The Pousse Cafe ~ Scene 2
Maharet returned to her dressing room with skin that tingled from the audience members’ lust for her. They desired her and that desire was opium coursing through her veins, which caused her heart to beat with a thirst. She bit her lip; frustrated Frankie was not waiting for her. To bide her time she sat in front of the mirror, naked but for the sparkly coverings on her breasts. Slowly and gently she removed the pasties from her nipples, which were sensitive to touch, She shivered. She breathed deeply and shook her head to clear it from the buzz that burned between her legs.
“Concentrate girl,” Maharet muttered and busied herself with the removal of her performance make-up. This was her, but not her. A side she loved but willingly removed for her Frankie. Once all trace was gone from her skin, she slowly reapplied fresh make-up and became the Maharet her lover adored. “A Renoir painting in a room full of whores,” Frankie would say.
Completed, Maharet stood and placed a turquoise silk robe around her naked body. The smooth sensation of the silk upon her skin heightened her want of Frankie’s hands and tongue upon her. She may allow men to look upon her lithe body but only one person could touch it and please it. And if that person didn’t arrive soon Maharet would have to do it herself. She walked around her dressing room to light a few candles, switched the mirror lamps off and poured herself a glass of red wine. She sighed when she tasted her first sip.
Softly, Frank Sinatra’s crooning voice slid over Maharet and she began a private dance. Her hands glided over the silk that covered her body and she felt her womanly curves. Hips swayed, shoulders rocked. With her eyes shut she didn’t notice Frankie had entered the dressing room and was a silent witness to the sensual self-provocation of Maharet. He quietly moved behind Maharet and slid his strong hands around her waist to mingle with his lover’s.
“Now this is the dance I like from you,” Frankie whispered deeply in Maharet’s ear.
Maharet smiled and replied, “Oh really? And why is that?”
“Because it’s all mine.” He growled and lowered his mouth to Maharet’s neck as she leaned her body back into his and rocked her hips. She could feel the firmness in Frankie’s pants.
Frankie’s hands were firm on Maharet’s body as they moved down the length of her torso to her thighs. Their bodies rocked together in meld of desire, passion and love. One of Frankie’s hands found Maharet’s breasts and grabbed it firmly, drawing its owner further backwards as he continued to to kiss, suck and bite his woman’s neck. His fingers inched their way to the sash that held Maharet’s robe in place, gently he pulled the silky tie undone, allowing the robe to fall open and Maharet’s body to be exposed. They both could see their reflection in the dressing room mirror.
Frankie, in his dark pinstripe suit, cut a striking masculine figure. His hair slicked back in typical style of the sophisticated man. Maharet, who stood leaning into her lover as she was disrobed, was a woman in every way. They smiled at their reflections.
Maharet turned to face Frankie, wrapped her arms around her lover’s neck and passionately kissed him. Frankie’s hands gripped her hips firmly and pulled her in. Their kiss turned hard and wanting. Fire breathed between them and it burned brightly. Frankie’s mouth once again found Maharet’s neck, which caused a moan to escape his lover’s lips. Hands gripped. Warm tongues danced. Hips rocked.
Maharet’s fingers attempted to remove Frankie’s clothing but were grasped in hands bigger and stronger than her own. “Only the jacket my love,” Frankie stated and took his jacket off himself. He placed a hand in Maharet’s hair and pulled her in, passionately, forcefully kissed her. Frankie pushed her back onto the dresser then ran his hand over Maharet’s naked body until it met her waiting pussy. He fondled her clit. Maharet’s breath laboured. Fingers entered her. She cried out. Lips met. Furious heat ignited. Fingers left. Fingers entered. Teeth were on Maharet’s neck whilst Frankie’s hand was still mingled in her hair and held her head in place.
Fingers left. Fingers entered. Maharet dug her nails into Frankie’s back. “Baby,” she breathed.
Fingers left. Fingers entered. “Baby, please.”
Fingers left. Fingers entered. Maharet moaned.
“Baby, fuck me,” Maharet begged.
Everything stopped.
Frankie pulled away. He stood there smiling at Maharet, unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It shone in the candlelight. Hard and wanting. She moaned. Frankie’s hand returned to tangle in Maharet’s dark hair. Maharet felt the tip of the shaft at her wet lips, she shivered, she anticipated. She tried to push herself down its length but Frankie held her firm, teased her. Grasped her breast firmly in one hand and forced his way into his lovers eager body. Maharet cried out with pleasure. Her nails dug into Frankie’s neck.
The fire that burned through Maharet from her earlier performance was being released with vigour. Frankie left her and entered her over and over. Frankie slammed into his lover. He filled her up with passion, desire, trust, with what made Frankie who he was.
Hips rocked. The edge of the dresser bit into Maharet’s arse as she was pushed hard into it. A cry escaped lips. Slammed into her. Left her. Into her. Left her. She cried out again. Bit her lip. Frankie increased his intensity of force. They moved together. Pleasure built. They trusted. They fucked. Hand still in Maharet’s hair, Frankie pulled her head towards him and entrapped Maharet’s lips with his own. His rhythm quickened. Maharet’s pleasure heightened. She moaned. Hips rocked together. Left her. Entered her. Left. Entered. Pleasure released. Maharet cried out. Her night’s intensity erupted into this. This one moment, with Frankie; she let go. Only with Frankie.
Maharet shivered with aftershocks. Frankie held her. They kissed tenderly.
And they loved.
