Raven hair, long and thick and black as night. It swirls as you spin, your fiery dress of orange and red barely covering your tan, lithe body. The flames lick at your legs, dance in time around your feet, merging then separating from your clothing as if they are two parts of the same fabric. Your eyes burn like dark coals of black and red, your lips hold a sneer that pulls me closer even as it stabs at me.
“Come into the fire,” you call in my mind. “Come dance with me, you know you want to.” She spins quickly, the tails of her dress flying out and away like sparks shooting into the sky, bright flashes of heat and intensity. The flash of her long legs, dark and sinuous like cords of wood, and yet seeming so delicate as she moves softly from one to the other, do not give heat but draw it from you, igniting passions and desires in long forgotten places.
You take a step closer, and in response the fire blazes, singing your skin with its force, holding you back with its ferocity, and still she calls. “Dance with me, lover,” she coos now in your mind, imaginary fingers sliding along the length of your spine. “Touch me,” and there is a warmth on your chest as if her hands already caress your bare skin. Every word drips with the drug desire; each whisper injects more into your veins.
The fire she lit inside you is growing; the heat is flowing through you, your blood like gasoline on the flames. She bends down as she twists and turns to music only she can hear over the roar of the flames, the curve of her breasts is evident through the tight dress, and her movements seem half challenge half plea to place your hands upon her.
You step closer again, the flame within you rivaling the inferno that surrounds her. It blazes further, turning white and blue from the immense heat that it is sending out. Her dress too is white and blue, shining like diamonds, like the sun itself. The brightness of her dress only accentuates her body, the darkness of her skin, the black of her hair, the burning in her eyes.
You bring your hands up, not for protection from this flame that has already burned away your clothes, and is even now searing your flesh, but to reach out to her. You continue forward even as the flames envelop your hands and arms. There is no pain, only numbness and shock as the flames eat away your nerves, burn and blister your body, strip away your skin and blacken muscle and bone.
Still she smiles at you, still she calls you to her, moving and dancing, her eyes never leaving yours as her body seduces and draws you closer. Her smile is one of satisfaction now, and her eyes are portals to the depths of hell itself, and she watches you come closer and closer, until your body gives out, your bones cracking from the heat, and you fall to the floor. Still you push forward, crawling toward her, needing to touch her, needing to feel her. The fire consumes you, skin, muscle, flesh and bone. All that remains is a pile of ash, until even that is burned away and there is nothing left. Only a flame and a dancer.
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