All Hallows Even Fall

A late Halloween performer gets more than he bargains for when he arrives.

The mood outside of the dance club, was cold and still, but Keith was more akin to the mood inside it, heated and lively. He quickly gave the cab driver all the cash in his pocket. It wasn’t the most polite gesture, but it was also more than the fare required. He owed it to the driver for asking him to run a few red lights which he did. The young dancer was running late, having overslept at his apartment. It was rare for him to do that before a job, but Penny and Camille had gotten him a lot of work in the fall as he asked for. Contrary to how Camille always praised him and remained unsurprised that he would get work, it surprised him that he would feel so quickly overworked. If he didn’t love what he did, he’d probably would’ve stayed in bed and accepted whatever consequences came. But he did love to dance; he wondered how much he would love his next job running late with little prep time.

Denise had set up a big Halloween gig and asked Keith to be a last-minute centerpiece in it all, thanks to a recommendation from his lover. It would be some sort of special theme that Halloween, or so he was told. The specifics he didn’t know much about, and had planned to be there two hours earlier than then to get briefed. At least he was smart enough to have everything at the club ready for him instead of rummaging through his closets the moment he woke up in a panic.

The club was already booming, Keith could tell from the outside. Inside, it looked to be a full house everybody already into the Halloween swing of things, costumes, drinks and and dances that told him how much alcohol some had already consumed, or how lost people were getting in the base rather than the music itself. His classical education of music and dance made Keith’s sensibilities lean almost toward an elitist perspective on things, and he could bore a crowd to tears on what music and dance theory, exercises for prep, how he’d been taught to let ones body react to the music; he managed to produce the opposite effects of his dance when he talked about it.

He knew it was funny to be that way, a classical background while moonlighting as a successful erotic male dancer. The two clashed hard to most, but he was one of the few among his classmates to love dancing over the prestige and what others would call “respectability.” It helped that he got the most honest feedback as a stripper. He knew better to keep all he could talk about to himself, but couldn’t help himself with those who understood. Camille had obviously been one of those people, and he found her so easy to open up to in conversation. He nearly did talk her head off while she just smiled and seemingly took all his nerdy fascination with dancing in. He knew he could get away with it being so handsome, but she was remarkably beautiful, even before she started dancing. Once he was done talking on their first date, he asked her what she thought of everything that came pouring out of him. Her response was to turn on the stereo and start a dance of her own. She brought her perspective on dance out in the open the best way she could, the way she knew people would helplessly respond. By the end of hers, Camille asked Keith in kind

“What do you think?”

She smirked as she asked, knowing his mind was far gone by then, lost in her rotating curves and thrilling belly dance. After that, there was no dance or dancer he preferred more than Camille and her enchanting art in motion. He dreamed about them and that first night often. Admittedly, he relived that first date in a nap earlier that Halloween, plus more that he wished would happen with her in his wildest dreams. He didn’t want to leave the dream until something nagged at him regarding Camille, and woke in a start that got him to the club.

Keith ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, figuring Camille to be somewhere in the club dancing, hoping to find her soon for prep and hoping that dreaming of their first date again was a good excuse for being late. That was if she could be found. His eyes were lost in what was a sea of light cream or white colors. Pirate outfits, togas, princesses, ghosts, all your typical Halloween costumes, nearly the whole crowd was decked out in a coordinated color scheme, with some exceptions. Keith realized that his cream-colored jacket blended in despite the blue jeans, laughing at how he was at least half-prepared for the party.

Denise was in the DJ booth, looking like Marilyn Monroe complete with the white dress. Above her was a banner.

“Not everything is black or white. Except on Hallow’s Eve!”

He waved to Denise who spotted him, pointing annoyingly at the watch on her arm. He mouthed “sorry” to her, and tried to make his way to the back when she pointed toward one of the few odd, dark spots among the crowd. Keith immediately recognized the caramel hair moreso, and moved to meet Camille.

He got closer to see what she was dressed as. A simple coal-black peasant top and gown flowing down past her knees, she looked and danced like a dark, sexy gypsy. The top was high enough to give a nice display of midriff. Keith loved how she looked, so lost in the motions that she didn’t even sense him nearby. That’s what made him think of her as more than a kindred spirit; she wasn’t just an artist, she was the work of art. And as much as he was tempted to watch her art unfold and change appropriately as the song did somewhere along the line, he reached out to touch her shoulder.

He almost screamed out to call her name, but the base of the music was suddenly gone and what sounded like classic orchestra began to play, something familiar to him. She turned her body and gave Keith a confusing shock. Everything was right about her, except her face, because it wasn’t Camille, but Penny’s face. He took in all of her, wondering how he’d been duped so easily to believe it was Camille. The wig was very convincing, and the belly piercing was perplexing, showing off a “CA” with no other context to explain. Penny smiled at him, somewhere between playful and sexy. She quickly shifted around his arms and got to his left side, to whisper in-time with the song lyrics ringing through the club’s speakers.

