Time Dancer

Part II, The next evening:,/B>

I lay on my bed in the hotel room pondering the strange day I had experienced. The entire day was spent in an aura of unreality, feeling one half step out of time with the rest of the world. Everything was familiar, but somehow different. Unexpected anomalies jarred my senses. A mistaken telephone number, just one digit off from the number I was absolutely certain I knew; a street sign I never remembered seeing, having driven that intersection a hundred times or more over the years; a flag a different color than it was remembered yesterday; different stores with different names in unexpected locations; people greeting me by name, as an old acquaintance, although complete strangers to me. The details added up. Déjà vu chased jamais vu in a dizzying vortex. Was this the onset of psychosis or dementia? I wondered.

Suddenly consciousness divided. And, while I didn't dissociate from the reality of the room around me and the sounds of the world filtering through the window, with a hallucinatory vividness I saw

a darkened alley . . .

I lead her by the hand down the alley, stop suddenly and spin her back to the wall, my fingers reaching for the hem of her skirt. There is no resistance other than a feeble "Security . . . what about . . ." She gasps as I drop to my knee in front of her, lifting her skirt to her waist and burying my face between her thighs inhaling deeply. An involuntary little cry escapes her lips as my tongue laps at the wetness soaking through the black lace panties she is wearing. My hands slide between her thighs to cup her ass, spreading her open against my mouth as I suck the juice from her hot, wet core, my lips and teeth teasing her clit through the lace. She is eager. I've barely touched her and she's already so close to the edge. Her hands pull me to her as her hips begin a rhythm of their own. The breathy sounds escaping my mouth sound like "YES! PLEASE! YES!" Her free hand begins clawing the wall for support as she begins to tremble violently. My hands rip the soaked fabric aside. With my tongue now directly attacking her clit it's all she can do to remain upright. Her juices run down her legs and my face. When I slide two fingers into to her clenching cunt it propels her over the top and her body is wracked with spasms, her back arching away from the wall and then . . . . ."

My heart was pounding as I willed this unexpected vision to continue, the sense of déjà vu powerful, but the knock at the door chased it away and consciousness returned undivided to the room.

The knocking was at first timid. I was half paralyzed by the erotic charge of the vision and was slow to respond. The knock became more demanding and I stumbled to the door to open it. There stood a stranger, a woman. Average build, thick short brown hair, high cheekbones, deep brown eyes that looked at me as a knowing smile contoured her full lips.

"Do I know you?" A strong and urgent frisson of déjà vu hinted at an answer and evaporated as quickly as it came. She was a complete stranger.

"I can come in." It was a statement not a question. Was the stress on the word 'I' or 'can'? Before I could process the multiple levels of meaning possibly contained in those four words, and which was the correct interpretation, she pushed past me with a peremptory "close the door please."

I stood in astonishment by the door as it clicked shut

"Damn, it's not working" she mumbled to herself.

"I beg your pardon."

"You have something of mine. I need to get it back, the ripples are spreading and there's going to be a serious bifurcation or entanglement of the world-lines here if we don't put this right." I could make no sense of the words.

"Has your day been in any way unusual today, you MUST have felt it?" Her voice pleaded. I had to agree that it was. I'd been trying to make sense of it for the last hour.

"Well there you are. Damn it why isn't this working? She was almost in tears. She saw the iPod silent in its cradle. "That has to be it" she said hopefully. "Would you switch it on please."

"Be my guest."

"No," she said slowly and deliberately "I think this is ONLY going to work if YOU start it." Her conviction willed me to the table and I press play.

The 'Alice falling down the rabbit hole' feeling, being transported to who knows where or when was experience as familiar and expected and memories of that other time/place surged back into vivid memory.

"You" I gasped.

"Yes, me."

"But I thought I dreamt you."

"It's more complicated than that."

I stepped forward to embrace her but she stopped me. "No first things first. Where is the earring?" The forgotten earring had been in my case with me all day. "You took it out of the room didn't you?" I nodded, speechless.

