The Secret Of the Spotlight

I'm a bit hesitant about this story. The person I wrote it for listed Burlesque as a fetish, so I went ahead and wrote out an act, more or less. The power exchange is in there, as is the fetishism and the other bits of fun. But I'm not sure how much fiction this really counts as. It's more like a script.

Well, either way... I hope you enjoy it.

The Secret of the Spotlight

Based on the applause and the immediate catcalls, there had to be at least a dozen people there. But with the spotlight shining, Leslie couldn't see any of them. She couldn't see anyone but the man on the chair, the man who was decidedly ignoring her.

She walked around the stage, did a lap around him. She put her feet directly in front of each other, making her hips sway back and forth like a metronome. He crossed one angle over his knee and adjusted his tie. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and let it flare out.

She stood behind him and bent her knees, spreading her legs and putting her gloved hands on his chest. She rose up slowly, dragging the silk gloves up the fine material of his suit.

He pulled a cigar from an inside pocket, snipped off the tip, and put it in his mouth, completely ignoring her.

Leslie stalked around him, straddled his legs, and ran her hands down his face, dragging her nails through his perfectly trimmed beard. She bent over backwards, flashing whoever was in the audience a look down her top. The whistles made it clear that the opportunity hadn't been ignored.

But she was. He continue to ignore her, and was busy lighting his cigar when she curled back up to face him.

Leslie frowned and lifted her leg, moving it across his field of vision and giving him an unfettered view between her legs as she did. The crowd enjoyed it, but he never even glanced down. She put her foot down on the floor, leaned over and set her hands down between them, and straightened her legs, all but pushing her ass into his face.

He blew out a stream of smoke, shifted in his seat, but did not react to her in the slightest.

Hands on the floor, ass in the air, Leslie leaned back on her heels for just a second, then forward again, trapping the tips of her gloves under her shoes. She straightened slowly, curling her fingers against the glove to make sure they dragged slowly up her arms as her torso straightened. The crowd cheered, and Leslie flashed an excited smile, one that she hoped looked flirty and sexy. She glanced at the man in the chair behind her. He was checking under his nails for dirt.

She tossed her gloves at him. One of them hit his face and ended up hanging from the ends of his cigar. 

There was laughter from the crowd at that one.

And he looked at her. Just for a second, he caught her eye with the coldest glare, promising the most exquisite agony. Then he casually reached up, took the cigar out of his mouth, and tapped the ash, and the glove, off to the side. Once the glove hit the floor, the cigar was back in his mouth. And more cheers came from beyond the blind curtain of the spot light.

Leslie took a deep breath, or as deep as the corset would allow, and tried not to think about the look he'd given her. She spread her legs a bit, settling on the high heels and reaching up to unlace the skirt around her waist. She pulled the string slowly, feeling the fabric cascade away and reveal her garter belt and the tips of her stockings. He would call them knickers, which only sounded good with his accent.

But he wasn't looking at them. His eyes weren't sliding up her legs. He wasn't checking to see if she was really wearing panties. He didn't even look to see if those knickers were hooked to the garter belt in the first place. He just scratched the edge of his beard, blew out another blast of smoke, and flicked more ash off the end of his cigar.

Leslie held the remnants of cloth that had moments ago been her skirt out with one hand, gripping it with two dainty fingers and dropping them into a pile to loud whistles and complete and total disinterest from the man in the chair.

She turned her back on him while she unhooked her garter belt, sliding it along her skin. She bent down, showing him her ass as she unclipped the stockings. She dragged her finger nails along the nylons and stood back up. Still no reaction from him.

She turned to face him again and tried to catch his eyes. She started at the top, unhooking the clips of her corset one by one. She licked her lips to make them shine just a little bit as she reached the final clip. But he never looked up, not even when she cleared her throat. She turned her back on him, her hands holding the corset together.

She pulled one side of the corset open, almost exposing her breasts to the crowd. But she wasn't looking at them. She was looking over her shoulder, seeing if he would react.

He chewed his cigar.

She bent her knees and curved her back as she pulled the one side back where it belonged and the other side out to tease him. If he thought she was showing herself to the crowd, to strangers that she couldn't even see, maybe he would get jealous. Maybe he would react. Maybe he would acknowledge her.

But when she looked back at him, he had pulled out his cell phone. He was checking his e-mail.

She turned towards him and stomped her foot, more than a little frustrated. The crowd behind her was cheering and jeering, whistling and applauding. But he wasn't looking at her. He was ignoring her.

So she opened the corset all the way, flashing her breasts in his direction, in a clear, unobstructed view. She turned her head to the side, showing the crowd her profile, closing her eyes and holding there. Waiting. She opened one eye, and he was still looking at his phone.

She dropped the corset to the floor and ran her hands through her hair, wriggling her ass, rolling the muscles in her back, letting her breasts move back and forth for just him.

He glanced up, just for a second, and then turned back to his phone.

Leslie took a loud step towards him, swaying her hip to the side like a gunshot. Then another. After the third, she put her hands on his knees. She bent over and put her teeth around his phone. She pulled the phone up with her teeth, clearing it from his fingers. Her eyes smiled at his as she moved closer, running her hair up his torso before gently dropping his phone into his breast pocket.

So close that she could smell his sweat, barely enough room between them for his cigar smoke, she settled herself onto his lap again, her legs spread, her crotch pressed against the buckle of his belt.

He took the cigar from his mouth; it was the only way to avoid burning her with it. She caressed his chin and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. She slipped her tongue in deep and smiled at the groan she finally managed to pull out of him.

She took his tie in her hand and started to lean back, putting her feet up in the air, balancing herself against his tie. She dropped her head back, letting her hair trail over the floor, letting her breasts hang clear for the crowd to see.

She blew out the smoke from his cigar, smoke she had sucked out of his mouth. The crowd on the other side of the curtain of light went wild.

Under the cover of the applause, she leaned forward again, rolling back up until she had her forehead pressed against his.

“How was that?” she asked, looking him in the eyes.

He smiled. “Amazing,” he said. His London accent caressed her brain even through the applause. “Absolutely brilliant.”

She pushed herself to her feet and adjusted her grip on his tie. “I cannot believe you ignored me,” she said, pulling him carefully out of the chair.

“I thought that's what you wanted,” he said, his voice slightly less confident.

Leslie took a deep breath, feeling the shift in power. She rolled her hand around the tie, gripping the smaller strap and pulling, tightening it around his neck just a little bit.

“Doesn't mean you aren't going to pay,” she said, her smile getting dark.

He tried to swallow.

She started walking him off stage as the applause continued. She used the tie like a leash, casually dragging him behind her. Him still in the dark pinstripe suit, her in nothing but stockings, panties, and high heels.

But no doubt who was in charge.