“It’s the last descriptor I want you to focus on, Tessa. No one’s asking you to walk into church in that outfit. But someday, someone is going to thank God when you walk into his bedroom in it.” He put his arm around her shoulder and dangled his long fingers until they lightly brushed the place where lace met skin. “Even in this light, I can see how much your nipples beg to be fondled.” He pressed the black lace and felt the hardness of Tessa’s nipple underneath.
Russell’s exploration was interrupted by the explosion of lights at the front of the room. There was a small stage, now brightly lit. On the stage was a simple cane chair, turned so the back of the chair faced the audience. In the chair was a redhead with smooth, light skin and long, red fingernails. She wore a soft pink bustier, a long string of pearls around her neck and a pink G String. Tessa noticed this woman had a Brazilian.
Russell spoke softly into Tessa’s ear. “This is Bunny Love, or at least that’s her stage name. She will not speak, but she will be your teacher for the next ten minutes. Her moves are sensuous and provocative in the beginning. She’ll build on that; men will be clawing at themselves by the end of her number. Notice how she moves. But mostly notice how comfortable she is with her body.”
Tessa watched, transfixed. Bunny’s eyes focused on a point in the distance while she moved to music; the chair was her dance partner, her companion, and her lover. She strutted around it, hoisting a toned leg up and over it. She bent over it, showing the audience every part of herself not covered by the bustier and G String. She oozed and slithered and flexed, and each movement was slow and languorous and so sexy Tessa was amazed. Not once did she seem to doubt her body or the sexy, provocative things she did with it.
The tempo of the music changed, and Bunny changed with it.
“Watch how she moves from temptress to hot sex,” Russell said, just as Bunny unsnapped the top hook of her bustier. Timed to the music and with a rawness that took Tessa’s breath away, Bunny’s bright red nails popped the hooks of her bustier one by one. When the last was unhooked, she flung it off her body, like unwanted weight. All she wore now were hot pink pasties and a soft pink G String.
The early music had been playfully provocative. It was raw sex now.
Bunny Love strutted forward, away from her lover—the chair—and faced the audience. She toyed with the string that held her diminutive G String in place, tugging it as if she would rip it off. She sucked a finger with her bright red lips and then inched the finger over to the thin strip of lace that covered her slit. Each time her finger came close to her clit, she pulled it away and shook her head, no-no. She played with the tassels on the end of her pasties, moving her breasts to the rhythm of the music. And she ended at the exact moment her music did: standing with her back to the audience, bent over, each hand pulling a cheek apart just enough to give the audience a glimpse of the thin pink lace between her butt cheeks. Bunny moved a finger to the bit of lace that hid her anus, wiggled her bright red fingernail and gave the audience an exaggerated wink. The lights died, and Bunny Love silently moved off the stage.
Tessa was flabbergasted. It was sexy, if a bit lurid, but she could no more prance and primp and shake her ass than fly. Not to mention play peek-a-boo with her anus. She told Russell as much.
“You’d be surprised what you can do, if you decide you want to. But you better decide quick.” Russell pointed to the woman headed their way. “Because the master teacher is about to take the student through a practice exercise.”
Russell ushered Tessa to a corner with chairs, tables and floor-to-ceiling curtains. He sat her in a chair, and pulled the curtains closed. A moment later, the woman Tessa had seen entering the room stepped through the curtain, put her hands on her hips and said, “You have all the equipment honey. You just need to learn how to use it.”