#{ dancer }

[dance-world]

Duke Rouge - photo by KRVT

[onenicebugperday]

Vivid dancer, Argia vivida, Coenagrionidae, Zygoptera

Found in western North America

Photos 1-2 by Thomas Shahan, 3 by leslie_s, and 4 by camerondeckert

[tridentandtales]

Greek statue of a veiled dancer

3rd - 2nd century BCE

Metropolitan Museum of Art 1972.118.95

[hagenlastkiss]

Julie Newmar as Catwoman

[intelligenthottie]

৻ꪆ michael jackson x you bby

by the time your boy came in, you'd been in the studio for about five and a half hours.

it's not your fault that you're meticulous with everything. detail-oriented. that's one of the first things michael noticed he adored about you.

whenever he would watch you warm up, he saw how you took time to prepare your lines and legs throughly. you knew exactly which muscles you intended to use in your choreography. textures and dynamics were so important to you when creating more mature and expressive movement choices. you never wanted anyone that was watching to know how you were going to hit the next accent.

michael had never seen you adjust your clothes during your sessions.

the tops you often wore that barely covered your chest were always tied up in a tight bow. your bottoms, whether baggy or tight, always sat perfectly on the soft plush of your hips without riding up or down. you changed out your navel piercing to not only match each of your outfits, but to accentuate your body as you danced.

when stretching your back, it would sparkle as the studio light caught hold of it, contrasting real pretty against your tanned stomach. the heels you wore forced your feet into an exaggerated arch, creating the most gorgeous line from your shin down to your toes.

you were teaching two of your tour mates the last eight-count for the night when michael walked into the dim room.

briefly, your head turned over your shoulder to meet his eyes, not stopping your count. in return he gave a soft smile, not wanting to interrupt what you were finishing up. he sat down in one of the plastic fold up chairs that stood in the corner of the studio, adjusting down in his seat so his legs could spread out comfortably. your girls shared a look with each other before looking over at you, watching the way your tongue toyed with the inside of your bottom lip. you ignored them, truthfully not wanting to keep them there for much longer. "we're gonna do this two more times," you told them as you walked over to the stereo. "and don't forget to wait until the snare to throw your head back."

michael's eyes behind his sunglasses shamelessly trailed down your body. he saw the moisture gathering down the faint cleavage of your back, making your skin shine. he's always loved the way you walked. your hips moved effortlessly and your calves tightened up with every step you took. he could see the supple flesh of your ass bounce in such a feminine way that made his heart race.

those same eyes stayed stuck on you as he watched you do the floor section with them. his head bopped subtly to the hard bass of the song, and he would nod even harder when he felt like a move hit him differently. michael leaned forward in his chair slowly, elbows resting against his knees as he watched your body drag against the hardwood. the movement quality was filthy in the prettiest way — controlled hips, soft back, sharp accents.

he especially loved the way you delayed your movement by half a count before catching the music perfectly. it made people watch harder. made them wait for you. by the time your knees spread against the floor and your spine arched back into the snare, michael was chewing the inside of his cheek beneath his small smile.

after the last run-through, the room finally settled into silence aside from everybody’s heavy breathing and the faint hum of the stereo.

“better,” you told them, hands planted on your hips as you caught your breath. “yall finally stopped rushing the count.”

one of the girls laughed, reaching over for her water bottle. “girl it's because you threatened to make us do it ten more times.”

“and i would’ve,” you replied easily.

michael smiled to himself from the corner of the room.

“alright, that’s it for tonight,” you finally sighed, walking over to shut the music off. “go home before your knees hate me tomorrow.”

the girls gathered their things slowly, exchanging little looks once they noticed michael still sitting there watching you. “night, mj,” one of them teased softly on the way out.

“goodnight,” he answered, never fully taking his eyes off you. he kept his voice soft in that tone that made you feel a type of way.

the door shut behind them with a soft click.

and suddenly the studio felt much smaller.

you started to walk towards him, curiosity getting the best of you as you asked quietly, "wanna see it again?"

that made michael look up from where he sat slouched in the folding chair. "hm?"

"the floor section," your manicured fingers toyed with the slightly frayed bottom of your heel absentmindedly. "i feel like i wanna change some things."

he straightened up a little bit, looking at you all handsome.

