Tokyo at dusk, a sordid theater in the gray of the city and suddenly, the lightning flash of a great lady of contemporary dance. Carlotta Ikeda is her name, she is a famous butoh dancer. I had the chance to attend one of her shows. I was fascinated by her strength, by the purity of her expressions. The white makeup, the black outfit. Everything spoke to my mind as to my senses. Her dance included the pain of the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This dance had something broken and jerky. I was moved and amazed, as if it revealed to me the hidden side of things, as if the negative came out the light. There was also a strangely erotic dimension, pieces of body appeared here and there under the torn costumes. No modesty, the message was drawn elsewhere. I was deeply troubled and marked by what I had attended that night.
I went back to see the show several nights in a row. Each time, I remained petrified, feeling in my body what was played on stage. The symptoms were always the same, eyes bulging, lips wet, jaws trembling, saliva poured down my throat, my fingers remained cold. It was those same cold fingers that I held out to Carlotta stuttering that I was a dancer, that I appreciated her work that upset me and that I wanted to work with her, it could not be otherwise.
She invited me to a nearby cafe. We both remained silent for long minutes. She was observing me with her dark and brilliant eyes, those eyes that pierce you and analyze you. The hot tea warmed our fingers. Hwe pupils were all dilated, they went from her cup to my face in incessant back and forth. Nothing was quiet or peaceful at home. We gauged each other like two wild animals that cross each other by chance. Her little chest went up and down rhythmically, she swelled under the thin fabric of her bodies. Carlotta was panting, quivering, and at the same time incredibly strong. She took my hand, her fingers were firm and terribly present. She pressed my flesh, the contact was pleasant. "Excuse me, but I'm emptied after a performance, I give everything and I need some time to find myself." Without makeup, her features were all drawn, she was older than me.
I lowered my eyes, I was very intimidated to find myself in front of this great lady. With silence, the discomfort settled. The noises around us were getting louder and louder. The clinking glasses, the cups and the teaspoons that were suddenly released in an infernal hubbub. I was really clumsy, I almost forgot why I came. This lady had to wonder who I was and what I wanted. I had the impression of being in the presence of a saint, there was like a halo of green neon above her face. I was sketching a smile, she could not understand. Sometimes there are meetings that are beyond words, it was the case...
One day Carlotta arrived at the apartment with a strange package. I do not know how she got it, but it was a strap-on. I had never seen one before. The belt was made of thick leather and of good quality, there were different belts to maintain it well. The object was already fascinating in itself and I do not even talk about the dildo. A beautiful protuberance, long and thick. She was soft to the touch and imitated perfectly a male sex much bigger than anything I had seen so far. It's weird as some objects attract caresses, an irrepressible need to touch. By touching it, one took the measure unconsciously. The material was nice, our fingers hugged on the object in a back and forth.
Yoko wanted to try it right away. She quickly got rid of her light dress, I think she wore nothing underneath. I helped her to fix the leather straps. The dildo was beautiful, he was tense and pointed his penis rigid. This new toy amused us, we uttered little cries of joy, we jumped on the mattress. Yoko was troubled and harnessed. She had something, she androgynous to the rubber phallus. I knew what was waiting for me. I put myself naked, I was already soaked with excitement. Yoko mimed a very male masturbation. On all fours on the bed, loins well arched, buttocks stretched, I was waiting for hell penetration. This slut made the pleasure last. I heard her laughing and mumbling behind me. I felt humiliated to be so open, offered.
She must have seen that in erotic films. Yoko tapped my buttocks with her dildo, as if to make me feel her power. She was walking the craft.
to be continued....
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