A Routine EnslavementChapter 32 The Fate of A Dancer
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The Dancer free porn video
THE DANCER
BY
JANICE
(1)
I am Dwight Johnson; I am the only child of professional ballroom
dancers who also teach dancing. For most of my fifteen, almost sixteen,
years I remember them dancing professionally and teaching. My mother
taught me to dance as a youth and I enjoyed it. They have a dance
studio across town in a one floor building which houses several other
studios which teach other types of dance.
I always admired my mother's beautiful gowns that she wore when on tour
and how they flowed and spun as she and my father danced around the
floor.
Last Halloween, I had no costume for a party and my mom suggested that
I should wear one of her gowns. I had never given a thought to wearing
any of her clothes but it sounded like a good idea, so I wore one; that
started a new trend for me. From that time on I wanted to wear her
gowns so whenever I had the chance, I would find myself in one,
practicing dancing by myself. I had heard the Ginger Rogers once said
that a woman could dance as good as a man and do it backwards and in
high heels. I guess she was right, at least about the high heels
because when I did wear her gowns and practiced by myself, I always
wore high heels, and it was difficult but it just wasn't the same
dancing backwards solo.
One weekend I was to find that out.
My parents were on a weekend tour and their studio was closed.
Have you ever done something that sounded like a good idea at the time
and never stopped to think it through? Come on...you know you did.
I planned to go to our studio alone, I knew I would be alone there
because we, and the other studio that shared the building with us,
would be closed because they too would be sending representatives to
the tour.
I was going to wear my mother's latest gown. It was pink, with
spaghetti straps and a tight waist and the fullest skirt I had ever
seen. All ruffles and lace that must hade stood out several feet in
diameter. Of course I took high heels and everything else she wore with
that particular outfit.
I put on the under things at home and carried the dress all scrunched
up in a duffle bag, along with all the accessories.
It was about a twenty minute drive to our studio; a one floor building
with two dance studios. I arrived just before eight, parking my car
just outside the side door to my studio.
It took about twenty minutes for me to get into my (Mothers) gown and
another to do my make-up; I was doing this as if I was really going to
dance for a show or something.
I set up my CD player with a sound track from one of the shows we had
attended. (*note...my parents, and other studio/schools sometimes use
what they call "Partners", which are nothing but full size, about five
foot five, articulated, stuffed dolls which are sometimes used as
partners by the students when there are not enough partners to go
around; they have stirrups instead of feet so the students can stick
their feet through so they do not flop around while dancing.)
It felt a bit different to be able to use so much more space than my
living room to dance in. I loved the feel of my dress rubbing against
my legs as I swung around the floor and twirled about. The only thing I
could not really experience was the feel of my skirt against my legs as
if a guy was standing close to me. I danced several dances and then
came a slow one. I pulled my "Partner" close to me and moved around the
wide floor when all of a sudden I almost had a heart attack...someone
tapped me on my shoulder and asked if he could cut in.
Well, I'll tell you...I damn near shit my panties, I was supposed to be
alone here. I let out a squeal of fright and dropped my partner.
I turned to see one of the instructors from the school across the hall
who, like me, came to practice.
Once I got my heart rate back to fewer than two hundred beats a minute
and was able to talk, I explained that I was a student and like him, by
the way, his name was Jarrod, wanted some private practice.
He asked if we could practice together and I saw immediately that doing
that would show me what I wanted, what it felt like dancing with a man
and doing everything he did, backwards and wearing high heels, and I
did get to experience my skirt being pushed against my legs as we dance
close; something the partner could never do.
About an hour later, we were dancing a slow one and he was holding me
close I looked up at him and all of a sudden he, just like a guy,
spoiled the whole thing; he kissed me.
I pushed him away and stepped back at the same time yelled at him,
"What the hell did you do that for?"
I felt like I was about to barf, being kissed by a guy wasn't anywhere
near something I wanted to do.
He started apologizing. I accepted his apology just so as not to start
anything but kept backing away.
I turned away and walked toward the dressing room telling him that it
was late and I had to be going.
I watched as he left and went to his studio. I wanted to get out of
there as soon as possible so in the dressing room all I did was take
off my shoes and put on my sneakers, not bothering to change my gown I
threw my boys things in the duffle bag except for my jogging jacket
which I threw on over my gown.
I must have looked a sight...a pretty girl in a fancy gown wearing a
jogging jacket and dirty sneakers; I really didn't care, all I wanted
to do was get the hell out of there before Jarrod decided to come back.
There was a car, which I assumed to be Jarrod's, parked a few spaces
from my compact car. I threw my duffle bag in the back seat and climbed
into the front seat.
You girls out there will appreciate this; all of a sudden the front
seat was way too small for my skirt. It almost filled the front seat
and I couldn't see the pedals and I had to pull and tug at my skirt to
get it all in the car so as to not get it jammed in the door. I finally
managed to get in all the way without damaging the dress, I hoped, and
drive out of the parking lot. I guess Jarrod was either busy or was
waiting for me to leave because I saw neither hide not hair of him
while I was struggling to get in my cat.
I pulled over to the curb a few blocks down the street to start
breathing again. It took a few minutes to get back complete control of
myself. Not seeing his car leave the parking lot, I took a few more
deep breaths and drove home slowly; I was not about to be stopped by a
cop for doing something stupid.
Finally I pulled into my driveway and into the garage, didn't want
neighbors to see me getting out of the car.
I went to my room and into my pajamas in record time. I put everything
away in its proper place and went to bed.
Before falling asleep I promised myself that I would never, never, do
something stupid as that again, going out in one of my mother's ball
gowns, and I kept that promise, but I didn't promise that I wouldn't
wear one of them again.
For the next few months I went back to doing what I had always done
when they were away, I put on one of her gowns and stayed inside with
all the shades and drapes closed.
There was that one time though, when I was, as usual, in a gown and I
noticed that my father's liquor cabinet was left unlocked. I had never
drank any liquor so I guess I went too far...I remember having a few
drinks and curling up on the couch with my gown around me while
watching "Top Hat" with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers on TV and the
next thing I knew it was broad daylight and my head hurt and I felt
like I was going to throw up and both my parents were sitting across
the room looking at me.
[If anyone wants to finish this...go right ahead, all I ask is that you
keep it "G", give me some credit...(like from an idea by...or something
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Yvette
- 12.08.2022
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