die first.

Looking around the room Anna found herself smiling, something she did more and more in the comfort of this oasis. Her green eyes sparkled as she let them wonder tonight’s guest. Yes she knew them all, even the ones who didn’t know her. Jose, the hottest new designer of the strip, was at his booth with his usual entourage of stunning models and even more stunning boys.

At the bar was Halina the talk of Cannes this year hanging on the shoulder of Jerome, the poet singer of acoustic fame. What a sight they were, she a ravishing bottle blonde from Israel, with her perfect body sculpted by the infamous Dr. LeBlanc, and Germ, really Jerry from Jersey, with his dark brooding gangster good looks and painfully studied Parisian accent. Oh yes they were made for each other. Anna laughed inside because she knew all the stories, all the sullied past of her clientele, yet they knew nothing of hers, only her name and her face. Only a few had heard her voice and she liked it that way.

Tonight was a special night at the “Flamenco," tonight she had booked an act she had followed for almost a year now, Alberto & Toria, a Flamenco team form America that had Europe at their feet. They had drawn massive crowds at Cannes where they debuted their new film title simply, “The Dance”. They had taken dance to a new dimension, and turned it into an illustration of love and hate, good and evil, the passion had jumped off the screen leaving the audiences sweating, breathless. And she had brought them here to her club, her home, to dance for her. Tonight would be special indeed, more special for Anna than she could possibly imagine.

Backstage Alberto and Toria were enjoying a pre-show ritual, spying on the audience. This was s crucial moment in their show for they used audience members for inspiration and “props” in their show. They would combine their dance and strategic people to heighten the drama, the impact of particular segments of their show. Unwittingly audience members would be drawn into the “action” the dance revolving around and between them, often times bringing laughter and fears to the surface.

Toria had picked Jerome out from across the room and remembered him from the cattle calls in New York City, she mused how it would be fun to expose him to this inside crowd. It would be so easy to entice him into her web and dismantle him in front of everyone. But no, he was not the choice for tonight. While she had been scanning the crowd, enjoying the posturing of this who’s who of the European jet set, Alberto’s eyes had been fixed on one lone figure.

Since the moment she entered the room alone and had carefully navigated the crowd so as not to draw ant attention he hadn’t taken his eyes from her. He had watch Anna slip into the shadows of her table and seen how her green eyes had scanned the crowd. Watched in quiet thought as she smiled demurely at the scene. There was something about this creature that engaged him like a magnet drawing steel against its will. This woman would the focus of the dance this evening. Toria and he would bring their passion, drawing the entire room into her world for a brief moment in time where they would see what he had sensed lay inside from the moment she first appeared. Alberto knew beauty and elegance, style and substance when he saw it and this woman was more than he had ever thought existed.

“Torie, look over here.” Alberto whispered. “The woman in black, in the shadows at the edge of the dance floor, tell me what you see.” Toria followed his gaze and understood immediately. “Yes,” she whisper back, nodding her head in approval. In her mind she was thinking how striking this woman was and finding it odd that she should hide. The more she looked the more she agreed with Alberto, the woman was perfect. In fact she was perfect for more than just this performance.

Toria slipped her arms around Alberto and encircled his waist, pulling herself tight against his back, pressing her full breasts against him. Letting her hands slowly stroke his hips then around to his front, she nuzzled her lips against his ear and softly spoke to him as she found his manhood stirring in his pants, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking”? He merely nodded never removing his eyes from Anna for a moment. “Good,” Toria said as she licked his neck and bit his ear, “We will she if she’s willing after the show.”

The lights dimmed, and the music suddenly changed, every eye is the house turned to the stage even though there was no announcement it was only to obvious that something extraordinary was about to begin. The curtains open to reveal what appeared to be a lone figure silhouetted against an azure sky, the lights streaking the darkness above and casting shadows along the floor.

The music came from all around, nothing that anyone had ever heard before, more a woeful moan than a chord. Then they started to move and the audience gasped when they realized that it was two not one that they saw. Alberto and Toria, male and female, two halves of a whole, it was like seeing the true nature of man for the first time. Man and woman as one, and so the dance began. The music moved one to remember the best moments of love, when time stood still and all you could feel was pleasure. Tall and strong auburn haired, long legs that had neither beginning nor end seemed to go on forever. Physically they fit into each other perfectly.

Their muscles rippled and glistened like a statue from a bygone era. They moved as one and when they were parted you couldn’t wait for them to reunite, you could feel their essence in every breath in the room, as the room breathed as one, in unison with them. As the tempo grew so did the passion of the dance and you felt as though they were joined in ecstasy on display for the world to see, but their passion was merely fuel for the fire that burned in the bodies of all who watched.

