Phoenyx: Flesh & Fire by Morgana Blackrose Page A

drew myself towards her, trying to ignore the sharp whistles and craning necks which greeted my arrival. I was being stared at by several hundred strangers. I had never been in front of so many people in all my life.
    Just like we rehearsed, and you’ll be fine , Olivia had said to me beforehand.
    What exactly had we rehearsed? I couldn’t remember any of it. I tried to, but I could only bring to mind her and me in the changing room earlier, groping each other and her hand between my legs and her tongue inside my mouth.
    So I went with that. The urge to recreate those wonderful feelings of abandonment drove me towards her as she went gliding like a swan in front of me. I decided to ignore everything beyond the stage, and concentrate solely on her .
    I looked down at her, lying spread so elegantly at my feet, looking up at me with huge pleading brown eyes. She swept her hair back from her forehead and I stomped around to stand behind her. She craned her neck to look back up at me, and then I squatted down, her head between my knees. I bent over and kissed her on the mouth. Her hand came up and pulled my red waves aside.
    “Do it,” I heard her say, and then I took a handful of that hair and pulled. She went with it, her head sliding back up and onto my thigh. I straddled her and lowered myself down gently onto her heaving belly. I dragged her head up by the hair and our mouths met again; our tongues too, this time.
    Her hands felt inside my thighs, fingers tracing the muscles all the way into my groin. I slipped a finger inside her gown and flicked open the lace which held it together. I felt her tremble as the soft satin parted, allowing her rounded cleavage to surge up into view. I heard applause somewhere distant – someone liked that. Good, I thought. If I could keep them entertained as I revealed Olivia’s glorious body bit by bit, then they wouldn’t have any reason to boo me off.
    So I worked on that. If I went astray, Olivia would surely do something to save us from being a total disaster, and I would take away valuable lessons for next time. Next time ?
    Why not? I was starting to enjoy all of this. Just a little, but seeing Olivia’s pale flesh uncover gradually before me was slowly replacing my fear with desire. I eased her gown down to her waist, dragged it past her hips. She twisted around on to her belly while I was loosening her from the rest of the satin. She kicked her heels back and I glimpsed the dress go flying off somewhere towards the band behind us. Mack the trumpeter had to dodge to avoid it landing over his head.
    Then I had her hair in my hand again, pulling her back so that she arched beneath me, spine pulling in an almost impossible curve until it must have looked as though she was about to snap herself in two. And as I held her there, she eased open the front of her bra and threw the white lace aside, pouring her lovely breasts out into view to hang suspended, quivering.
    The audience roared, and I risked a sideways glance towards them. They were staring – at Olivia, of course. But also at me , for I was the one undressing the object of their desire – and what I did mattered. And if a few of them bothered to look my way in the process, then I’d take that as a compliment.
    Olivia stretched a long gloved arm up behind and I caught the tip of one finger in my teeth. I nibbled on that warm soft satin and held it tight, waiting for her to pull. She did so, and I repeated the action for the other fingers until the glove was halfway off. Then I clutched the floppy fingers and whipped it away and up into the air, leaving her long slim arm bare. It wasn’t quite Rita Hayworth in Gilda but it was still quite erotic.
    She twisted around to lie beneath me, looking up at my tight velvet crotch as I squatted over her. I flicked open the studs on my top and dropped it, letting my breasts fall out as I ground my hips down and slid my tingling undercarriage along the centre line of her sinuous