The Dance

The sultry strains of Loreena McKennitt’s “Marco Polo wove through the smoky haze and rowdy laughter of the small club. As the lights dimmed, a hush fell over the crowd. They knew who danced to that rhythmic music.

The first scarf drifted from the rafters, twisting in the circulating air as a prelude to the coming dance. Those few who kept their eyes glued to the ceiling were greeted with the sight of first one, and then the second, elegant limb wrapped around the sturdy pole on the stage. Zoya, the dark haired seductress, slithered down the metal post. Her hair, a slave to gravity, hid both her intense concentration as well as her lusty smile. She soaked up the pheromones in the crowd as a desert might the first rain of the season. It fueled her dance, and fed her ego.

Wrapping her arms around the pole, she slowly unwound her legs. With strength born of years of training, Zoya eased the pole against her shoulder as she slowly rolled upright. She gripped the post tight with her legs as the second silk scarf fluttered from above. It draped over her breasts, slithered across her sculpted abdomen, and teased between her legs before drifting to the floor. The crowd groaned as one, jealous of the scrap of silk and its light caresses.

Svetlana followed the path of the second silken scarf, a third clenched between her delicate teeth. Like her sister, she descended upside-down, using her powerful legs to support her. Only she slid on her back, facing the crowd wearing nothing but a metallic silver G-string with bell-lined scarves looped through the band to drape across her otherwise bare breasts. Their roar of approval hit the twins like a wave, hiding their hiss of pleasure.

As the drums continued their seductive beat, she mimicked her sister’s earlier roll down the post. Stretching her legs into a wide split, Svetlana placed the pole against her shoulder, tightened her abdominals, and smoothly rolled. At the end of the roll, she wrapped her legs around her twin’s waist, generating another round of catcalls and shouts of approval. She kept going, bending backwards until her palms touched the floor.

With Svetlana pinning her to the post, Zoya plucked first one, then another of the scarves from her sister’s belt. She drew them along her sister’s bowed body, between her legs, and then tossed them into the salivating crowd. Svetlana blew a kiss to the man who successfully held on to his prize. When the last scarf disappeared into the audience, Svetlana completed the walkover. There was a ripple of frustration that the scarf still dangling from her teeth again hid her perfect breasts from their view. Zoya reached the floor and danced around her sister who tugged at the strings holding her bikini top in place. As the pair twisted and bent to the music, they shared the remaining scarf – sometimes hiding their bodies with it or each other, other times using it to accentuate their voluptuous curves.

The sultry song faded into silence, and they ended their dance with the silk binding their hands together. Their breasts heaved from exertion and excitement as they soaked up the crowd’s approval. The twin’s eyes scanned the crowd, meeting the lustful gazes of both men and women, and they shivered in anticipation. Tonight, they would entertain in the private rooms with more than just a dance.

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