03-25-2020, 04:46 AM
(This post was last modified: 03-25-2020, 04:47 AM by Meera Alam.)
“Places, places, boys! You know I will not suffer anything less than perfection!” Meera bellowed as she thrust an arm up into the air with a flourish; a gesture reminiscent of the old French hags that lived out their days as ballet instructors.
Twenty-five young men – well-muscled and full-bodied, young men – were assembled around Meera, each wearing nothing more than a leather speedo, multi-colored mohawk, and a collective fifty pounds of body glitter. Despite her initial misgivings at the plan, it was quite the sight to behold. The wheelchair meant nothing, she was more than capable of physical love, and that fact was never more apparent than now. A crescendo of hormones seemed to swell in her nether regions. It was all just a little too much to bear. Blood rushed to her ebon-skinned cheeks and she pulled out a hand fan, unironically cooling herself in the moment.
The music was already playing on stage and Aiden had launched into his personal rendition of Lady GaGa’s Stupid Love. Giggles and grunts sounded around Meera as the men got into position. They each struck a dramatic pose and held their breath as she wheeled herself to the back and off to stage right. She came to a halt just past the velvet curtains and raised her arm once more.
“Ready boys!? Three, two…”
Aiden finished the first chorus of the song and the thin, red curtain that separated the two halves of the stage was pulled back. The twenty-five bulging boys launched into their dance as Aiden moved into the next verse of the song; women and men alike in the crowd seemed to cheer all the louder at the tawdry back up dancers. Meera’s lips curved up into a cat-like smile.
“Excellent work, my boys,” she said to herself as she tapped a finger to the beat of the song.
Twenty-five young men – well-muscled and full-bodied, young men – were assembled around Meera, each wearing nothing more than a leather speedo, multi-colored mohawk, and a collective fifty pounds of body glitter. Despite her initial misgivings at the plan, it was quite the sight to behold. The wheelchair meant nothing, she was more than capable of physical love, and that fact was never more apparent than now. A crescendo of hormones seemed to swell in her nether regions. It was all just a little too much to bear. Blood rushed to her ebon-skinned cheeks and she pulled out a hand fan, unironically cooling herself in the moment.
The music was already playing on stage and Aiden had launched into his personal rendition of Lady GaGa’s Stupid Love. Giggles and grunts sounded around Meera as the men got into position. They each struck a dramatic pose and held their breath as she wheeled herself to the back and off to stage right. She came to a halt just past the velvet curtains and raised her arm once more.
“Ready boys!? Three, two…”
Aiden finished the first chorus of the song and the thin, red curtain that separated the two halves of the stage was pulled back. The twenty-five bulging boys launched into their dance as Aiden moved into the next verse of the song; women and men alike in the crowd seemed to cheer all the louder at the tawdry back up dancers. Meera’s lips curved up into a cat-like smile.
“Excellent work, my boys,” she said to herself as she tapped a finger to the beat of the song.
"She had tortured hundreds, maybe thousands, in the name of understanding and reason. Torture made sense. You truly saw what a person was made of, in more ways than one, when you began to slice into them. That was a phrase she'd used on numerous occasions. It usually made her smile."
- The Wheel of Time, The Gathering Storm, Chapter 22, Robert Jordan