Bodies pressed close, the scent of desire hung like the air of a hot humid night, so thick you had difficulty breathing. Hands caressed and sweat beaded on the brows of all who watched and it streamed down the bodies of Alberto and Toria. The music built to a crescendo, pulsing and pounding, pushing the dancers to a powerful climax at the feet of Anna table, as the spotlight captured the three of them in a breathless climax.

Anna had heard the stories, but nothing could have prepared her for the impact that these two had on her. From the moment the dance began their eyes had locked, all three of them, the electricity pulling her spirit from the table she was one with them. She could feel their passionate, urgent need. A desire she had buried long ago came like a flood that she could not stem. Washing over her body and soul she was powerless against their seduction. When they touched each other it was as though their hands were caressing her body, pressing their hips to hers. The sweet salty taste of their sweat filled her mouth and with each beat of the music she could feel them moving inside her body as if she was physically filled.

Wave after wave of passion exploded inside until she too was on the verge of climax. How could she be feeling this overwhelming desire? She had not been touched. She had not even spoken to these angels, no devils, no wonderful lovers, and yet there she was breathless with them, encased in their light, as silence engulfed the room. Every eye was on them. The shadows pushed away by the glow of the spotlight. No one moved. No one could quite comprehend what they had just witnessed, what they had just experienced.

Everyone was suddenly aware of the beauty of not just the dancers but the mysterious dark haired beauty, the three of them looking like an erotic Raphael painting. The dancers locked in a passionate embrace while the lady of the night looked on with lust in her eyes. It only lasted a moment then the room erupted in wild applause. Anna joined in the applause and as she stood she subtly slipped back into the shadows and the room forgot her to focus on the marvel they would remember always as the dance.

Alberto and Toria took their bows and then vanished as they had come leaving the room in a roar as everyone recounted what they thought they alone had seen. Alberto and Toria knew what they had seen, Anna was theirs, and they both knew that they wanted her as much as she wanted them.

Anna stood in the shadows, the blood pounding in her head, her breathing slowly returning to normal, but no, she would never be the same. These feeling, dormant for so long were back with a rage even she could not comprehend. She had to touch them, talk to them, but this was crazy. She had sworn off men so long ago and women had never interested her in that way. What were these feelings, could she ignore the burning desire that they had shared in their eyes?

Dazed and confused she returned to her table to contemplate what she had done to her very orderly, safe life. “Torie, wear your shimmering gold mini tonight,” Alberto suggested. Toria new what he wanted. The dress fit her like a skin and in the right light she would appear naked, dressed only in glitter. The dress always got Alberto excited, especially when she wore it with thigh high stockings and her tallest strappy heels like she would tonight. She would be naked underneath, accessible to his hands and who ever else might reach under her dress. The thought made her nipples hard. Alberto wore black, he always wore black. Elegant silk pants and shirt with nothing underneath but his hard muscled body.

She knew if she wanted she could slide her hands over his pants and feel the ridges of his manhood. She also knew that if she lingered he would grow in her hand for never would he stop her for he was insatiable. But that would be later, first there was Anna. They had asked the stage manager to send a bottle of Renee LaLue to her table with three glasses and a note asking permission to join her. The knock at the door was accompanied with the note, returned with the addition of only one word…Please. Alberto took Toria into his arms and looked deep into her eyes, “Let’s make this a night for all of us to remember,” and he kissed her long and deep their tongues meeting in an electric spark. When they parted Toria looked at him with a slight smile and a lustful gleam in her eyes, she whispered, “with pleasure.”

When they arrived at the table Anna was gone and in her place a note which had only an address on it, on the Rive Gauche, and a reminder to please bring the wine. Alberto read the note in a glance and raised his head to scan the room. He caught site of her as she slipped out the door into the shadow of the staircase. He watched as she left drinking in her long shapely legs exposed by the unbelievably short skirt she was wearing. He broke into a broad grin; this lady was maybe more that he had estimated. He showed Toria the note and when their eyes met he saw that she was game if he was. They held hands as they made their way through the crowd to make certain that they would not be separated. They didn’t want their hostess to have to wait to long. They knew their spell would not last all night and they wanted to be certain that she didn’t have time to cool off. They need not have worried, for the mysterious Anna had a fire burning inside that would not be satiated tonight, or for that matter for some time to come.

