After a year the instructor took I
and another advanced student to a restaurant/night club serving Middle Eastern
food with belly dancing in San Francisco. My costume by then was detailed from
heavy eye makeup to gold jeweled headpiece and transparent silk veil which
added to the allure of neck head slides. We were introduced as novices and danced
with no audience money offerings permitted, innocents among professionals.
The instructor had me perform second.
Shimming among the subdued lighted crowd I danced through the tables until
before one seating powerful looking men, got their attention with neck head
slides, made indifferent eye contact with a good looking, well-dressed man,
roped him around the neck with my scarf and led him back to the stage behind my
Sitting him on a little stage chair
I began with hip lifts and drops. To the music, I advanced to neck and head
slides, shoulder, then breasts, then hip shimming, body twists, circles, figure
8's to finally twisting undulations while leaning back on the floor, my torso’s
buttocks supported by my feet heels, my knees spread apart, indifferent eye
contact maintained before his mesmerized attention and pants swelled erection.
I went through each progressive body part movement, until completing the dance's final floor movements as a spasm of sexual exhaustion swept me. His fixation caused a sense of sexual empowerment never possessed until then. As my instructor led him back, limping, to his table, I arose from the floor, exhausted both physically and sexually. Standing, catching my breath, I gave my veiled bow to an ebullient ovation.
At home, still in costume, sans head
piece and veil, hubby picked me up, took me to bed for his fast and furious while
I climaxed thinking of the man's mesmerized gaze before my gyrations and his
pants stressed erection. Afterwards he attempted to contact me through the
instructor but she was experienced and ensured he never did. I didn’t want to
meet him. I wanted him to remain a San Francisco fantasy, but his seeking me
boosted my self-esteem.
Belly dancing is time consuming. One needs to keep practicing to ensure
flexibility and muscle conditioning to avoid injury. While sexually empowering
my class attendance tapered off after my night club performance until ceasing because
of going to work. Hubby was disappointed the costume moved to the back of the
closet and eventually to a garage trunk.
Belly dancing, however, changed my self-image to
someone attractive, a fundamental change from being man shy to seeking their
notice. I became a flirt, thriving for confirmation I was not a long necked ugly
duckling but a Liz Taylor Cleopatra.
Flirting was a game of glances, smiles, banter, innuendos and crass suggestions seeking a man's overt move and then hiding behind the safety of marriage to decline. Each overt male move provided confidence while honing my flirting skill. I continued to wear dark eye makeup, kept the nick name Cobra and often darted my tongue out when flirting.