Before you stands a beauty to match the heat of her desert home. Her dusky skin is caressed by the midnight tendrils that fall to the inward curve of her waist. Her eyes, black as her hair, flash with fire, promising yet forbidding. Her soft mouth, whether smiling or sneering, enchants with its lush fullness. Her posture draws up her 5' 8" frame, showing her figure, curves and tautness combining in perfection. She moves in utter sensuousness, supple, graceful, provocative. That, when she but walks.
But you shall see her dance the ages-old belly dance, and that is to see heat incarnated in woman's form. The music begins with a few measures slow and stately, as if she yet needs to warm up. Her every step, her every glide, her every gesture is promise and challenge. Soon the music accelerates, becoming fast, with a hard-pounding beat. She spins, dizzyingly fast, her hips gyrating to the music.
In a time, the beat slows, and her moves become languid, a ripple of her taut belly as it rests between full, luscious hips, a hip-shimmy to set her coin-belt jingling. Then, she drifts to her knees, and bends so far back her head just brushes the floor behind her as her belly flutters, her breath coming hot and fast. She half-rises from her back bend, then lowers again.
Again and again she half-rises then descends, a show of control over her body she makes look easy, for all it is beyond most to do. She rolls her abs slowly and deeply, astonishing that such a small waist can further compress and to such a degree. The look on her face you tells you how utterly she has abandoned herself to the music, to the driving beat that seems to come not from the drums, but from her hot, taut, supple body. Now you realize the strength and control she has. Now you are caught forever in her enchantment. For you will never forget the vision of her sweat-dappled body arching and twisting as her chest heaves for breath.
A just-audible sound from the back of her throat, as the music quickens. She straightens, still on her knees, and gives a shoulder-shimmy that makes you wonder if her top can stand the strain of the move, combining as it does with her panting breath. So smoothly you scarce realize the strength involved, she glides to her feet.
The beat picks up, she twirls faster and faster, her chest heaving to her deep gasps. With no warning, BOOM speaks the drum.
She drops to her knees.
BOOM again the smashing throb of the drum. She bends forward, her forehead touching her knees. She pants for breath, her sweat gluing her filmy garb to her skin. A moment, hanging suspended outside of time, as she holds this posture of submission.
BOOM a third and final pulse of the drum. She rocks back on her heels, lightning swift. She holds her arms out from her side, slightly bent. Head up, defiance is her posture, blazing fire in her eyes, full lips parted as she pants and formed in a smile superior, dominating, triumphant, and a little cruel.
The look in her eyes tells you she will always triumph, in all she does, for all her life. And that you will submit to her desert-born heat.
But you shall see her dance the ages-old belly dance, and that is to see heat incarnated in woman's form. The music begins with a few measures slow and stately, as if she yet needs to warm up. Her every step, her every glide, her every gesture is promise and challenge. Soon the music accelerates, becoming fast, with a hard-pounding beat. She spins, dizzyingly fast, her hips gyrating to the music.
In a time, the beat slows, and her moves become languid, a ripple of her taut belly as it rests between full, luscious hips, a hip-shimmy to set her coin-belt jingling. Then, she drifts to her knees, and bends so far back her head just brushes the floor behind her as her belly flutters, her breath coming hot and fast. She half-rises from her back bend, then lowers again.
Again and again she half-rises then descends, a show of control over her body she makes look easy, for all it is beyond most to do. She rolls her abs slowly and deeply, astonishing that such a small waist can further compress and to such a degree. The look on her face you tells you how utterly she has abandoned herself to the music, to the driving beat that seems to come not from the drums, but from her hot, taut, supple body. Now you realize the strength and control she has. Now you are caught forever in her enchantment. For you will never forget the vision of her sweat-dappled body arching and twisting as her chest heaves for breath.
A just-audible sound from the back of her throat, as the music quickens. She straightens, still on her knees, and gives a shoulder-shimmy that makes you wonder if her top can stand the strain of the move, combining as it does with her panting breath. So smoothly you scarce realize the strength involved, she glides to her feet.
The beat picks up, she twirls faster and faster, her chest heaving to her deep gasps. With no warning, BOOM speaks the drum.
She drops to her knees.
BOOM again the smashing throb of the drum. She bends forward, her forehead touching her knees. She pants for breath, her sweat gluing her filmy garb to her skin. A moment, hanging suspended outside of time, as she holds this posture of submission.
BOOM a third and final pulse of the drum. She rocks back on her heels, lightning swift. She holds her arms out from her side, slightly bent. Head up, defiance is her posture, blazing fire in her eyes, full lips parted as she pants and formed in a smile superior, dominating, triumphant, and a little cruel.
The look in her eyes tells you she will always triumph, in all she does, for all her life. And that you will submit to her desert-born heat.