It was Saturday evening when I decided to visit a local theater, to have a glimpse of a woman who was being admired by every second person around me. “She takes away your pride, forcing your senses to abandon you, making you wander wildly into the streets of her body curves where you get nothing but enjoy every moment filled with pain of being at an arm’s length”, would say her addicts. I had to test my nerves, prove those devotees wrong, walk out of the theater arrogantly keeping my heart and mind in place, not falling for that colossal beauty.
She appeared naked, behind a fine white curtain that was somewhat successful in hiding her to a certain degree, arousing 1000 devotee’s impatiently, converting their inner desires into moans of appreciation, pain and pleasures and I stood there among them, touching a new limit of lust, surrendered to that perfect dancer, perfect woman, perfect creature. I have to see her behind that curtain, where nothing stands between me and her perfectly curved body, the curves that were blurred by the curtain, thought I.
I paid heavily to her manager and entered the room with dim red light. The walls were decorated with her pictures of dancing, half burnt cigarettes in ash tray, an aroma that was better than all the perfumes and a couple of broken beads here and there on the floor. These walls must have witnessed her body without any cloth and this sofa must have touched her hips softly, I thought while scrolling my fingers across the sofa purposely.
She appeared after 5 minutes, 5 minutes that had seized all my senses, making me knee down to this creature that was admired by thousands, dreamt of by thousands, fantasized by thousands yet remained unexplored, remained untouched, remained divine like forever.
She was wearing nothing, I think. I could dare not to blink for next 10 minutes, looking straight on to her face. My eyes made vain request to bow down to her, see her edges, inhale her scent, reaching down to her feet all the way from her shoulders through the body. I couldn’t. “What are you”, I asked instead of “Who are you”. “I am nothing different than a common woman”, she said looking into my eyes that were kissing her face, failing to look down at her body. “What makes me special is your desire, your desire to touch an untouchable, your desire to conquer the beauty, your desire to own something eternal, something being acknowledged by thousands, being fantasized by thousands, being joy for thousands, being pain for thousands’, she said holding my hand.
“Once you explore my edges, once you touch me body, once you have done what you fantasized, I’ll no longer be a special lady. I’ll be walking down the street among thousands of other women, women who are praised by none, stalked by none, dreamt of by none”, she continued, pushing me back on the sofa, placing her fleshy hips over my trembling thighs, kissing my neck.
“I want not to put an end to my imagination. I can’t bring you down from the rank I have already placed you at in my mind, I want this dream to last long, real long. I want you by my side every night, accompanying me throughout the days”, said I, getting up from the sofa.
I hadn’t seen her body in 10 minutes, I couldn’t see it. I had to feel it, enjoy it, cherish it, losing myself into streets of her imaginations where I’ll no more be myself.
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