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The air is still, moved only by the fabric of the loose robe I’m wearing. Its flimsy, almost see through, and as the music rises I let it drop, exposing my body to his eyes. The fire light flickers over my breasts, catches on my erect nipples, hardened by the knowledge of him watching me. They sway in time with my movements, rise and fall with my breathing. I know he is staring at them, at me, caressing me with my eyes, catching every movement, from the strands of my hair, down my torso, along my legs. They catch around the silk scarf I have wrapped around my waist, my only pretense at modesty. I know he wants me to drop it, but for now I just dance. The night sky is clear above, the stars shining down between the trees. Each one is like his eyes, watching me, starring, but the difference is in the heat in his gaze. I don’t know exactly where he is standing, hidden in the darkness, but I can feel the intensity. My sweat runs down between my breasts, and around my ass cheeks,. I had little trouble seeing what that cage was holding: people. I don’t know what possessed me, whether it was some remnant of the old philosophy of individual freedom or some carnal desire, but I was going to head down to the San Diego Trading Center for a visit. Looking back, I don’t know what my intentions were, because I went both with a sack of gold and a loaded gun. It was a two-day journey to the Trading Depot, even in my old truck, which I had converted to bio-fuel back when gasoline crossed the $7.00 per gallon mark. The scale of the depot was unimaginable. It was like a gigantic flea market with vendors selling anything and everything. Most of the transactions were through barter, this bode well for me, I had bought gold as an investment back in the old days, now it was invaluable. At the far side of the market was the most popular vendor. They had grown powerful through trading livestock, poultry, and labor. Where they picked up their merchandise, I don’t know. It was the.
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