Ballerina, you must have seen her
dancing in the sand
And now she’s in me, always with me,
tiny dancer in my hand
But oh how it feels so real
Lying here with no one near
and you can hear me
When I say softly, slowly
Hold me closer tiny dancer
-Elton John, Tiny Dancer
When I say softly, slowly…
Arch your back, take my hand and come dance with me, Miss.
You are going to twirl soon, just trust me.
I can hear the music now. Can you hear it? You really should come to take my hand little lady, and dance with me. Spin, little one. Just spin.
You precious thing. Let me be your choreographer and your partner Danseur.
I am going to make you Pirouette soon, in your wetness, as you spin, round and round and round, like a dirty little Ballerina as we dance our Pas de Deux.
Make no mistake though, darling.
Everyone is looking at you. They always were and I would want it no other way. You are grace; I am just holding you up.
So I say softly, slowly, but now sternly…
Take your own hand now…
And slide it right beneath your panties to feel the warmth that is your gift from God. Your heaven on earth. The wonderful feminine blessing of your most delicate parts. Your sensitive lady bits are starting to tingle, aren’t they?
You have read these ones before, and you know what is coming. Something, that if you choose to dance to, will make your pretty little parts come to life. You recognize that the tone in my voice is different, don’t you?
This one is a special one, isn’t it, tiny dancer?
So, toes up, Miss Ballerina.
And now come, and take my hand and dance with me…
A man of pure passion and the worst intentions has spotted you from across the busy daytime restaurant you frequent with your closest girlfriends.
He knows you already, and you’d know him too if you were paying attention, but you are still clueless as you sit there, waiting for the check to come in this busy lunchtime rush.
Your friends had to leave — they couldn’t wait forever, after all. For some reason, the waiter brought back their credit cards but not yours, and he said he would go to the back and get it, ten minutes ago. He knew exactly where he set it down, “so no need to worry”. You couldn’t make the girls wait forever for the never-ending bill, and since they had to get back, you waited, impatiently, sitting there in the back corner booth, trying to wave down anybody who works here.
“They have my fuckin’ card. WTF?”
You get tired of trying to wave people down.
“I know that fuckin’ hostess saw me,” you tell yourself.
Just then a notification goes off in your designer purse. Then another. Then another. And another.
“Fuck it,” you think.
You decide to entertain yourself a little while you wait, so you open your iPhone and a red circle appears with a message:
“Hi, sexy. What are you up to?”
“Hey there! I am at lunch — frustrated. Waiting for what seems like forever for my bill. BTW, your last post last night was so fucking hot. OMG.”
Meanwhile, your bill has already been paid and you are clueless to it. This is by design because a man with a shaved head sitting across the room already talked to the wait staff, and told them to not talk to you, under any circumstances, because he is your old friend and wants to play a joke on you.
They laughed once they understood it and were happy to comply once the 100 dollar tip went down.
He messages you back: “Yeah? Did you like it? It was one of my favorites too. Hope it ‘did the job’, if you know what I mean.”
“Um. Yeah. I couldn’t help but touch. I actually came twice to it.”
“Looks like it worked then. Maybe you should read it again and get wet while you sit there, looking all sexy at lunch in that dress. Maybe touch under your panties if nobody is looking.”
You kind of ignore the dress comment and look around a bit. “I am not wearing a dress. It’s technically a sundress. And, I don’t think the waiters would like me rubbing my clit here in the restaurant. ”
“Well, you clearly don’t know many waiters,” he replies.
She giggles and decides to tease him with “Besides, I am not even wearing panties. I never do in dresses.”
Then he gives her a second reason for pause, intentionally, when he says, “I thought it was a sundress. Besides, I could tell you weren’t wearing any panties when you walked in.”
Her head on a swivel now. He ducks back out of sight.
“You are fucking evil, you know that? I totally looked around like an idiot as if you were here or something. LMAO”, she hits send.
Then he changes the subject, sends her a request to read a long post for him, and for her to give him an opinion on it.
“It’s about a Ballerina,” he says.
Her head down, reading intently, focused, reading, getting wet, getting horny as fuck, wetter now, now wetter. “Oh my god” she is thinking as she gets flushed.
Just then, her credit card lands on her table.
And a blogger she knows all too well sits right down next to her and scoots in until their hips meet.
She is dumbfounded.
“So, did it make you wet?” he says with the most devilish and sinister grin she has ever seen decorates his face.
Speechless. Confused. WTF.
“Well? It is rude not to say anything.”
She says, “Um, yeah but how did you..?”
“You don’t mind if I check then, do you?” He says.
He can tell right away that she isn’t going to say Yes but she isn’t going to say No either, so his hand lifts her sundress up, out of sight of anyone, and starts playing with her clit as he kisses her.
She doesn’t fight it in the least as she reaches for his cock to find thickness she needs inside her.
Rubbing her into a frenzy, he decides to make it look like they are talking and then reads the rest of the post to her, word by word, in his deep natural tone, and she begins to cum right there in the busy restaurant.
As she does, he holds her through the body spasm as if they were hugging, then proceeds to lick his fingers, grins, and winks a crippling wink.
He stands up, tells her the lunch was on him, drops down a black metal business card that has three things on it:
A Logo. The words: ‘The Romantic Dominant’. And a phone number.
“I want a lot more of your orgasms than just that one.”