“I put a spell on you.”

Hands waved in-front of his face as if to convince him of magic being weaved right before his eyes. Magic seemed like a palpable explanation for how Penny managed to copy Camille’s movements so well. He knew Penny was always angling to learn exactly how Camille does what she does so well; he never knew she’d started on lessons let alone became such a quick learner. He was left raptured in all she was showing him, attentive only to her shifting and not the crowd’s, finding himself unconsciously opening up not unlike the open space they now occupied, impressed and waiting to see where this was going.

“Because you’re mine.”

Was whispered to his right side, unconsciously making him turn away to find Penny at his right side. Only it wasn’t Penny. She’d looked familiar, something to do with this club and Camille at some point, one of the holidays before, maybe Valentine’s day. June, his mind came up with, not knowing if that was her name or the month he’d seen her. When he’d seen her before was temporary thought drowned out by taking in all of her appearance, easily another physical Camille doppelganger, down to the caramel wig, the dance, and costume. The only real difference seemed to be how June had a fuller face than Camille, how it looked like she was succumbing, utterly surrendering to the music more than Camille had, with her eyes closed and head tilted back as if taking in as much pleasure as she was giving. He barely noticed the belly piercing being different with “MI” attached to it. His eyes loved the emphasis her hips gave, as if trying to put her piercing ahead of herself. Unthinkingly, part of him reached for her, forgetting it wasn’t Camille.

“You better stop the things you do”

Before he could reach out or anymore thought could be spared to contemplate the dwindling fact that it was June dancing, a dark, thin shawl softly pulled against his face from behind. The dancer before him and her surroundings were a dark mass with the only brightness being a few bright spotlights from the ceiling circling him, and the clothing of the crowd. When the silk shawl disappeared, a new doppelganger appeared before him. Same kind of wig, but he could tell this was a dancer he’d never met before. Her younger face, natural blonde eye-brows, a height slightly shorter than Camille’s on tipped-toes, and her bold steps that seemed to adapt to slower music than she was used to, but made it work with passionate energy.

“I tell ya I ain’t lyin’
I ain’t lyin'”

Was the song lyric, but instead of reciting it, whispers amended the message helpfully

“I’m the only truth you know. I surround you, bound you, seep you in pleasure that will drown you.”

The younger performer’s hands rubbed all over her body as she spun, often to her left, sometimes to her right to confuse Keith with a dizzying effect. Her hands stayed above her head, except to entice him with come-hither gestures. Her hips never slowed their spinning except to show off her belly piercing of “LL”

One of her outstretched hand gestures got close enough to tease the tip of his nose, leading him on as she backed away.

“You know I can’t stand it, you’re runnin’ around.”

A gentle push against the back of his leg joints let him unsteadily fall to his knees, but he never took his eyes of the blonde spinning, even as the another dark shawl covered his face and a mass of dark kept spinning.

The shawl released to another young imitator, naturally brunette by her eyebrows, almost as energetic as the last, but showing a love for the song as her muscles were waiting to respond to the beats of the instruments or the throaty lyrics. She spun exactly like the last, moved her hips like the last, but this one smiled at the downed Keith. She held the top of his head and spun some, then revealed her belly piercing “E’S,” then applied pressure to guide him unresistingly to his hands and knees. He looked up as the dancer joined hands with two others he wasn’t aware of, allowed to be cognizant of there being more than one dancer. They circled Keith like a merry go round, revealing the meaning behind the piercings.

“CA””MI””LL””E’S”

Camille’s. He knew it meant him. He knew he belonged to her. He was so happy to be hers. He somehow felt content despite a part of him knowing she wasn’t around, but her influence certainly was.

“I put a spell on you.”

The dark shawl came from behind again, only to cover everything above his eyes, tied behind his head like a bandana, left only to breath heavily and feel dancers, or just one dancer’s surrounding presence consume him. He felt small breezes from dresses and hands waving at him, body heat from covering him from all sides, touches across his face, chest, arms and legs barely able to hold him up, almost all at the same time. There was even an added bonus sensation of his ass being gently squeezed, eliciting an aroused moan out of him.

“Because you’re mine.”

To the crowd, four practically identical dancers circled the beguiled man like vultures. Avid eyes from every corner of the club awaited the moment when they would swoop down and consume them. As the dancer’s bodies lowered to the ground, hands extended toward him as if ready to do something to him as a group, the light dimmed slowly while they closed in on him. Seconds later, they brightened slowly as the women pulled back to reveal and behold a fifth rise up in the center next to Keith. They gasped at how magnificent she looked, emerging up like a phoenix from ashes.

