When I stepped inside the gate, the first thing I noticed was the exotic (to me) music, Middle Eastern music that throbbed out of the house. Through the sliding glass doors, I saw her for the first time. She was dancing. Her arms twining together above her like two charmed cobras, as though there were no bones in them at all. Her head turned from left to right and back again, showing one eye and then the other to me, one side then the other of her one eyebrow and each time, the glittering 'third eye' ruby embedded in her forehead just above the bridge of her thin, Indian nose. Her lips were smiling. Her eyes seemed focused on a distant nirvana which both beckoned and eluded her. Those eyes were both sad and suffused with longing. And she appeared alone. I peered into the spattered shadows of the house and saw no sign of anyone else. She was indeed, alone.
I strode closer. Her ass began to shake impossibly fast as if the music demanded a response. Her arms flowed out to her sides, extended horizontally while her hands waved and fluttered. As I approached, my eyes were pulled to her shaking hips and the jangle of the metal fringes of her scarlet and gold outfit reached me. Her legs went heel to toe and back again, shifting her hips to one side then the other while they continued to shake, a complex of two motions. She changed from a side to side swaying of her hips into a rippling front to back motion could suggest only the copulation motion of a woman in the throes of erotic passion. Her liquid motion mesmerized and fire imagination and passion in me.
I moved up to within a few feet of the glass, washed in the light from the room, clearly visible to anyone looking. Vidya had a long veil woven into her cascade of black hair. She may have been five four or five five maybe. She was barefoot. Her back was to me and all I could see was her sari encased hips. They were not visible really, but their motion demanded imagination. I was so struck by her body and the dance it was doing, I was so out of breath, so entranced, all I could manage was a breathless stare. I was too helpless even to respond to her, held in perfect sway by her gesticulating body, all motion and sexy curves surrounded by a penumbra of floating wispy scarves.
Her ass cheeks were shaped and bunched to form globes. When she arched to one side or the other, her hip would form a small shelf accenting the shape and size of her ass. The flesh was firm and tight, flowing from action to action without hesitation or wasted motion. The ass was so dominant that I expected her legs to be fat to support it but when they appears in the momentary gaps in her costume, they appeared slim, muscular to be sure but shapely and tight, perfect extensions of the undulating ass, swathed in the diaphanous gold and scarlet of her costume. She turned in a clicking circle, arms out and then she raised one leg and turned like the sweep hand on a clock face, the leg straight out from her body. She began to turn, bobbing up and down on her toes. At first, her body ticked around the circle, moving from position to position, keeping time with the world and the music. Then having circled completely several times, she dissolved into a whirling dervish, twirling and spinning, her head clicking with each revolution from side to side. The music pulsed around her, reaching out to me and pulling at me. She slowed and stopped, facing me. My eyes remained on her vigorous hips, twitching left and right, then slowing and flowing into a circular motion that thrust each hip impossibly high to each side, bulging without folding the flesh of her sides, her body perfectly suited to the arousing motions of her hips.
My lust-numbed brain finally constructed the fact that she must be able to see me through the screen door through which I was watching her. I looked up from her quaking ass. Vidya was staring at me, an intense stare, eyes fixed on me with a half-smile. But when my eye met hers, she smiled and tossed her head first to one side then the other, her hair flying behind her and the scarf floating till the switching motion jerked it in a new direction. Her smile was blinding and her white teeth shattered the dark, brooding image of exotic erotica that her dance defined. Though she smiled, her eyes retained a shattered look in them, reflecting what I knew to be true about her situation. To find her dancing in this strikingly sensual manner, alone and with such intensity pulled at me and made what I was seeing seem like some ritual before a bloodthirsty god, as though she were a virgin, dancing for her life before they broke her childhood and took her life with the two swords of some brutal religion.
Her hips swung as though on an impossible pivot. The scarves and drapes of her costume whipped about, never settling but always in the air, drifting like cigar smoke in a closed room. Yet for all the motion the costume presented, it covered the lines of her body, suggesting a boundary or muscle at the limit of each impossible movement but showing nothing. My ears finally came back on, and the tinkle of the bells and metal trim jangled with the music, creating a metallic rustle underneath the instrumentation of the song.
Her eyes bored into me and her hands gestured at me, fingers wide and twitching while her hips shook from side to side. Then abruptly, she turned away from me, showing me her shaking ass. I opened the screen door, sliding it open, stepped inside and closed it. Vidya's head turned and she caught me with one eye. She turned her back to me. Then the rush of the music changed, the crashing percussion, frantic electronica and nasal Eastern flute faded; replaced by the swelling of a string melody which seized hold of her hips and began to push them forward and back. The motion began just below her breasts, high up her back; her ass thrust forward in a fluid motion and then it would snap forward the last inch or two, like the crack of a whip. Then it flowed back towards me, sensuously arching backwards till the scarves about her waist parted and I could see the bare flesh of her hips. Vidya would freeze for just a single beat, showing me her body. Then her ass would pop backwards; the scarves would fly high like flamingos flushed from the rushes of a shallow primal river. Every piece of metal decorating her body would plink and tink together and then the motion reverted to the other direction. She must have been moving the center of her pelvis two feet back and forth. Her back rippled with the effort.
All the while her head was turned, straining towards me, her one visible eye cocked completely into the corner but her head was still, while her lower body writhed beneath her. I crossed the intervening space, stopping only when I was close enough to touch her. My cock was engorged and poling my trousers. I wanted to speak, to curse her or demand or command but the music beguiled and her weaving body silenced me. She stared at me with that intense one-eyed stare she could manage over her shoulders, bringing her ass back to within inches of my erect cock and then retreating. I stripped off my shirt and tossed it to the floor. Vidya pulled a yellow scarf from the side of her costume and tossed it onto my shirt. I kicked off shoes and dropped my pants, stripping off underwear and socks and deposited them on the other side of her revealing my long, hard erection. She covered my clothing with another, scarlet scarf. I stood before her, naked while her body thrashed before me, possessed by the music and possessing me to the core.
Finally, I heard the music begin to modulate, shifting keys in anticipation of some change. I put both hands out and when her ass approached me again, I lay them on her hips. She became completely still. The music changed. The flow of the sitar dropped to nearly nothing and the percussion returned, throbbing drums and tambourines bound together with a wriggling Eastern flute. Yet she did not move. I pulled a bit but she did not budge, instead my body shuffled forward and the end of my cock crept into the cleft of her mighty ass. Her ass began to shake, but without moving, without unsettling my hands clasped gently on the upper slope of each hip. Vidya's hands extended to each side, even with her shoulders, fluttering like pennants in a victorious wind and then she began to bend from the waist. From her narrow, impossibly small waist, at the horizon-line of her ass which divided upper torso from lower body. Her ass cracked and her pussy appeared as she bent lower. The ass shook under my hands with impossible motion originating in the muscles. Her skin was slick and I could smell her musk, the dank aroma of arousal that hung in the air. I pulled on her hips, pressing my cock against her body.
