Dances of Love

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Brother Sister

Author’s note: This is my first Literotica submission, and welcome feedback. This is intended to be the start of a greater series of stories, so as I post more, please do read my other works as well.


After ages of yearning for each other, with so much burning desire, we’ve finally had our first night together as new lovers. As agreed, after a memorable moment of waking up together and a passionate morning of lovemaking, showering, and dressing, we had a sensual breakfast, then returned to our separate lives.

But life is now different. Even more vibrant than before. Daily life has a new tinge to it, a contrast that wasn’t there previously. For each of us, we feel like a changed person. There’s a new feeling of health, an awakening in the heart that is unique to a newfound love. Everything around each of us looks a little different and has a new perspective. Daily routines don’t seem as mundane. What we have is exciting. Beautiful. And it spills out around us, changing our perception of life, as well as affecting those around us. People around us that know each of us well can tell there is something different with us, but don’t know what. Our secret continues.

We agree to meet again soon. And as we talk, we pick a Saturday that works for both of us. I decide that this one is going to be a surprise for you. I tell you there will be a ticket waiting for you at the airport, and you don’t have to bring a single thing. I only want you to do your beautiful auburn hair for me, leaving it long and straight with slight waves, as I like it. You eagerly await the day, excited with an anticipation of us seeing each other, unable to focus on daily life as the time approaches. On the particular day, you drive to the airport at the time I instructed, leave your car in the daily lot, and walk to the check-in counter. You’re nervously excited about the unknown. Where in the world will you be going? What meets you there?

As you approach the counter, you see a long line, and your heart sinks slightly. You join the end of the queue, and pull out your phone to pass the time. However, a uniformed male attendant walks up to you and asks, “Excuse me madam, are you Alexandra?” You nod in surprise, and he motions to an empty counter on the end. “We’ve been expecting you. Right this way please.” You approach the counter, and a nice older lady greets you with a warm smile, asking for identification. You show her your driver’s license, and she gives you a ticket. You just have to know where you’re going, and look at the ticket in your hand. San Francisco. You’re going to San Francisco? The agent says, “We have you in first class, seat 2A, and your flight will be boarding in 30 minutes at gate C3. Do you have any bags to check today?” You shake your head no, and she wishes you a very good day. Did she give you a wink? What was that?

You go through security, breezing straight through the priority line, and quickly arrive at your gate, passing time by checking messages on your phone and idly playing a game. You’re one of the first to board, and settle into your nice seat at the front of the plane. As everyone else boards, the premium flight attendant greets you by name and without asking, sets a whiskey on the rocks on your armrest, then hands you a small envelope embossed with an “A”. You open it with surprise to see a small card inside. “I’m looking forward to a wonderful day together. – Me”. She then hands you a single red rose, blowing your mind, smiles, and says, “I don’t know what you have in store today, but something tells me you’re a very lucky girl and I should be jealous. Please let me know if I can get you anything at all during your flight.”

Just then, your phone buzzes. You pick it up, and see a message from me. “Soon, Ally. Soon.” You furiously reply back, “What in the world? How did you do this?” You receive a single reply.


Your flight departs quickly, and you settle in for the trip, relaxing and resting. The drink hits the spot, and puts you at ease. The aircraft accelerates down the runway, rumbling as it picks up speed, then rotates and lifts off. As it does so, the cabin begins to pressurize, ever so slightly fatiguing you. The gentle vibrations and hums of the engines are a little hypnotic. You drift off into a peaceful slumber, wakening later to the small jolt in the aircraft as the flaps extend and the gear comes down for landing. You raise the window shade next to you, looking with interest out on the world into which you’re arriving. This new place looks a little surreal as you see it from a half mile above the earth. You’re a voyeur, remotely observing millions of people going about their lives, embroiled in commerce and leisure. You’re watching an entire city laid out below you. There… that’s the Golden Gate Bridge! You smile, pick up the rose, and raise it to your nose, inhaling and smelling its sweet scent, feeling its soft petals graze your face. Then you turn and again look out the window in wonder, idly twisting the rose stem in your hand.