Anna hurried home, she had preparations to make. As she let herself into the flat overlooking the River and the Eiffel Tour in the distance, her mind was racing. Was this really happening to her? How could these two strangers have touched her so deeply, moving her to passions long forgotten? Still, she was not certain of what was to come. What if it was all in her mind? She had know one thing, there was no way that she could greet them at her table. Her whole body had been shaking and she was soaked in sweat.

No she would need time to compose herself before she would attempt to even speak. She quickly showered cleaning herself from head to toe, she even douched. Strange, she wondered while she dressed, why had she thought to do that? Anna looked at herself naked in the mirror. She decided to pull out the stops. First shimmering stocking with lace tops, held delicately in place by satin laces. She reached for panties and then thought better of it. She didn’t want the lines to show. She had decided to wear her emerald green silk mini that clung snugly t her hips, with thin golden threads covering her shoulders. Her feet she slid into the most delicate gold sandals with 4” spike heels.

One last look in the mirror as she sprayed the L’air du Temp across her swelling breasts and gave her hair one more shake to assure it fell carelessly around her shoulders and face. Laughing, half at her self in mockery and half out of schoolgirl nerves she raced around the room lighting candles and turning off all the lights. Just as the strains of Bocelli started to fill the room there was a knock at the door and she new the moment of truth had come.

Anna opened the door and was suddenly breathless again. This pair dressed as they were started the burning in her loins again. Alberto and Toria walked slowly into the flat and they too could not believe what greeted them. Anna was stunning, her eyes dancing like the flames of the candles, greener still as her dress reflected it’s emerald hue against them. The air was filled with a lustful tension that all three felt. Alberto knew that there must be a break in the mood or the evening would burn out before it began. “What a site!” he exclaimed as he strode to the balcony overlooking the tower and the city beyond. “Bellissimo”.

He turned back to see the two women approaching him and had to catch his breath for indeed never had he been so aroused. “And you Miss Anna, you are even lovelier than this magnificent view,” he almost purred in a sultry low tone. Anna blushed for she was not use to such compliments and while she was trying to find words to respond he came to her rescue. “We must have a toast to an evening of firsts. Our first performance in a Paris night club, and the first time that our hostess has made us chase her for a chance to say thank you.” He raised the bottle of champagne and quickly, masterfully uncorked it without spilling a drop.

“Glasses dear lady?” he asked.

“Of course she replied in a voice she barely recognized as hers, throaty and breathless with the promise of something more to come. Quickly she moved away before she was no longer able to as she realized that her eyes had been locked on Alberto’s for fart too long and Toria, she sensed, was staring at her.

Anna returned to with three glasses and when they were filled they once again raised them. This time it was Toria who said, “to and evening of firsts”. As their glasses joined so did Anna’s and Toria’s eyes and as Anna saw her lust reflected there, she hesitated for just an instant, but it was long enough for Toria and Alberto to know that Anna was willing to try many firsts this magical night. They drained their glasses in a long quenching drink and Alberto refilled them as they moved to the sofa to take a seat. As Anna sat Alberto caught a glimpse of white thigh above Anna stockings and he felt himself throb slightly. Anna did not notice for she was too busy noticing the same bare flesh exposed on Toria and felt a flame fan inside that caused her to become slightly moist between her legs.

For the next half hour they talked about the night. Anna raved about the dance trying to find the words to describe the emotion she had sensed in the audience and when she couldn’t put her finger on it Alberto volunteer one, “lust," he asked. It stopped her catching her completely off guard, blushing yet turning to look him directly in the eyes she agreed, “Yes lust.”

They let the moment float for a brief instant and then if by cue Toria changed the subject to learn how Anna had created the club. Anna explained that the building, the whole street actually had been left to her by an uncle. She had for years dreamed of a place where she could go and not fear the pressing crowds that followed the jet set everywhere. She had grown up fascinated by these celebrities and had always felt sorry that they had nowhere to enjoy themselves without being on stage. She had always felt that they need a place to play and party and dance without being on display. So she had built “Flamenco.”

“Why Flamenco?” Alberto asked.

“Because I love the Latin dances," Anna replied.

“Do you dance the Flamenco, Anna?” Toria asked.

Shaking her head Anna said “no, but I have been know to butcher the Tango," she laughed. Alberto waited until her laughter had died tease her, “with me you would not, with me you would make the gods weep.” Anna turned to look at him smiling in mirth, ready to give some glib reply but when she turned she found Alberto standing with his hand outstretched, waiting for her to take it. At first Anna laughed, but neither Toria no Alberto joined her. Raising her eyes to his she saw that it would be useless to object. So she took his hand and instantly felt the electricity course through her body as she rose and he drew her into him for the dance.