casper

I like it when Anonymous proves my point.





I shot these pics of myself a couple days ago, it's amazing the things that one can accomplish during nap time!







Bigger sized ones can be found on my Tumblr.



The Shy Guy came in on Friday of last week, which was incredibly unusual for him; his anxiety always became obvious once more than a dozen people filled the building. He told me he didnt like crowds, this was obvious. And he always requested the bigger, more private of dance rooms. This time, he was drunk early. The previous visit, he had whipped out his cell phone, showing me pictures of his one year old daughter. A beautiful creature, cherubic cheeks, dark eyes and curled dark hair. I wondered what her mother, his wife, looked like. I also wondered how much longer he would be a viable customer; he was getting too comfortable too fast. I set my mental timer on him.

This time, Friday, I didn't waste any of the rotation, and before I could even hint, he asked, Do you want to go in there?" Motioning to the bigger, private room. "of course!" and I smiled pleasantly but didn't bother hiding my honest relief at getting his money sooner rather than later.

I danced for him, perhaps three or four songs, nothing atypical about that. I cant recall how it started, but he was talking at the end of it, as I seated across from him, leaning in with fake interest. "yeah, I just feel so comfortable. I was doing some research.. and I, I dont know how it works, so youll have to tell me. I was doing some researchyou know when youre in a river, and theres a waterfall, and youre getting closer and closer to it, and you tell, that youre going to go over"

"Um, okay."

"Is it ever.does it ever happen that you can't control yourself once you go over the edge?"

He couldnt possibly be serious. "I dont understand what youre saying, just tell me."

"Do you guys.Do dancers ever. I heard that if you don't go over the edge, girls will get offended."

What. "Get offended by what? Im sorry, Im just not understanding." I really just wanted to hear him say it. And also, I wasn't sure if I was inferring correctly.

He tried again. "I read that some dancers get offended if a guy doesn'torgasmduring a dance."

WUT.

I tried not to laugh, and smiled with a bit of bemusement. "Where did you read this?"

Imagine, trying to explain to an adult male, that it is perfectly accepted, and encouraged that men not ejaculate in their pants. I did try.

"I think the general consensus is, that theres never really an appropriate time for a man to ejaculate in his pants."

I looked down at his hands in his lap, twisting and fiddling. For someone who never even got hard during a dance, no wonder he was worried if I was offended.

"Okay. I was just researching you know, because Im new to this." Still having not paid me, I was antsy enough to get back on the floor and away from his awkwardness, until he spoke again.

"You know, the first time I put my penis in a vagina, the girl was five."

I didn't say anything. But could feel my face remaining still and my mind spinning at warp speed.

"I was five too." He said, and then gently jabbed me, "It's a joke, get it?"

"Oh, okay." I said stiffly, intentionally with extra dryness in my voice.

"I really got you, huh! Huh!"

I took a sigh, yes. You did. You fucking weirdo. Unable to humor this behavior any more, I leaned forward to collect my wadded up money from the previous stage set, not bothering to hide it from his sight, as I usually do with all customers.

"I had a threesome when I was eight."

I sat back down. And continued staring at him, poker faced.

His excitement was obvious, as he kept babbling, his eyes darting back in his mind and memory.

"Yeah, it was at church camp. I was eight, and the boy was eight, and the girl was probably eight too. We were in a room together, and we had her lay on a table and take her pants off. Then the boy left the room, and I did stuff to her, and then I left the room and he didI don't know what he did. But we traded. So it's kind of like a threesome."

"I hope the little girl was okay with it."

"Oh yeah, she was." Not pausing for a second.

I was standing now, not making eye contact. "Well, that's quite a story."

He snapped out of his excited trance and dug in to his wallet for the twenties. I felt like it was hostage money. "You know, I thought that if I married a nice Catholic girl, because my wife is practicing, but I'm not really anyway, I thought I could train her, but I guess that didnt work out, so now we are getting a divorce. I'm so over it."

My brain screamed a variety of insults, and I nodded soberly, "That's quite a shame. Now, let's get back out here, shall we?"

He didnt come in Sunday. I can't say that I cared.


Love,

Casper-Elle




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