The jet lands, and you brace yourself for the deceleration as the aircraft slows bayan arkadaş to a stop, then take your phone out of airplane mode to anxiously check for messages. After a few seconds, your phone comes alive with mail and notifications from the past few hours, and you eagerly scroll through, looking for something from me, but don’t see anything. As you get off the plane, the same stewardess wishes you a very good day, giving you a sweet smile. You see in her eyes a faint look of pain and longing, as if she wants what you have, something missing from her own personal life. One of the pilots stands at the cockpit door, thanking you for flying with them. You look at him, and your thoughts turn to me. Your own pilot. You half expect me to come out of the cockpit, with this surprise trip.

You get off the plane and the confusion returns. Where the heck are you supposed to go? You check your phone. Nothing. Not knowing what else to do, you follow the crowd to baggage claim. As you exit security, there’s some people grouped behind a chromed bar railing, waiting for arriving passengers. A few people stand in moderate boredom, holding signs with names on them, and there’s a family with balloons and a banner saying “Welcome home, Brad!” One smaller gentleman wearing a dark suit and valet cap is holding a sign that simply says “Alexandra.” You turn towards him, and he looks at you with recognition. “Welcome to San Francisco, miss! I’m Peter. Come with me, please.” How do these people know who you are? You follow him through the outside doors, and as you exit the terminal, you are hit with the strange new feel of a different place and its climate. Warm. Humid. There’s new smells, unfamiliar sounds. Different air pressure. It adds to the excitement.

Peter leads you to a small black limo at the curb, opens the door, and holds it for you. You thank him, duck your head, and sit down, smelling the rich leather inside. The limo is empty, except another small embossed notecard envelope and single red rose sitting in the seat next to you. You open the envelope. This card says “Closer now. Very soon, Ally.” You pick up your phone and message me. “You’re so sweet. What now?” After a few seconds you receive another single reply.


Peter sits in the front, and as he starts the engine you ask him, “Where am I going?” He smiles very friendly at you in the rearview mirror and answers, “I’m very sorry, miss. I’m not allowed to tell you that, but please relax and I will have you there very shortly. Can I get you anything?” You politely decline, and he again assures you that you’ll be to your destination very quickly. Sure enough, after a short drive away from the airport and into the city, you slow and turn into downtown streets. You look out the window as you drive, watching the scenery and taking in the sights of the new location. You become aware that people on the street are gazing at your limo as you drive past, taking notice of the novelty that passes them in their routine lives. Peter slows and stops the limo in a large alley, pulling up to a small nondescript black metal door to a large white building that seems to be connected to others stretching down the block. He gets out and opens the door for you, offering his hand. You take it and Peter professionally helps you out of the limo, then knocks on the door.

The door opens, and an impeccably dressed tall gentleman in black pinstriped three piece evening suit and dark goatee greets you by name, welcoming you inside. You turn and thank Peter, feeling suddenly obligated and reach into your purse for your wallet. Peter quickly stops you with a gentle touch on your forearm and says, “That’s not needed miss. Everything has been taken care of. Have a wonderful time.” He squeezes your hand and turns back to the limo. You turn and follow the gentleman inside and ask where you are. He replies “We are a private club, madam. There is no name, but anything you could want is available to you. You only have to ask.” Being a woman all alone, you feel slightly uneasy being by yourself in this strange place, but take comfort in the thought that I would never put you in an unsafe situation. Even now, you are being protected and cared for. The gentleman takes you down a plain dark hallway lined with thick tapestries, reaches a door, and motions you inside. You’re a little skittish, but walk into a small dressing room, with high end finishings and decor. Brass. Beautiful, opulent marble. Plush leather. Oak wood. Red velvet. On a lone chair in the middle of the room is a medium-sized white box with a rich gold ribbon and bow, another embossed notecard, and a third single rose. Your escort tells you the room is yours for the day, and shuts the heavy door behind him as he leaves, with a slight respectful bow of his head. You lock the ornate brass door bolt. You’re alone. You pick up the card, and it reads, “Now, Ally. This is all for you, my love. Become mine for the day.”