"yeah mama," he answered softly, "show me."

so you did. you let the music play at a lower volume than you had it before, wanting to hear any type of praise or suggestion that he had to give. having full confidence in yourself never took any pleasure away from your man telling you how good you are.

you rolled slowly onto your knees, thighs spreading against the hardwood as your hips caught the bass a half-count later than expected. instead of hitting every accent immediately, you allowed the movement to linger inside your body first. it made people watch you harder. wait for you.

michael loved that.

you refused to rush the music. you let certain movements sit in your body for an extra beat, letting the tension build visibly in your shoulders and hips before finally releasing it into the next count.

michael pushed himself up with a quiet grunt, hands dragging over his knees before he wandered toward the back wall. he could now himself behind you in the reflection of the studio mirror which was partially steamed up due to how much you've been working. he had on black ed hardy sweats today that looked so soft against his lean frame. they sat low on his hips, bunching around his long legs whenever he shifted his weight. he tilted his head at you in quiet concentration, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his pocket.

you melted down onto one hip, letting your weight settle into the floor before rolling through your spine. one arm kept you lifted while the other traced lazily up your calf, acrylic nails ghosting against your heel.

the movement stayed soft until it didn’t.

your hips pressed forward against the floor as your leg extended sharply toward the ceiling, the arch through your back deepening while your stomach stayed tight and controlled beneath it. the studio lights caught against the shine of your skin every time you shifted.

“yeah,” michael murmured softly after exhaling through his nose. “don’t change that.”

"you liked it?" you asked, furrowing your brows a little as you adjusted your position in the mirror.

a cute sounding mhm left michael's lips as his beautiful smile grew. you tended to make him shy. "that looked prettier slower," he told you, his complex choreographer head following you ever so slightly through the mirror.

there was something almost unfair about the contrast of it all. delicate hands, soft wrists, pretty fingers paired with the brutal precision of your lower body whenever the bass kicked in. "do that again," he'd say, not trying to sound too demanding.

you'd do the same step, this time keeping eye contact with him as you did so.

"i love the way you hear the music, baby," michael murmured.

pushing yourself up off of the floor, your hand smoothed over your exposed thigh as you walked. michael's eyes followed you the entire way over. by the time you got in front of him, he was already reaching out without thinking. "c'mere."

needy boy.

your stomach tightened from how quietly he said it. you let him pull you in so gently to stand between his legs. his head lulled back against the wall, looking down at you with curls in his face. you could feel the coolness of his silver rings against the warmth of your bare hips, which his large hands had settled on instinctively.

"you know what the problem is?" michael asked you quietly.

you raised your brows, "what?"

he smiled off to the side before looking back down at you. "you be flirtin' with the music like you should be flirtin' with me."

you laughed softly beneath your breath, pushing his shoulder back. "i flirt with you all the time."

michael ducked his head with a quiet laugh to match yours, his thumbs slowing on your dewy skin. "not enough," he murmured just enough for you to hear. you knew he was playing with you.

the smallest sound left the back of your throat as your pretty lips puffed out in a pout, feeling his hands guide you against him. " 'm sorry," you teased, tilting your head up to give him a gentle kiss. two more slow kisses were exchanged before you spoke against his lips, "i'll work on it."

michael hummed in return as one of his hands dragged over to the small of your back. "trust, you don't gotta work on anything for me," he shook his head after kissing you one more time. "i think you're perfect."

your smile softened at that, small fingers gently rubbing the nape of his neck.

"help me get this section perfect?" you suggested with a lilted tone, feeling him squeeze your hips while he chuckled prettily.

"of course," he replied.

you stepped away from his legs, your hand lingering in his for an extra second before letting go.

michael crossed his arms loosely over his chest as you got your music ready. you looked up, catching his eyes in the mirror. "just the last four eight-counts, okay?"

"mhm," he murmured, "dance for me baby."

[blumineck]

Why are pole dancers usually mostly naked (and why am I usually not)?

I get this question from both directions, depending on how familiar people are with pole. In truth, I prefer the chrome for dancing, but silicone is better for videos.

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[chantssecrets]

Bill T. Jones, Body Painted by Keith Haring, 1983 - Photography by Tseng Kwong Chi.