Music starts

The music starts

slow guitar

growling bass

dirty brass

drums kick in

high hat

snare.

.

His eyes

are upon her

watching her face

watching her body

as she moves.

.

She has never

felt more

a woman

than she does

right now.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

This post is six years old, yet a dancer is always special to me.

Art by Jeremy Mann

 

Paris

Winter in England

afternoon giving way

to evening

filling the windows

of this ancient room

with darkness.

.

Yet for this moment

I am not here.

.

I am playing scratchy

smoky

sensual

haunting

French jazz

on my turntable.

.

I can almost smell

the Gauloises

and the Chanel.

.

I can almost hear

Pigalle

bursting with life

outside my window.

.

I can almost imagine

you and I

somehow both

transported

to a Paris summer.

.

I am sprawled

loose-limbed and easy

in an old leather chair

drinking wine.

.

And you are dancing

and shedding clothes

and blowing me kisses

while I

smiling

enchanted

enraptured

adoring

applaud.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant/Faded Romantic

Art by Hamish Blakely

 

Music starts

The music starts

slow guitar

growling bass

dirty brass

drums kick in

high hat

snare.

.

His eyes

are upon her

watching her face

watching her body

as she moves.

.

She has never

felt more

a woman

than she does

right now.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This is five years old, yet a dancer is always special.

Art by Jeremy Mann

 

Command Performance

 

 

He wants

to make her body sing

to train her

to direct her

to conduct her

to control her.

 

He wants

to make her body sing

to be his chanteuse

to be his nightingale

to be his diva

to be his leading lady soprano

pouring out her soul

 

He wants

to make her body sing

and sigh

and dance

and glide

and twist

and writhe

and shiver

and sway

and fill his stage

with her perfect submission

a command performance

only for him.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This post is three years old – but a command performance is always special.

Art by Laszio Gulyas

 

Imagine a girl

 

Imagine a girl.

She is young. Yet still a woman.

Imagine a girl

She is dancing.

Her hair is a dark storm cascading over her shoulders and down her back. It is wild and wayward. It frames her lovely face with waves and curls. Her expression is serious as she concentrates on the music.

Yet when she smiles it ignites the room.

Imagine a girl.

She is dancing.

Her body is a paradise of lines and curves. Her shape is slender but not thin. She is exquisitely proportioned, poised and peachy perfect. Her movements are sensual, sexy, and subtle.

She knows how to move. But shedding her clothes is new.

Imagine a girl

She is dancing

She is dancing to Lana Del Rey ….

I do not have to imagine her.

She is dancing for me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Mark Spain

I wrote this almost exactly five years ago. But I really like it, so here it is again.

 

Paris

 

Winter in England

afternoon giving way

to evening

filling the windows

of this ancient room

with darkness.

 

Yet for this moment

I am not here.

 

I am playing scratchy

smoky

sensual

haunting

French jazz

on my turntable.

 

I can almost smell

the Gauloises

and the Chanel.

 

I can almost hear

Pigalle

bursting with life

outside my window.

 

I can almost imagine

you and I

somehow both

transported

to a Paris summer.

 

I am sprawled

loose-limbed and easy

in an old leather chair

drinking wine.

 

And you are dancing

and shedding clothes

and blowing me kisses

while I

smiling

enchanted

enraptured

adoring

applaud.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

I wrote this around this time last year. But I like it so I am inflicting it upon readers again.

Art by Hamish Blakely

 

Lost in the dancing

 

I imagine you dancing

your body lost

in the music

lost in the rhythm

lost in the feeling

lost in the excitement

lost in the arousal

of dancing

just for me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

 

Blue dress

 

If I

was an artist

I would steal

this pure

and perfect

blue sky

and paint you

a cobalt dress

to wear only

when you dance

for me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not new, but the sky is blue …

Art by Malcolm Liepke

 

Command Performance

 

 

He wants

to make her body sing

to train her

to direct her

to conduct her

to control her.

 

He wants

to make her body sing

to be his chanteuse

to be his nightingale

to be his diva

to be his leading lady soprano

pouring out her soul

 

He wants

to make her body sing

and sigh

and dance

and glide

and twist

and writhe

and shiver

and sway

and fill his stage

with her perfect submission

a command performance

only for him.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

This post is two years old – but a command performance is always special.

Art by Laszio Gulyas

 

Paris

 

Winter in England

afternoon giving way

to evening

filling the windows

of this ancient room

with darkness.

 

Yet for this moment

I am not here.

 

I am playing scratchy

smoky

sensual

haunting

French jazz

on my turntable.

 

I can almost smell

the Gauloises

and the Chanel.

 

I can almost hear

Pigalle

bursting with life

outside my window.

 

I can almost imagine

you and I

somehow both

transported

to a Paris summer.

 

I am sprawled

loose limbed and easy

in an old leather chair

drinking wine.

 

And you are dancing

and shedding clothes

and blowing me kisses

while I

smiling

enchanted

enraptured

adoring

applaud.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Hamish Blakely