the elegant metallic visitors?
The two sides, the brutes and astronauts, engaged in a violent, wild dance. Music throbbed. Color exploded all around. Grant took more notes. Mechanical color scrollers, good. Dance boom light levels, too low. Overhead shutter, pulled in too far.
The dance grew even more frenzied. The giants roughly stripped the protective armor from the astronauts. But it wasn’t war. It was seduction. The astronauts were women, now nearly naked. The club patrons collectively drew in a stunned breath.
The brutes and women paired off. Some willingly, some not. They engaged in fierce, stylized couplings. Crazy artificial lightning effects, created by media and the gobos, strobed the stage. Electricity sizzled. Drums thumped.
The dance, the stagecraft, the music, evoked sex and fury.
The spectacle was beautiful.
The illumination changed, slowly. The light irised in on one silver-armored astronaut, whole and proud. She stood in the center of the stage. Her costumed body was brilliant, otherworldly. A huge, half-naked brute surged toward her with his stick. Suddenly the stage lights dimmed to darkness. Blackout. The house lights came up. It was intermission.
The audience sighed.
A cocktail waitress in a skintight black leather dominatrix costume slithered toward his table. “Would you like something to drink, Sir?”
The waitress was a sweet little thing with rosebud lips and wide blue eyes. Her youth and eagerness didn’t jive with her fetishwear.
“Thanks. I’ll take a scotch. Neat.”
He nursed his scotch during the rest of the intermission, reviewing his notes. On the whole, it was going well. He hoped the owner of the Vault would be as happy.
The house lights dimmed again.
The armored astronaut, so striking in silver, stood with the half-naked giant in a pool of light. She was fearless. Suddenly, with an eruption of sound and radiance, she ran from him. The brute followed.
Grant studied the drama, scribbling notes without taking his eyes off the stage. The lighting design for the chase sequence was crazy, complex and audacious. And flawed. Damn.
The savage caught the silver-hued invader at her waist. He tore off her protection, leaving her bare. Only the flimsiest silver threads covered her body. The audience stopped breathing for a moment. Light showered onto the couple. The music pumped, violent and arousing. The nearly naked astronaut writhed in the man’s massive arms. An extraordinary dancer, she emoted such distress. Her voluptuous body was a wonder. Soft, bouncing breasts. Luscious womanly hips. The giant stood still, impossibly tall and muscular, cruelly imprisoning her with his bulk.
The audience panted with anticipation. Would she submit to him? Would they consummate? Would the resulting lightnings singe them all?
Grant stopped taking notes, mesmerized by the captive’s movements. He was close enough to see her expression of anguish, the texture of her skin. He even spotted a tiny tattoo on her lush, rounded ass. An angel? A fairy?
She swung around the unmoving giant’s body as if the man were a stripper pole. It was an amazing sight. Finally, holding on to her captor’s thick arms, she arched back, her glorious body open to him. Her expression was now one of utter rapture. The brute jerked her body up, slamming her into his huge chest. The drum rhythm beat in time to their undulating bodies. Lightning bolts spit and hissed around them.
It was a long, long climax.
Then came the finale. The rest of the cast swirled out onto the stage, joining the new couple in a joyous dance. It was a celebration of the union between man and woman.
The afterglow choreography was complex, but the stagecraft—Grant’s responsibility—was simple.
Grant returned to observe the show several more times, sitting alone at the same table, taking notes, to fine-tune the tech. He paid special attention to the enthralling creature in shreds of silver. What kind of girl was she underneath that
The two sides, the brutes and astronauts, engaged in a violent, wild dance. Music throbbed. Color exploded all around. Grant took more notes. Mechanical color scrollers, good. Dance boom light levels, too low. Overhead shutter, pulled in too far.
The dance grew even more frenzied. The giants roughly stripped the protective armor from the astronauts. But it wasn’t war. It was seduction. The astronauts were women, now nearly naked. The club patrons collectively drew in a stunned breath.
The brutes and women paired off. Some willingly, some not. They engaged in fierce, stylized couplings. Crazy artificial lightning effects, created by media and the gobos, strobed the stage. Electricity sizzled. Drums thumped.
The dance, the stagecraft, the music, evoked sex and fury.
The spectacle was beautiful.
The illumination changed, slowly. The light irised in on one silver-armored astronaut, whole and proud. She stood in the center of the stage. Her costumed body was brilliant, otherworldly. A huge, half-naked brute surged toward her with his stick. Suddenly the stage lights dimmed to darkness. Blackout. The house lights came up. It was intermission.
The audience sighed.
A cocktail waitress in a skintight black leather dominatrix costume slithered toward his table. “Would you like something to drink, Sir?”
The waitress was a sweet little thing with rosebud lips and wide blue eyes. Her youth and eagerness didn’t jive with her fetishwear.
“Thanks. I’ll take a scotch. Neat.”
He nursed his scotch during the rest of the intermission, reviewing his notes. On the whole, it was going well. He hoped the owner of the Vault would be as happy.
The house lights dimmed again.
The armored astronaut, so striking in silver, stood with the half-naked giant in a pool of light. She was fearless. Suddenly, with an eruption of sound and radiance, she ran from him. The brute followed.
Grant studied the drama, scribbling notes without taking his eyes off the stage. The lighting design for the chase sequence was crazy, complex and audacious. And flawed. Damn.
The savage caught the silver-hued invader at her waist. He tore off her protection, leaving her bare. Only the flimsiest silver threads covered her body. The audience stopped breathing for a moment. Light showered onto the couple. The music pumped, violent and arousing. The nearly naked astronaut writhed in the man’s massive arms. An extraordinary dancer, she emoted such distress. Her voluptuous body was a wonder. Soft, bouncing breasts. Luscious womanly hips. The giant stood still, impossibly tall and muscular, cruelly imprisoning her with his bulk.
The audience panted with anticipation. Would she submit to him? Would they consummate? Would the resulting lightnings singe them all?
Grant stopped taking notes, mesmerized by the captive’s movements. He was close enough to see her expression of anguish, the texture of her skin. He even spotted a tiny tattoo on her lush, rounded ass. An angel? A fairy?
She swung around the unmoving giant’s body as if the man were a stripper pole. It was an amazing sight. Finally, holding on to her captor’s thick arms, she arched back, her glorious body open to him. Her expression was now one of utter rapture. The brute jerked her body up, slamming her into his huge chest. The drum rhythm beat in time to their undulating bodies. Lightning bolts spit and hissed around them.
It was a long, long climax.
Then came the finale. The rest of the cast swirled out onto the stage, joining the new couple in a joyous dance. It was a celebration of the union between man and woman.
The afterglow choreography was complex, but the stagecraft—Grant’s responsibility—was simple.
Grant returned to observe the show several more times, sitting alone at the same table, taking notes, to fine-tune the tech. He paid special attention to the enthralling creature in shreds of silver. What kind of girl was she underneath that
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