Pole Dance Read Free Page A

unattractively, pointing his general direction.
“Sorry”, Jake replied. “Let me know when, yeah?”
Whether it was the apology, his casual ‘yeah’ or the softness of his deep voice, I’ll never know; but I gained strength in Jake’s response. His calm tone rode along my panicked nerve endings and seem to fortify my resolve.
I managed to get myself up onto the little stage and stepped into the area behind the pole that was steeped in darkness. I grabbed the pole and realized it was a spin pole which should, if my research was correct, make it easier for me to do spins around it.
My knees were still shaking and my stomach muscles were quivering as I heard Jake banging around in the area in front of the pole. I shielded my eyes to see what all the noise was about only to discover he was dragging a chair over to sit about 8 feet from stage center. He obviously wanted to capture the full experience of my yet to be discovered pole-dancing expertise.
I waited for him to settle and then breathily said, "Okay, now" as I took what I hoped was a dramatic pose there in the shadows. Jake pointed his remote over his shoulder and then made himself comfortable in his chair by extending his long worn jean clad legs and crossing his feet at his ankles, his clasped hands resting comfortably on his well-formed chest.
With the notes that began one of my most treasured songs, I pointed my right foot toward the pole using my outstretched hands in motions moving to capture the surrounding light and bring it towards me as I slowly undulated, hip-rotating into the light and to touch the pole. As the initial piano kicked in, I began to pretend the pole was the man of my dreams, the one I longed and yearned for, the one I would, without question, give myself to totally. The song continued as I dipped, stepped and swayed around it teasingly lost the sweet sounds of the music.
In my fantasy, I grew bolder and began caressing the shiny length of brass, lightly stroking one hand and then the other up and down its length in assurance that 'he' was the one I wanted as my hips gyrated invitingly . I coyly turned my back to the pole as I unthinkingly closed my eyes and leaned against it. Slowly reaching up one arm up over my head, I pressed my back against 'his' shiny cold exterior, slightly swaying to move my hair away and expose my neck and shoulder as if to give access to 'his' touch. Provocatively, I bent from my hips, my hands sliding down my thighs yet keeping my knees locked as I slowly rubbed my ass against 'his' firmness moving from side to side. Wiggling without thinking, I felt the globes of each cheek rub against the hard pole, catching a bit as it bunched the denim of my skirt between the cheeks of my ass. As the notes swelled, I twirled, pranced and shimmied, hair flipping and spinning around me. But I never removed a hand from pole as I rotated around using both my hands and thighs to grip it as I rubbed, dragged and touched my quivering pink pieces to its shiny surface. In my fantasy, my moves were designed to entice and invite a response from this inanimate object as I found myself caught up in my hallucination of seduction.
The chorus found me hooking a leg around my stalwart "lover" to spin in a deliciously slow circle allowing my head to fall back, my hair to hang to my waist and present the arch of my neck as I slowly rotated, feet lifted, using only my hands and thighs lowering myself down the pole. I was lost in the power of the song's hypnotic, seductive tones and in my own imagination. There was a bright blast of light against my eyes and I slowly open them but saw nothing but my own visage in the mirrors. Squatting, I dropped my ass to my heels and daringly opened my knees to straddle the cold brass but still aware enough of my audience of one to point my crotch away from his direct gaze but still be reflected in the mirrors surrounding the pole.
Standing straight, I again brushed my pink parts against the pole teasingly--a