The Dancer
My name is Portia and I write stories with an air of mystery and what happened next? mixed in with sexy arousal. The Dancer a short excerpt of a longer story. This is my first attempt at posting here so be kind. I hope you enjoy it.
The Dancer

Upon hearing the music seduced Matt first. Exotic, alluring, it drew him closer to the house with the open window. Being new to the area, he did not know the occupiers, but went as close to the window as he dared.

The curtains were open and Matt, standing at the side of the window, kept himself out of sight of anyone in the room dared to peek inside. The music appeared to get louder and he was amazed at what he saw.

A tall, slender woman with long dark hair, he assumed to be Latino in origin, owing to the dusky hue of her skin, danced exotic moves to an alluring number. The most amazing thing about her, however, and Matt's eyes opened quite considerably at the fact, was that she appeared to be almost naked.  The only thing she had on was a white corset. Even that was partially open at the top, which was extremely revealing of her dark perky tits with even darker prominent nipples that moved with a beckoning nature when she swayed to the rhythm.

 The music was seductive enough but the way she danced made Matt desire her above all other women in the world. He wondered who she was dancing for, and if she knew he was watching.

The dancer, however, seemed to be in a world of her own.  She had both hands high up above her head, and her elbows slightly bent. Her jawline was elfin, petite.He watched her, as With eyes closed and pouting lips, she gyrated, at one with the music. hips and legs that swayed, almost as if charmed, with such poise, grace and ease, became intoxicating. Matt seemed rooted to the spot. Every now and then, Matt caught a glimpse of her delicate, fresh shaved pussy.

He licked his lips. His throat felt dry and a bead of sweat trickled down his face.  He longed to see more. He sensed an overwhelming stirring in his groin and with arousal caused a sweating, that his damp shirt cling to his chest. Yet still he could not move. He longed to dance with her. Drawn like a magnet as close as he dared to the window, he continued to watch, and instinctively his own hand began rubbing his own straining hardness.   

Feeling totally aroused, Matt glanced down at himself. He longed to free himself, knowing just how hard he had become. His lump pressed inside his clothing to the point of almost being painful. Matt was desperate for release.

It was just then, however, that he realized the dancer was not alone. Sitting half in shadow in an armchair, was a sharp suited man with short back and sides. What worried Matt most of all though, was the fact he had a gun. Even worse than that, however, was the fact that it was pointed right at him ...
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