"Well that explains it. The mere fact of taking that tiny amount of mass out of here disturbed our world lines. There were ripples. You felt them, I felt them. There may be serious consequence if I don't get the earring back. I'm certain that we are not supposed to be on the same world-line. Somehow our separate time-lines got tangled." Silently I rummaged through the case, found the ring and dropped it into her outstretched hand. The tension was instantly gone from her shoulder. "It is self-correcting you know, with this" indicating the earring " back on the right track the ripples should cease."

She paused and then stepped close into my arms, looking up to place a gentle kiss on my lips. "We still have time. We're in no danger here. This is no where and everywhere, never and eternal. The door is still open, or I wouldn't have been able to coming back in. I'm sure that there will be ample warning if the way out is about to close for ever."

She snuggled into my arms, looking slyly up at me, and said in a professorial tone of voice "one hypothesis is that such unusual space-time anomalies can be maintained by psychic energies." Her tone returned to normal. "We surely generated enough sexual psychic energy last night.' Her voice dropped to a whisper of desire. "Let's keep this place in existence a little while longer. "

A giggle "besides, I brought some toys. I thought we might play, that is if you're interested?" She opened her purse to show me her toys. Of course I was ready to play!

She undressed leisurely and provocatively, pantomiming a stripper. She hummed a melody to accompany the flash of a breast then the other, finally dropping her bra and baring those inviting curves. The tease: the hand groping suggestively outside then inside her panties, and thumbs then hooking into the waist to lower the sheer fabric for a glimpse of her shaven pussy lips then concealing. Her hips writhed in a pre-echo of what we both know would come. We were both

so, so

ready. But this moment was so uniquely precious; we tacitly agreed that it will not be spoiled by haste. It would be extended as long as we could maintain the dance.

Finally she stepped out from the abandoned clothes, as I watched with mounting anticipation. She settled herself on the bed and waited expectantly.

I considered the music that will accompany our next exploration of the bounds of sensual/tactile experience. A choice was made,

Nuevo Tango

it should be, a modern reinterpretation, a combination of driving candombe rhythms that echo the roots of the traditional music, and other pieces which are more languid, lyrical and contemplative. Already my mind leapt ahead to the interpretation of the instruments: my hands, mouth and lips which will play the bandoneon and violin on her flesh.

As the music started, I surveyed the toys she had brought. A black satiny piece of fabric served as a blindfold, which was quickly wrapped around her head. I tied it at the side of her head, so she should not be distracted by the discomfort of its knot. Four soft silken ropes bound her wrists and ankles securely, but with ample play for comfort. I carefully spread her limbs and the ends of the ropes were now tied to the four corners of the bed. Her trust in me was absolute. She was now spread eagled across the bed, open to me in her full beauty and femininity. I stopped admire. A final readjustment of her pillows, assurance that she was comfortable, and we were ready.

El Aire en Mis Manos,

from

Narcotango 2

, one of the slower, more lyrical, pieces began to play, and

my

play began. I would touch her, caress, lick, nibble, knead, suck, taste and fully enjoy every part of her during this coming interlude. I bent to her pleasure and mine, and began.

My lips and tongue explored a patch of skin, a hand defined the curve of another part of her body. I teased her naked pussy with an exhaled breath through pursed lips. A kiss to her neck, another delicately to her lips, drawing away as she reached to drive her tongue into my mouth and leaving her frustrated, wanting more. She knew not what to expect. My hands and mouth continued their exploration. I sucked on a nipple as one hand caressed a thigh, or the shape of her jaw. I retreated, and she didn't know where or with what I would touch her next. Her tactile awareness became more intensive, soft moans punctuated the music and she started in surprise at the chosen location for the next contact. The wordless female voice in the music became

her

voice, joining in our harmony. As we lost ourselves into the music and the choreography of touch against exquisitely sensitive bare skin; the caress of my hands and the lapping of my tongue interpreted the music, playing it out on her receptive form.

I could go on with this, but she was wet with desire and I knew she wanted more. The pace quickened as Tanghetto played,

El Boulevard

. The tempo was faster, but not yet urgent or demanding. I toyed with the idea of a circuitous route to our next destination on our journey of exploration, but no. No teasing approach this time, but slow and deliberate. I bent to her clit, exposed it fully, and gently drew my lips around it. She groaned again, shuddered and arched to meet the embrace of my tongue to her sweet spot.

