Dancing?
Well, maybe that would be humiliating.
I haven’t danced in forever.
It’s been years, really.
It’s been a lifetime.
Yet this is what Peter wants, so this is what I’m going to give him.
I look at him as he waits for me, eager to see me move. Yes, he looks eager: almost content. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
You can do this.
I remind myself that I chose to be here, that this is the place I want to be, and then I start to move my hips. They sway in time with the music, but I keep my feet planted firmly in place. This is it. This is my moment. I move carefully, making little figure-eights with my hips. Then I put my hands on them and open my eyes again.
He’s still watching.
Only now, he no longer looks content.
Now he looks hungry.
Peter is a wolf and I…I’m the one who needs to watch out. If I’m not careful, he’s going to eat me up alive. If I’m not careful, I might actually enjoy it.
My hands move of their own accord, gently covering my body. I touch my breasts over the dress, wishing I was wearing a bra and panties to strip out of. I run my hands down my tummy and over my thighs. Then I do it all over again. Peter watches me. For a moment, I think I might take off my dress, but Peter isn’t a sloppy dominant partner. If he wanted me to take my clothing off, he would have told me.
As it is, he said nothing about it.
He simply asked me to dance, so I dance.
I try to make my moves sultry. I summon my inner Jamie Lee Curtis and think of her legendary scene in True Lies. Her character was shy, almost virginal, yet she somehow managed to create one of the hottest scenes in all of cinematic history. If Jamie Lee can do it, I can do it.
I keep moving.
My hands move over my body slowly. I imagine that it’s Peter’s hands on me. That helps. I love to masturbate and I know exactly how I like to be touched, but having someone else playing with you is different somehow.
It’s even more intimate.
I risk a glance at Peter and I’m instantly filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. He looks pleased with me. He actually looks really, truly, fucking pleased. This makes me feel fantastic. If he’s pleased with me, then it means things are going as well as they should.
More importantly, it means he finds me attractive, and that fills my core with heat.
I keep dancing, swaying my hips, and touching my body. What will it feel like to have Peter’s hands on me? His mouth? His tongue? My body started to ache with need as I dance and I can feel myself growing slick and wet with arousal as I move.
Fuck.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
This was supposed to turn him on, dammit.
Not me.
Never me.
I pride myself on having complete control of my thoughts and emotions, but right now, I feel so wildly out of control that I’m not really sure what to do. So I just focus on pleasing Peter. I focus on moving. I focus on the dance and hope I can tamp down my own excitement at doing this for him.
I’m not as embarrassed as I should be.