Page 18 of Not About That Life
Six
I ate too damn much at Thanksgiving.
Despite the copious amounts of tea and not being able to eat because I was laughing so hard at Dalton, Emma, and Bianca shading the hell out of each other, I did manage to finish one big plate and half of another one.
What can I say? My English bae knows how to make soul food.
He even made sweet potato pie and Lord, if that didn’t promise me reparations and my forty acres and a mule, I don’t know what will.
Still, the thought of Ian introducing soul food at Sentiment doesn’t sit well with me. I know it’ll be a hit and it’ll bring in more of a crowd. I’m not saying he shouldn’t; it’s his restaurant and he can most certainly do whatever he wants with it.
But do I really want Ian to popularize something that’s been done for centuries? Everything is all good until Elvis Presley and Eminem make it cool. Next thing you know, they’re labeled as legends while the real pioneers are home listening to their records that sound just about white.
Enough with the cultural appropriation, I need to focus on my routine. I’m hoping my fat ass won’t let me fall too hard on the hardwood floor. Maybe next time, I’ll have just one helping of sweet potato pie.
I turn on “Untitled” by D’Angelo and feel the begging guitar strings course through my body. The sharp piano chords thump against my feet as I climb up the pole just a few feet from the ground. My legs slowly swim in the air. I stop momentarily and grab my ankle, creating a split along the pole.
I close my eyes and imagine Ian. It wasn’t my intention to think of my fiancée but the song is so sensual, I naturally imagine I’m giving this dance just for him only.
My intention goes from the haunting guitar strings to the hard piano chords. I flip backwards on the pole and immediately slam down to the floor in a full split. I fold my body over and stretch my right leg to my ear again.
Damn, this is a hot position. I need to try this one with Ian. He’s already a fan of how flexible I can get.
I fold my body back over and go into another split, showing all of me. I slither on the floor, swaying my hips to the melody and D’Angelo’s declaration how much he loves it when I get wet (damn, that really reminds me of Ian).
My body is hot to the touch and I feel a familiar dampness in my bikini. My body flips over again and I slide to another pole, stretching out my legs along the length of it. I slowly gyrate against the floor before I grab the pole and bend over backwards as I lift myself up.
My hands are all over my body as D’Angelo’s falsetto whispers to me. My nipples are rock hard, my breathing is slightly sporadic, and all I want is my fiancée to fuck my mouth. I feel so sexy, so aroused, and yet so incredibly focused.
I slide over to another pole and circle around it. I feel the climax of the song approaching and I know it’s my cue for the grand finale. My mind can’t help but to wonder how each time Ian and I make love, it’s the last few minutes before the climax that are the most intense. Feeling his body slap against mine, his tongue shoved into my mouth, his wondering hands all over my body, as he stretches me out with each thrust.
“How does it feel, angel?”
“Mmm, it feels good, baby.”
I quickly climb up the pole using only arms, as I spread my legs into open splits with every other movement. My movements are quick and fierce, with no breather in between – just like how Ian flips me over into another position.
At the crescendo of the song, I delve into a full split as I hold one leg against my head while my body softly turns around the pole. I stop spinning long enough to grab the pole with both hands and make a perfect Y along the pole.
I close my legs and ease down the pole, softly gyrating against it. Feeling all sorts of sensual and sexy, I walk to the center of the poles, softly dragging my feet and stand still as D’Angelo’s voice fades to black.
The crowd before me erupts into a thunderous applause and I legit forgot about them. I’m glad I didn’t reveal too much of my performance or I would’ve been a YouTube star for a different reason.
“Now that I’m warmed up,” I hope the crimson in my cheeks isn’t too obvious, “let’s start the class.”
~~~~~
After we closed up Angel Dance Studios, we needed a break from Thanksgiving food (well, I don’t have any food left because I ate all of it) so I took the squad out for a celebratory dinner at Sentiment.
As I picked up the heavy leather-bound menu, I quickly skim over the list to see if Ian’d already made the change. His family raved about the dishes and Ian said he’d hoped to debut themsoon,whenever that is.
I just…I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m happy Ian has adapted to my culture but I feel he might be trying to introduce something new to the masses that had long been established. I feel like he’s trying to Bo Derek his way into soul food cuisine.
“You have been quiet all evening,” Emma quietly speaks to me as she glances up from her menu. “Everything okay, Dom?”
“Ian’s going to introduce soul food here soon,” I hope my reply isn’t too blistering, “I’m just wondering what that’s going to taste like.”
“Well, Thanksgiving was delicious. Better than any shit Elise has ever done, that’s for damn sure.” Emma’s eyes briefly widen.
