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This cloth extends down her neck and covers an ample pair of breast that would be almost spilling out of the gown.I find myself unable to not move towards her. She gracefully dances around me as I am enthralled by the curves her dress enhances. After circling me a few times, the dancer stops in front of me. I reach out my hand and place it in hers as my other hand slides around her small waist. The music surges as we begin to waltz around the room. We move as if we are one person. Every step is perfectly placed. Every turn is executed to perfection. As we twirl and an ever increasing speed and the music's volume increased, I feel her pulling me closer and closer. Our bodies press together with an increasing force, yet there is no pain. Only pleasure.It is then that I awaken. Most of the times, I will need to clean my sheets. All of the times I feel exhausted.As the weeks have passed, I find the dream occupying my thoughts more and more. On my way home from work, I spot a dance hall. It was at precisely the height to grab me by the crotch as I walked forward, and it was like being shot out of a cannon. The rail was still hot, as I learned to my dismay when I tried to lean forward like I was riding a bike. Too hot to hold for long, even with gloves. But the angle of momentum was so perfect, I didn't really need the extra balance. I traveled most of the way in a glorious X pose.That said, the sensation of 60 mile an hour wind on a bare stomach isn't one I'd recommend. Even warm air feles cold at that speed, and kind of abrasive. The rail ride was only about four minutes long, briefly shooting out across the mountaintops I'd seen in room zero – a little glimpse of a beautifully rendered world – but by the end of it every inch of exposed skin on my front side was just a little sore.At the end of the ride, the rail ended but I kept going. It slammed me into a wall that had the texture of metal but felt like it was made of elastic, absorbing the impact with a comical.
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