Your curiosity can’t take any more and you pull the heavy ribbon off the box and open it. Inside are beautiful, delicate garments. You touch them bayan partner admiringly, feeling the fine quality and material, and gently pull out a vibrant blue satin evening gown. You lift it up in front of you, looking at the gown adoringly, then hold it to your body and turn to the mirror, seeing the fit and how it would look on you. It seems simultaneously both elegant and scandalous. You look back to the box, noticing more, and carefully set the dress aside. You pick up matching long gloves, feel the luxurious material, and set them aside as well. Then you notice delicate tissue paper packages underneath, and unwrap them to see a set of matching black lace bra and panties, delicate and feminine. You take out black strapped shoes. Then there’s one last thing lying in the bottom of the box-a thin black choker necklace. You smile. This is definitely from me. You are suddenly hit with the realization that this is how I see you-as a beautiful woman, to be treasured and cherished. Adorned. That touches you, something you’re not used to. You again message me. “I got it. Where are you?” Seconds pass.


You undress, excited, then start with the bra and panties. They have that wonderful feel of brand new garments on your skin. Sensual. You look in the mirror, and for a moment see yourself through my eyes, not yours. Knowing that I would want to see you like this, your body undressed down to special lingerie just for me. You feel sexy. Desired. And I’m not even there. You trace your fingertips along the waistband of your panties and the soft skin of your abdomen. Then feel the way the new bra cups and supports your lovely breasts, delicately running your fingers along the trim edges. The tips of your fingers slide into your panty waistband and for a moment, you consider pleasuring yourself, as you feel incredibly sexy, but you decide to wait for me. You step into the dress, loving the feel of the fine material as it drags up your skin, and put your arms through the wide shoulder straps. The dress is cut low, with extra material draped at the bust. Your fair breasts are pushed up, showing ample, juicy cleavage. You tilt your head as you look in the mirror, admiring the fine fit to your body, smoothing the gown down your stomach and hips with the palm of your hands, enjoying your own touch. You zip yourself up in the back as much as you can. Slip on the shoes. With a novel pleasure, you put on the choker necklace, fitting it to your neck, feeling the way it holds you with just a hint of a connotation of belonging. Then you notice a second box with a bow on the counter. This one is identical, but jewelry sized. You open it, to find small silver earrings, each with a beautiful, single yellow stone, and just a tiny bit of dangly silver metal. Obligingly, you put them on, enjoying the feel of the cool metal on your ears.

On the counter next to the vanity mirror is a selection of makeup, lipstick, and perfumes for your choosing. You look them over, sample the perfumes, but then decide to stick with what you brought along in your purse. You touch yourself up, reapply your lipstick, purse your lips, and look at your reflection in the mirror. With a smirk, you apply a dab of perfume in your cleavage, and smile mischievously at yourself. You put on the final touch, the blue gloves, loving the way they feel and come up over your forearms. You feel so pretty. Sexy. Special. Like a queen-a queen dressed for her king.

You put your things in a drawer under the counter, take a deep breath, then unlock and open the door. The same finely dressed gentleman is standing in the hallway, patiently waiting. Although a large, aggressive-looking man, he smiles warmly at you, and still remains completely professional. “You look exceptionally lovely, madam. Would you follow me, please?” You follow him down a continuation of the same dark, plain hallway, taking a left turn. As you walk, you start to hear echoes of slow, softly soothing music. Some murmurs of people talking. You reach the end of the hallway where there is a dark, heavy, crimson red curtain, which he draws for you and holds to the side. “Have a lovely evening, madam. Again, just signal me at any moment tonight, and you’ll have anything you desire.”

You pass through the curtain, now hearing the music and people directly, and walk into a dimly lit night club. You are immediately struck with the ambience as being elegant and sophisticated. The decor is a continuation of your dressing room, with liberal use of patterned marble, dark wood, brass, and plush velvet. Small, round private tables and booths surround a modest dance floor in front of a stage with a small jazz ensemble. A few well-dressed couples sit at the tables, either listening to the music or talking to each other. Several are holding hands and touching one other. At one table near you sits a man and two beautiful ladies, one blonde, one brunette, the ladies softly kissing each other. You immediately get turned on, heightening your already burning excitement. Your heart is beating fast in trepidation, yet the soft soothing jazz calms your soul bdsm escort like a drug, the music deep, smooth, undulating, slowly gyrating.