The dance changed. The dance floor shrank to a mere square centimeter or so of engorged clit; the dancers, my tongue and her. Her expression of the dance was limited to the writhing of her hips, pressing against the rough embrace of my tongue. My interpretation was through other aspects of the connection, sucking and licking at the engorged flesh. We established our connection, felt the tempo, interpreted the music and our flesh became violin and bandeon. Becoming the music.

She was fully aroused, ready to be taken to the edge and beyond. We needed something more forceful and demanding, and the playlist bent to our will. In the back of my mind I was awareness of an anomaly. The tracks did not play in the order I recalled, but seem to reorder themselves to fill our immediate need.

The notes filled the air around us. The rhythm was perfect for what I had in mind, strong, insistent and demanding. I reached for one of the toys she had brought. Flesh rejoined as lips, clit and tongue connected with each other again and the phrasing of the dance.

I sucked and lapped at her hungrily, tasted the juice of her excitement and waited for the moment. It came. The dildo slid easily into her and she could stop a muffled scream of surprise as it filled her completely. In and out, in and out. The strokes picked up the rhythm with metronomic precision. Her arousal increased exponentially, and I played with the rhythm and depth.

Slow, slow, slow, slow. Deep, shallow, shallow, deep. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Long slow strokes over several measures of music, two bars or even slower over four bars of music added to the improvisation. I wished I could experience

her

experience of this, her clit massaged by my mouth at the same time as the dildo quickly brought her to the edge. I could only experience it vicariously through the quivering flesh that expressed her rousing excitement. As the crescendo built I heard her words joining the harmony "fuck me, suck me, fill me . . . . .; fuck me, suck me, fill me . . . . .; fuck me, suck me, fill me . . . . .; fuck me, suck me, fill me . . . . .."

She was soon there. I judged the moment perfectly. A beat before she is about to climax, the dildo was discarded. My throbbing cock took its place, and she screamed and arched to meet me. Her body shuddered uncontrollably as the powerful spasms of her cunt grasped my cock with amazing strength. Although I was highly aroused, there was no risk of me following her in climax. For the first, and what I expect will be the last time in my life I

really felt

a woman's climax undistracted by my own proximity to coming. I closed my eyes then, and experience every moment of her orgasm. I was motionless until the aftershocks subsided and she relaxed, then slowly withdrew.

The music changed to something more languid, and I knew I must let her rest and gather a while. My lips returned to hers, softly at first and then more urgently. The kiss lasted a lifetime it seemed, and our tongues danced to a different melody.

Tracks changed, but time stood still. In this cocoon of passion, I explored every aspect of her responses. She came to the edge again, but I let her arousal subside. Experimentation, improvisation, exploration, no stone left unturned in the combination of sensory experiences. For a time, I straddled her, my balls presented for her to suck on and enjoy her juices that soaked the pubic hair of my sac. Her mouth tried to chase my cock, but I was not ready for that yet. Blinded, she had no chance of encountering it. Who know how long it went on, all I knew is that I insisted she be fully sated. This would continue until she told me to stop.

A faster piece and I judged it time for another climax. She was close to the end. "You may have one hand free now" I tell her, "which shall it be." She indicated her choice. I carefully repositioned myself. I would feast one last time on her clit. One hand held the dildo ready and the other, prepared to caress her body, invited her free hand to join the dance at her clit. Her fingers and my tongue joined in the ministrations to her clit as the dildo began again the base rhythm to this last dance. The tension began to climb quickly.

A faster track, the candombe drums the essence of tango. This time I would be the follower not the leader. I let her fingers establish

her

pace, and followed her lead. I appreciated the novelty of

her

fingers in

my

mouth joining together with the shared purpose of drawing her to the inevitable conclusion. I was attentive to the rhythm of her fingers, and tried to match with tongue or dildo. At times the music interpretation demanded a counterpoint, a syncopation, but all pushed her onward.

