The Limelight
I loved watching her dance. Especially after rehearsals, after performances, when the theater was empty and the lights shone only on her, and only for me. The security turned a blind eye to the audience rushing the stage when it was just the two of us.
If I'd tried for the job I'd have been their costuming supervisor in a heartbeat, the way I learned the ins and outs of how they were put together, how they fell apart. It didn't take any effort to offend their intricate dignity and send them fluttering to the stage. It didn't matter, she was more beautiful than any of them.
There was something alien in her, something exotic. Her soft, tanned fur still seemed to smell like the desert, with all its intoxicating secrets. I looked at her in the harsh theater lighting and could almost feel like her soft golden glow was cast by the foreign sun.
She was a rough and wild lover. Sometimes I think that's why I was hers, even with so many better men around. Wealthier. More respected. More handsome. It didn't matter--I didn't mind the ferocity of her embrace. I welcomed it. I needed it.
The way she would pin me to the stage, one firm hand on my throat, and wrap her fangs around my neck made my heart go wild. She was the predator, I was the prey. She would slowly lean back, lying down on the stage, gently pulling me on top of her with her fangs.
She never broke the skin. Sometimes I think I wanted her to. Her hands would find my jacket, tear it off. Her claws would find my shirt, shred it. Her fangs would never let go. I would be allowed to struggle out of my slacks and that was it, her legs were around my waist.
I couldn't have broken free if I tried, and sometimes I pretended to. Her long tufted tail would curl lovingly around my hips while her strong dancer's legs restrained me. Sometimes I would tease her, pulling back and angling my hips up so my cock would only brush against her, and she would have to re-adjust to force me to fuck her.
When I was firmly inside her she would gently remove her fangs and run her claws through my mane, her amber eyes locked into mine. My hands were free to roam her body, across her breasts, down her stomach, to her hips, up her sides, and back again for round two.
She would raise her hips against mine the deeper I thrust and I would slide my hands down under her ass, bringing her closer, bringing her in. Her legs would relax, I would feel her grinding against my cock, my hips, I would feel myself getting closer, I would feel her start to clench around me, and as I came I would lean in and gently bite her neck.
We would lie together as long as we could, but all good things must end and our nights together were no exception. At the end of the day, when the theater closed, she was still the star, and I was still her driver. When the time came for her to move on, she moved on without me.
I would see her in the newspapers sometimes, always closely followed by a young male horse, and I would smile to myself. I wasn't hers any longer, but I'd set a trend that would scandalize the gossip column for her entire career.