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She had no idea where she currently stood with the man that her eyes rested upon, the one who was situated in the crowd, the one who said he wanted her, the one who was slightly obsessed with her, never letting her phone rest each night, the one whose name was Clement. As she twirled seductively round the iron pole, eyes on him at the entrance, his heated gaze watching her, she thought of him, of his mouth on hers, of the feeling he stirred in her. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like, the feel of his tongue on her skin, the sensations his fingers whispering to her core would arise. These emotions, it reflected in her dance, making it ten times more erotic than before. Her viewers watched spellbound, mouth open, tongue loose, testosterone high, manhood soaring proudly, aroused. What a sight it was! When she was done, the applause came, roaring, deafening. She opened her eyes and stared straight at him for a moment before she walked off the stage.
He watched her leave, an aching in his loins, pressing, demanding. The things this woman managed to do to him was beyond description. He knew that she had done it on purpose, teased him at the pole, holding his gaze. When she had closed her eyes and the emotions portrayed had increased, he had known somewhere in his subconscious that he wished she was thinking of him, imagining what being with him was like, expressing the pleasure he would bring her and his groin had tightened uncontrollably. He had been encased, unable to look away, enchanted by her eyes, her lithe fiery body. He had watched her every move, every erotic testosterone quickening curve of her hip, her leg, her long whipping caramel hair. It had taken everything in him to stop his feet from moving towards her, to hold her in his arms, kiss her senseless, claim her, possess all of her intimately, carnally, succumbing to her morassing duende. When it was all over, she had opened her eyes and gazed at him, an unspoken invitation in her eyes. Then, she turned and left, like a soft breeze, her long caramel hair his last glimpse of her.
She hurried to her changing room, her heart beating fast at the fleshly promises that she had glimpsed in his deep eyes. God! She was no longer falling for him. She had fallen, completely immersed, entrapped. She was throat deep in her love for him. It was a quagmire. Oh and what a delicious delirious and seemingly complicated quagmire it was!