Her final climax, when it came, was more languid and contemplative. Her fingers withdrew and I sensed her paroxysms this time with my lips and tongue still embracing her clit. She went to a far place I could not know.

I sat back, watched . . . and waited.

"Enough" she said finally "It's your turn now."

The roles were now quickly reversed. She knotted the blindfold over my eyes, positioned and bound my limbs to her satisfaction. I felt the bed shift as she rose. Other senses now heightened with the departure of vision, and my ears easily traced her progress across the floor. The music changed and I recognized immediately the beginning of the Bolero playlist. What a perfect choice. The songs were sorted by ranking, the five stars at the top, I knew their sequence well. As her weight settled next to me again, Andrea Bocelli started

La Tue Parole.

I couldn't help but be struck by the irony. Bocelli is blind, from birth I believe, and I was about to experience a woman as he does, almost exclusively through the sense of touch. I sank into a deep state of relaxation as she began to repay the homage I had given her body. The music was slow and melodic, quite different from what had gone before and more suited to the natural rhythm of

my

responses. She knew my needs and had made an apt choice.

I waited for what seemed like minutes for the first touch of flesh against flesh. I wondered what and where it would be. The first touches were so ghostly, I wondered if I was imagining them. Her breath on my skin, a fleeting finger tip there, the brush of a nipple across my lips, then teeth teasing a nipple of my own. I felt her weight move on the bed, but could predict what she would do next. The touch which is not yet touch amplified the sensitivity of every sensory cell in my skin, and each new sensation was accompanied by a delicious shudder of enjoyment.

The first unmistakable contact. She planted her lips at the base of my cock, licked firmly from base to tip, and then engulfed me with her lips. Sliding slowly down to take me in, her tongue lapped a countermotion. I groaned with the sudden intensity of desire, but we both knew that was just a teaser. She must of necessity withdraw, or this would be over before it has scarcely begun. Now it was

her

time to dance on

my

body.

A touch here, a stroke there, a soft kiss elsewhere, the dart of a tongue, or long slow lick that traverses from collarbone to groin. Sensation piled on sensation unpredictably, all the while faithful to the measure and phrase of the song. More improvisation, and two independent tactile stimuli clamored for attention. Her kisses explored every part of my face that was uncovered while a hand kneaded at my chest. Then two hands completed a duet, one hand finding the shape of my jaw while the other teased pubic hair.

Luna,

sang a female vocalist, telling of

los momentos felices

that she can never forget, lamenting their loss. I have felt her weight shift. Other senses filled in for the missing vision. I knew that she has raised up, the better to survey my resting form, and was gazing over me intently, committing the image to memory. The stroking of her hand along my inner thigh, tantalizingly close to THERE, felt somehow distracted and irregular. The sharp quickening of her breath, and the faint trembling that communicated through the space between us drew the image as easily as vision. Her other hand at her crotch, for a moment fingers plunging deep. I saw this in my minds eye. A moment later, I felt the full weight of her across my abdomen, her tongue explored my groin, one hand stoked my leg as far as it will reach, and the other found my lips and mouth, insisting I partake of the juice she has gathered. I sucked hungrily at her fingers, thankful for the taste of her.

A tentative probe at my anus. A lightly lubricated fingertip rimmed me asking permission to advance. I shifted slightly to accept the request. She penetrated me with but a fingertip, and as her mouth and tongue settle on the lowest part of my abdomen she begins to fuck

me

. The finger withdrew, returned with more lubricant, and withdrew again. She hesitated. I felt the touch of something else, not her, and tensed involuntarily for a moment. I forced myself to relax and experienced a new sensation as the smaller end of the curiously shaped dildo entered me. She found the depth that placed the end strategically against my prostate gland and commenced to massage it expertly.

The combination of being fucked by her together with her lips and tongue at my groin, teasing and tantalizing my throbbing cock, approaching and withdrawing, threatened to push me quickly over the edge. While one part of me wanted to totally succumb to the novel experience of being fucked and sucked, it was too alien. My thighs closed on her hands, telling her to stop. She complied immediately, but left it inserted. It remained in my awareness as the presence of part of

her

inside

me

, comforting, comfortable and no longer distracting.