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The Striptease

It's taken me a long time to get up my nerve to actually do this ... strip, that is. Even though it will be a private performance. I mean, what if I'm no good? What if I turn the gentleman off, instead of on, as I intend? Wait a minute, I better remember who I'm talking about here. Unless I stick him in a tub of ice water, I can't turn the man off.

It's impossible. Besides, he keeps telling me I move, not like a goddess, the way a normal man would, but like a stripper. So I'll give it a try ... but what image do I want to project? That's easy ... sexy, sensual ... geez, but what music?

"I got a Black Magic Woman, got me so blind I can't see ..."

It's got to be slow, but not too slow ... something I can really dance to. Let me go through my music ... "Never Been to Spain?" Well, that's slow enough and I can move to it without bouncing like a basketball. Oooh here's one ... "Witchy Woman" by the Eagles. "Raven hair and ruby lips ..." close, but no cigar. Good theme, tho. Let's see what else do I have that's "witchy" ... "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered..." I don't think so. Oh, oh here it is ... "Black Magic Woman" by Santana. Mmmm, I can do this one.

"... That she's a Black Magic Woman. She's tryin' to make a devil out of me."

Let me set the stage a little ... I'm 25 years old, 5 feet tall and about 105 lbs ... small waist, slender hips, large bust ... My hair is a dark reddish brown with one white streak over my left eye. Of course, my hair is waist length, so that white streak is about 2 and a half feet long. I choose my outfit for the night ? let me start from the outside. A black floor length cape with a hood. A two piece skirt and blouse set, also black, with buttons from neckline/ waistband to hem. The skirt is very full, so when I twirl, it stands out from my legs, revealing what I'm wearing, or not wearing, under it. Fingerless, elbow length black lace gloves. Black lace stockings that match the gloves. Three inch high black spike-heeled pumps. A black garter belt with satin ribbon trim. A black satin "corselette", the saleswoman called it, that laces from the bottom of my black lace bra to my waist. And black lace string bikini panties. I've shaved carefully so there will be no unsightly hair ... anywhere. I do look good, if I must say so myself.

"Don't turn your back on me, baby. Don't turn your back on me, baby."

It takes days to figure out how to style my hair. I know I want to put it up, and then take it down sometime during the dance. But my hair is very thick. And I don't want to be pulling pins from it during the entire performance. I finally get it. Two hair pins would hold it up. Remove them and shake my head ... down goes the hair. And I practice with it up so I know it will work. What about my face ... that class in theater makeup from college will help. Emphasize my best features ? eyes darkened, lips reddened and moist, cheekbones hollowed ? and make myself look as exotic as my ancestors.

"Yes, don't turn your back on me, baby. Stop messin' round with your tricks."

I issue the invitation. "My place. Tomorrow night ? 8:30. Use your key. Sit. And wait." I've dressed the house, too. The lamps are draped. Even the doorway is draped. The couch is gone, as is much of the furniture from the room, and replaced by a large overstuffed chair. I've turned off all the lights except those few draped lamps. And the candles ... many, many candles. He's on time. I go back behind the dark, draped doorway where he cannot see me. He comes in, looks around and smiles. I can see he's eagerly anticipating whatever I have planned. He sits in the only chair in the room, across from the doorway from which I watch. It's time. I start the music.

" Don't turn your back on me, baby. You just might pick up my magic sticks."

I let the sounds of the keyboard play and step into the room with the first notes from the guitar. My hood is pulled up as I stalk to the middle of the room. When I reach it, I spin, bringing my arms and the cape up like wings as I unfasten it. Putting on my most sultry look, I use the cape as a matador would, spinning it around my shoulders, in the air, until it lands on the back of the chair, behind him, having been propelled there by my hands. I trail my demi-gloved fingers down the side of his face in a beckoning gesture, but when he tries to follow, I push him back in the chair. I turn away from him and stalk back to the middle of the floor, throwing an evil grin back over my shoulder at him. I reach my destination and bend from the waist with one leg to the side, presenting him with a nice view of my backside pressed tightly against the material of my skirt, as I begin to work on the buttons.

"Got your spell on me, baby. You got your spell on me, baby."

As the buttons come undone, more and more leg is exposed until, on a certain note of the guitar, I sweep the skirt around in a circle and it lands in his lap. I face him and sway to the music, eyes closed, as I begin on my blouse ... this time from the top. As the buttons are opened below the level of my breasts, I hug myself, pressing my breasts together until they seem to overflow the bra. His eyes are glued to my chest, waiting for the flood, but it never happens. The blouse comes off and lands on his knee. I move close to him, facing him and bend over. I pull the pins from my hair and stand, throwing my head back as I do. My hair comes free and spills to my waist.

"You got your spell on me, baby, turning my heart into stone.*"

He reaches for me, but I spin away, the ends of my hair striking him as I move. I move close to him again, close enough that he can smell my perfume ? "Obsession," the perfume he gave to me because he said that's what I'd become ? mixed with the slightly musky aroma of sweat from the dance. Still moving to the pulsating music, I begin on the laces of the corselette, giving a small, self-satisfied smile as his eyes follow my fingers. The corsellete comes off and I drop it where I stand. My tongue snakes out to moisten my lips as my hands caress the bare skin I've uncovered.

"I need you so bad ..."

I reach up and cover each breast with the palm of a hand, seemingly weighing them in my hands. My hands glide to the tip and gently tweak each nipple as I shiver. I slide my hands down my bare midriff until they reach first the garter belt, then the band of my panties. I slide my panties down my hips and step out of them. I hear his sharp intake of breath when he sees I'm bare, totally denuded of hair, which affords him a better view of all my charms. I straddle his knees, still swaying to the music, reach behind me to unfasten my bra, and let it fall into his lap. My breasts are at his eye level, I can see the hunger in his eyes and feel it in his warm, moist breath as it flows over my skin ?

hunger for me. I back away from him, slowly and stand still as his eyes travel over my body, a body clad only in stockings, garter belt, heels, and gloves. I turn away and walk toward the doorway. The music reaches its climax as I reach the door. I stop, place a hand on the doorway and look back over my shoulder. He's still sitting, still watching. I smile and angle my head toward the bedroom. Then I slip through the doorway.

"Magic Woman I can't leave you alone."