Kajirae Thoughts – Shadow Dance

Shadow Dance

The girl known as kei wandered the empty tavern without aim. She pushed the thick brown hair back from her face. She adjusted the white cloth that caressed her shapely body as if it mattered. And she rolled night into day and back again in her mind.

The fire in the pit played in shadows along the stone wall that spanned the front of the great room. Kettles, washed and greased, sat upturned and empty – like the girl’s stomach. She moved silently to the wall and turned to stand facing the empty room, her back just inches from the wall’s cold surface. She moved to straighten herself, her back, strong and straight as a warrior’s blade; shoulders pushed back firmly, forcing her breasts to inch forward delicately. She raised her silky arms above her head and brought them down slowly, and with purpose.

She touched her fingers to her hair, smooth and smelling of lilacs and rosehips. The fire danced its opulent dance across the girl’s pensive face. Yellow flowers that had once been woven into the girl’s dark mane fluttered to the floor noiselessly.

She touched her fingers to her lips, full and sweet, then kissed their velvety tips, licking them, caressing them with her tongue, eyes closes, lips parted. The fire glittered and scittered across the back of the girl’s hands, her face, her neck, as she dragged her wet fingers down the smooth of her neck, her throat, and to her shoulders, creamy and soft.

The girl moved as if to a silent song, a song only she could hear. She gripped the tangle of knotted silk upon her left shoulder and loosened it, letting it fall. The silk trembled to her feet while the fire swayed golden across the her naked body.

Eyes still closed, she moved her small hands to her breasts, her fingertips circling the nipples, small shadows against the wall. She pressed her palms flat against herself lifting her breasts in offering to a mind and hand imagined, to lips she hardly knew. She let go.

The fire chased itself across the girl’s flat belly and lingered, like the stirring within. The girl’s soft sigh filled the room. She stepped out of the fallen silk, her unmarked thighs glistening in the shadowy firelight as she moved.

With great care, the girl slowly lowered her hungry body toward the floor until she was resting firmly upon her smooth pink heels; her back remained true as she moved, straight as a promise, her breasts fluidly foward; her widely spread thighs revealed her soft sex, shimmering in the light. She lowered her head to her own satiny thighs, kissing them gently. Tearfully, she replaced her kisses with her hands, palms upturned, fingers humbly curled.

Then she rose. She pulled a rough black garment on over her head, fastening it loosely to her tired body… nothing more than a shadow now, a shadow dancer, a private dancer, fading into the night.