Featured Post: Tipping the Velvet – Candice Louisa Daquin

“Watch me tonight won’t you?” she said like a little girl and I nodded my head as she walked through to the staff quarters of the club and I carried on straight ahead and showed my laminated membership card.

“How are you Lana?” the club’s cashier smiled a red lipsticked smile at me and gave me a kiss on the cheek “Doing good Josie, doing really well” I said, sounding more courageous than I felt, but at the same time, feeling every bit as good as I’d stated.

“Glad to hear it!” she chirped, her bauble earrings swinging, and I walked on through to the velvety darkness of the bar area, and found myself a corner table, close enough to the stage but set apart from other tables, where it was darkest.

“you always sat where it was most dark” a familiar voice said and I wheeled around to see the bartender, a beautiful young blonde woman, smiling at me. “How you doing?” I said, patting the seat next to me. “Can’t tonight Lana” she said, grinning, “it’s going to be a full house, we have new talent starting tonight and evidently she comes with a ready made fan club.” “Is that so?” I replied innocently, as she handed me my usual drink and I gave her a $10 tip in cash. “Thanks Lana darlin,” she replied already walking toward a group of customers who had come in and were finding seats near the front.

I settled back in my seat and the show soon started. The first girls were the usual, I knew them, nice girls, pretty and energetic but there was nothing there to hold my interest. Dominique didn’t come out until three drinks later, making sure we’d all paid our dues in bar credit and tips. The stage darkened and I heard her shoes first, tall and thin, shining in the darkness.

A blue light snapped on and I saw her skin, white as snow against the black dress she wore, her hair curled slightly against her neck, waving like a 1940’s movie siren. Her lips were a dark red, almost vampiric, her wrists bound in leather, her legs encased in long leather boots. She looked electrifying, a hush went over the audience, everyone’s eyes fixated on her, as French music lifted into the air and Dominique began to move. Her body was like liquid, as sensuous as cream, she turned and lifted to the sound, pealing her dress from her shoulders as she went. I found myself becoming terribly excited and tried to focus on anything else just long enough to satiate the burning between my legs but nothing worked, her magnetic pull had everyone transfixed, even the bar staff were watching her with a sort of curiosity, surprised that this newcomer had the power to reach out and grab us all in one soft movement. Her eyes seemed to be trying to find me in the darkness, she looked into the gloom from the soft glare of the blue lamp she danced under and we locked gazes, she was dancing for me.

I wanted her so much I ached all over, her hands were touching her own skin where I longed to touch, she cupped her small breasts inside their tight corset and pulled on her nipples to accentuate them under the see-through material. Her skin was taught like a young girls, she still had almost no body fat, she moved across the stage, touching herself, looking as pleasured as anyone could imagine being, a act yes, but such an act it entranced us. The music died down, she was still half-dressed but everyone felt she had been more naked than any dancer that had come before, see the trick with Dominique was, she could pleasure you without even giving you a thing.

Four more dancers and she returned, this time in her underwear, a different outfit, a dark almost brown-red lace. The panties were cut in a French style, with bits of silk clinging to her thighs, she wore the same long leather boots that pulled almost exquisitely tightly against the soft flesh of her thighs. She unpeeled long gloves, she removed her bra and her little breasts sprung out of the material like tiny upturned champagne glasses, the nipples dark and hard. It was this Dominique, as lovely as any woman I could ever have imagined that I had fallen in love with, me the consummate voyeur, used to seeing scores of women remove their clothes for money and able to remain detached at all times.

I had slept with some of the girls, over the years, taken them home and let them go between my legs in gratitude for the tips and kindness I had shown them. I had found ways to be inside them, ways to make them cry out for more of my touch, reversing the roles from voyeur to lover in a moment’s passion. But I’d never loved a girl, never let her inside my heart, never wanted someone as I had long wanted Dominique. I was the watcher, I had power, I didn’t let anyone touch me that deeply.

But this night she had me, as if I were collared and bound to her bed, she had me. I was as suppliant and hungry for her as I had been years before, she was as lovely and able to control me as ever. She removed her panties and turned away from me, I saw the lovely shape of her buttocks and tiny waist, I watched as she touched herself and came away wet and I knew it was because of me, I knew she was enjoying herself as much as I was watching her. The song ended, the audience almost too stunned to clap, money strewn on the stage, she walked off, only in her boots, her little breasts looking surprised against the cold of the evening.

I wanted to run to the bathroom and touch myself but I knew I would not do this, as I would not go back stage but wait to see if she came out to find me. I knew if she did, men would watch her, beg her to spend time with them, women would hate her, also want her, it would be difficult to command any time with her. But just as I had thought it might be best for me to leave my details at the bar and hope she would call me, I felt her hand on my shoulders and turning around I saw her, fully dressed and in her coat, waiting behind me as if we had a prearranged destination.

“Are you coming then?” she said smiling widely at me.

“You have the rest of the evening” I said looking at my watch that now read 10pm.

“That’s the perk of the job” she laughed “I get to set my own hours, and since I bring in more than all those others combined, well..” she looked toward the owner of the venue who was behind the cash register with a satisfied expression on his face “ I can do what I want really…”

“And what do you want?” I smiled in spite of myself.

“You know the answer” she said, taking my coat and pulling me out of my chair. “Don’t worry you don’ have to pay the tab, I have it covered” she said “the least I can do for my muse”

‘Your muse huh?”

“That’s right” she said, touching my lower back as we walked out of the bar, a hundred faces turned toward her “didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t actually” I said, smiling “ I should pay more attention”

“Oh I think you pay attention really well Lana’ she said, taking my hand in hers, ungloved, I felt the warmth of her flesh and tried not to melt, walking out into the cold and wanting her so badly I could not feel it.

“Where are we going?”

“Your place” she said, hailing a cab.

We rode in silence, she kept her hand in mine the entire way, I didn’t press it too tightly but I wanted to, it felt like a small bird although my hands are not big, hers are very delicate, like the rest of her she is built like a dancer, with high thin shoulders, a long narrow torso, slender legs and hardly any curves, she is grace personified, as long as a cool drink. She is bewitching with her long hair falling about her and her velvet eyes boring into you, there is nothing else you can notice or care about in her presence.

Read more of Candice Louisa Daquin’s work at The Feathered Sleep and at Whisper and The Roar. You can also follow her Facebook – Candice Louisa Daquin & The Feathered Sleep.

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