Fire on the Water

[BlackAkuma]

On the surface, Asp maintained her cool demeanor, not wanting to ruin the subtle heat between the two of them with a giddy outburst. But underneath? She was roaring.

She had the ache of a performer who had gone too long without performing. As much as she loved wrestling and as close as it came combining combat with art, it was still a far cry from what she had made her living on beforehand, when she went from town to town to town with new faces every night. She had missed the practices, the choreography, the mesmerized eyes, the applause. Call it vanity, but it was real, all the same.

The chance to perform again, even for a single person, certainly appealed. Especially for a person like Beatrice - bright, beautiful, and skilled in her own right.

So generous with the compliments, too. ”Such flattery.” She playfully lashed out with her braid, whipping it her way. ”But by all means, don’t stop.”

Asp did a few breathing exercises - quick intakes, in and out and in and out - and finished her stretching as she prepared her body for what was to come, making sure all the muscles were ready to work in a way they had so little cause to, these days. She would’ve liked more time, but she didn’t want to spend minutes on the floor, pulling her limbs into various positions as she limbered up. Though, somehow, she doubted Beatrice would complain.

Soon enough, Beatrice found the

[media]]

she was looking, and by Asp’s opinion, she’d picked a good one. While she wasn’t familiar with the tune, she had come across enough music to know when there was something with genuine effort and when someone was whipped on a computer in less than ten minutes. The ululating vocals, the earthy beats, the steady drum…

Yes, this would do nicely.

Off came the shoes, kicked to the side with casual flicks of her feet. While Asp could do this with them on, she would much rather feel the floor beneath her feet, have those tactile sensations to work with. There was a reason she found the term ‘bellydancing’ so silly, though she would never correct anyone on it: It put far too much emphasis on the stomach. While that was important, this art called on the whole body. Asp intended to show Beatrice exactly what that entailed.

It started at the legs, which Beatrice seemed quite keen on before. A slow, rolling wave moving through them, her feet lightly gliding from step to step, gathering speed along with the music, until it inexorably came to her hips.

There she gained speed, picking up the pace and finding her rhythm. She moved now, her toes sliding along the floor as she shimmed from side to side, drawing closer to Beatrice by increments. Little by little, the gap was closing, but she was careful to never be too overt. Like a cautious predator, working towards her prey. Patience. Playful.

The stomach, the ‘belly’. The wave made is way higher, and here it was truly like water. She let it flow through like a living thing, as if the muscles at her midsection were a creature all by themselves, a living thing that could move on its own will. Undulating, morphing along her ribs, forcing her upper body to bend and twist along with it.

Asp bent back, back, back, pulling her body to an angle that would’ve made most women scream for mercy, if they could find the breath to scream at all, her arms raised high as the twisted above her, before she threw herself forward and spun about. Her braid sliced through the air like fiery whip, and she twisted along with it, avoiding the coil about her neck, until she came a stop

Just in front of Beatrice. Close now, resuming her dance less than a foot away. Close enough for her to touch, if she wished.

As she went on, Asp extended her leg, planted her foot, raised her heel, and presented her full leg, well within her reach. Slim, taut, hardened, brimming with muscle, she practically put it on display as she looked down on her with heavy, half-lidded eyes and the smallest hint of a pout. Daring her. Tempting her.