This could be a modern version of a prohibition era night club from the Roaring Twenties, and even some of the decor and the patrons’ attire reminds you of just that. A cocktail waitress walks on the left side of the room, carrying a small tray with one upturned hand, with what must be a martini with olives. She’s dolled up in a short, tight fitting cream-colored “flapper” dress with rings of tassel fringe, short hair slicked to her head with curls. Although a bit self-conscious of being alone for the moment in a new room, you feel right at place with this elegant establishment and your own new attire. Your eyes continue to scan the room and you see me.

There I am. I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor, currently the only one there, looking intently at you, holding a single red rose. I’m dressed in a dark single breasted suit, plush deep red tie on white oxford shirt, with a paisley patterned pocket square casually peeking from the suit pocket. I smile, extend my arm to you, hand open in invitation, and you saunter to me. You’re suddenly flustered and out of words. I take you by your shoulders and gently kiss you. It’s electric to you, and your heart melts as we’re together again. It’s so wonderful. Your soft lips part and you accept my gesture, kissing me back, feeling the love between us and returning it in full measure. Your hands come up to my lower back to embrace me as well. We don’t say anything, speaking to each other in the kiss, expressing to each other without words that we’ve missed each other and care about each other so much. You struggle for words. Nothing quite seems right, and you stammer, “I love you… Umm…”

“Zip me up?”

I smile at you, and gently turn you around. I slowly zip your dress up the rest of the way in the back, and hold you by your upper arms. You’re slightly trembling, feeling me behind you, my presence thawing your heart and soul. You feel my face come down by your right ear, my breath on your cheek, and you can smell my cologne, exciting you. I softly say, “I love you too”, and turn you back around to face me. I look at you, then scan down and gaze at your body, making no attempt to hide my obvious examination, wanting you to watch me ogle you, the next step of my mastery over you. I stare straight down at your lovely breasts, showing that alluring cleavage. You watch me look at you, panning back up and into your eyes, knowing I like what I see. Knowing that looking at you pleases me. We smile at each other. I say, “You look perfect, my love. Exactly the way I wanted you to look.” I take the rose, break off and discard most of the stem, and then put the flower through my suit jacket lapel, wearing it for you. We step to each other, and I take you in my arms, my left hand taking your gloved right hand and extending it to our side. My right arm wraps around your waist, my hand on the small of your back. Your left hand innately comes up to rest on my shoulder now. We fit into each other naturally, like two broken pieces of pottery that have been reunited, once again becoming whole, every part fitting into the other. I pull you into me with my hand on your back, strong and confident, but gentle.

We stay like that for a second, then we start to move. I lead us, and from the very first motion, we step together, moving as one. Dancing as partners. Lovers. I move laterally, and your right foot steps to the side.


I pull gently, and your left foot steps forward with my right as we move and turn.


Our bodies move against each other. Rubbing. Touching. Swaying. It’s like making love on the dance floor, and it’s fucking erotic, our cheeks brushing each other the same way they did the last time I was inside of you. You feel warm inside, your pussy getting wet. Your breath deepens, your body preparing itself as if you were having sex. The soft music is soothing and enticing, the saxophonist gently working through an improvised melody.

You marvel to yourself. How is this possible? Nobody has ever taken you dancing before, but we move together as if we’ve been old partners for years. How did you get to this point—who is this man in your arms, and why do you feel so much for him? How does this fit in your life? What in the world are you doing here, all the way across the country in strange clothing, this strange place? Your heart aches, a million things running through your mind.

I feel your body begin to tense in my arms, and I smile, sensing and recognizing the turmoil beginning in you. I slow us to a stop, release your right hand, and tilt your head up to me. I don’t say anything, but look fixedly into your eyes. You look at me quietly, gazing into my hazel eyes, and things start to fade away. Doubts. Uncertainty. Your heart eases, mind clears. I kiss you again. Lovingly. Passionately. As a woman should truly be kissed by the man that loves her. Time stops. A burning ignites in your sex, and your body just melts in my arms as every muscle relaxes. I hold you tightly to keep you upright, then release the kiss, look at you again, and grin. You smile, breathing heavily, and decide to just go with it. This is so wonderful and perfect. I smile back, seeing your surrender, take your hand with mine again, and resume our dance.

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