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.

[Liesmith]

Head bent over her phone, Tris’ attention was chiefly devoted to hunting down the track she’d decided on. She’d danced to it herself once or twice and she was curious to see what Aspasia and her style of dance would make of it.

That didn’t mean she was blind to the gorgeous woman warming up only a few feet away. Breathing, stretching… And she did notice but chiefly in a practical sense; after spending so much time in changing rooms with naked or nearly-naked women, the basic physicality of a dancer getting herself ready lost its eroticism.

Not that she’d ever object and she certainly appreciated the opportunity to see the effect the differing positions had on the other redhead’s mesmerising body.

But she was much more interested in the show to come.

The wait was short though. Aspasia readied herself. Tris cued up the music, absently nodding her head to the backing beat as she settled herself comfortably.

And the performance more than measured up to her expectations. It was not any part in particular that Tris found herself focused on. It was the display of muscle control that drew her in.

Her control of her own body was impressive, she knew. She was no lightweight but she could support her weight upside down with just the grip of her adductors or twist herself into positions that seemed to defy anatomy.

Aspasia on the other hand was doing things Tris hadn’t even imagined. While slinking closer, oh, she hadn’t failed to spot that. But that was impressive in itself. Aspasia was stalking her almost, two steps closer then a step back so as to deceive the eye.

Tris liked it. She was pinching that trick for later (not the only one either).

And suddenly Aspasia was very close. Within reach, even, towering over her like a goddess as she continued her dance. Hips writhing, twisting. A leg came up, offered to her like a boon to a worshipper.

Leaning back on her braced arms, Tris let her hooded gaze rake slowly upwards, taking in first every inch of the proffered leg before playing over the rippling plane of Aspasia’s abdomen and on up until her pale blue gaze met warm amber.

Playfully, she cocked her head to the side, her full lips quirking in a challenging smirk. Clearly appreciating the display the other woman was putting on but equally showing no signs of going to touch.

Because this play? It was cute, really cute. But Tris knew this script by heart and Aspasia was going to have to do a little better if she wanted to tempt this temptress.

Even if that was a very attractive leg.

[BlackAkuma]

Asp had never done exotic dancing herself, not in the way that Beatrice had, but she wasn’t unfamiliar with the style, having studied - yes, studied - it more than a few times, both for her amusement and education. She found more in common with belly dancing than many would expect, aside from both being dances meant to entice and allure the watcher. Chiefly, both were like jazz - spontaneous, reactionary. Moves and moments would be practiced, but the best of both styles worked with their audience, read them to fit the moment, and went where the eyes took them.

Beatrice’s beautiful, ocean-blue eyes went to some of the most wonderful places, too.

There were the more analytical looks. Asp recognized straight away, as she had given them to the woman herself a moment ago, and she was happy to see them returned. Beatrice wasn’t simply enjoying the show, but taking in the mechanics of it, breaking down the technique, storing it for future use. She knew when someone was looking at her and when someone was watching.

But there was hunge there, too. Desire. As Asp brought her leg forward - lean, taut, pleasing - she baited the woman, curious to see what she could tease out of her.

Oh, the fish was close. Consider the hook. Closer and closer. Thinking of it, but…no. It wasn’t mere hesitation. Beatrice was more than bold enough to take what she wanted. She simply chose not to.

”Hmhm.” Asp hummed a laugh as she slid the leg away, making sure to give Beatrice the full view as it passed. You had your chance, it said. She turned away from the woman, spun about and whipped her neck about, as she prepared to bring things up a level.

Her braid, long and flaming, was a tool she loved to integrate into her style, and she put it to work. More spin came into play, her body a whirlwind of movement, and the fiery serpent flew around her like a living thing. Wide arcs, curling like the coils of a whip. Once or twice it would even lash out at Beatrice, as if it sought to sink its fangs into her succulent flesh, but Asp would pull it back every single time. It was hers and hers alone to command.

A final twirl brought her to her knees, with the braids slithering around outstretched arm, hugging it tightly as the limb flowed within its grip. Asp’s looked over her shoulder, keeping a single lazy eye on the woman, watching her through dreamy eyes.

Truly watching.