Lyrics of the song spoke over and over again of love. Anyone that could glance at Keith’s face could see the love in his eyes, knowing they were looking that the real thing. She gave an adoring look down at him, but obviously one that showed she loved the control she held as much as she loved him. Even those emotional looks came secondary to taking in the real Camille, dressed like a gypsy queen amongst her convincing imitators. Hers was more crop-top style of exposed shoulders, several gold necklaces elegantly hanging down her neck, a slitted skirt that reached down to her feet, hemmed and decorated with wavy gold lines. Her colored hair was done up in a tall bun, dark and gold decorative shawl that looked like an elaborate hat or crown on her head, and gold arm bands that connected to her skirt for some reason. The close third place surprise was how Keith’s street clothes disappeared into thin air, left wearing only a white-colored, transparent yet very revealing version of a topless male harem outfit. Much of the crowd by then was convinced real magic had happened, and Camille was sure their minds make even more believers out of them before the dancing was finished.

Her replicas dispersed to retrieve items out of sight. Two of them brought what looked like a throne for Camille to sit in, and a large round body pillow for Keith to rest on below. The other two brought out long rolls of black imitation silk for each dancer. The crowd watched in rapture as Camille took her throne while Keith took his pillow at her feet. He didn’t stay there for long as she gestured up and he began dancing for her, with the kind of fervor he reserved only for her, more than enough to make a lasting impression when he danced for work. He tried seducing her in her seat while she enjoyed everything he did without ever loosing an ounce of control. Pulling at his nipples and groping the bulge in his thin thong, which only made him work harder to please her.

All of the audience could’ve enjoyed the sight alone, yet each doppelganger began interacting with the crowd, giving each section almost their own personal dance. They stayed just out of reach of anyone trying to touch, only to approach to use the dark silk in the crowd, finding one person to tie the wrapping at their hands and rolling the silk off to enwrap others as they seduced them. From one to the next, they grinded their bodies against some, caressed the face of others, teased a touch in body parts being gripped or places they obviously wanted to touch. What everyone received though was a connection to one another, with hands joined and silk caressing some part of their arms or bodies.

Eventually the crowd lost himself at a portion of the rate Keith lost himself in Camille. Unwittingly they moved together in a circle, coordinated yet lost in a haze of the center-stage seduction and each caramel-haired mimicker they came across.

Denise the club owner and DJ that night would’ve taken this opportunity to finally explain the theme of that Halloween, why they were all dressed in light colors, why the imitators were dressed in black, why darkness prevailed that night. Unfortunately she too was enamored by the show Camille put on. The hypnotic dancer had the foresight to prepare for her friend being beyond explanations, setting up a song that could play on repeat for as long as she wanted, and having her own mic ready to address and anchor the crowd.

“Greetings partygoers, one and all, saints and sinners. You know who you all are. Welcome to a wondrous night, a sacred night of power, of freedom, of expression, of seduction.”

A smiling, crooning tone filled the club, booming from speakers, booming inside people’s heads.

“The powers that be have come to you tonight, dark forces of unimaginable allure, coming to tempt you lightly-dressed saints. And by the looks of many happy faces, and traces of dark silk, some have found yourself indulging already. Now I know society would have you believe that saints should purge themselves of sin, yet it’s near impossible to be without sin. Like yin and yang, there is a potential balance of good and evil, of noble and wicked. For some, pleasure is a sin, a temptation, something you think you need to resist. A wise man once said ‘the only way to get rid of temptation is to give in to it.’ And as you give in to the pleasure, as my essence and presence and control entices you near and far tonight, allow yourself to enjoy my control, the pleasure I offer. The best saints know sin, and what better way to know sin than to indulge. And what better reason when it feelsss ssssooo goooood.”

Camille spoke her last words feeling Keith’s hands travel dangerously close to her most sacred of places; she giggled while letting her toes slide down leisurely against his thigh before gently pushing at Keith’s chest so he fell back onto his pillow as she rose from the throne. She noted that the music track had begun its remixed ambiance phase where only the instruments and more silent, borderline subliminal lyrics played, as Denise readied an innovative addition for Camille to use.

“And whenever you all hear – ‘I put a spell on you’…” She spoke as she brought her bracelets together while her hands made an outward spell-binding motion, the material tied to her skirt raising it up for what looked like a magical effect. Penny ingeniously came up with a way for Camille to summon that key lyric at will, a tech trigger in her bracelets that prompted a second audio program to play, totally indiscernible from the original song, programmed to look like magic as Camille’s motions added a witchy effect to them. Keith swooned at the near tease of her naked female self underneath the skirt, “you will feel my power course through you, and will want to feel the need to go along with whatever I may will of you. And if your sinking minds ever ask why…”

“Because you’re mine,” the audio prompting followed up and explained on cue, seconds later.

“I’m yours…” Keith whispered under his breath.

Camille’s smile turned practically devilish as she began her own dance, towering over her harem slave, transitioning between swaying to the floor and up to her tip-toes, knowing his eyes paid keen attention to every muscle and movement, moreso than the audience ever could given his angle and experience.

“I put a spell on you,” she brought her bracelets together again, and spread her hands out to the crowd. Everyone else felt pleasure rise up their spine, and more of it grip their bodies into a tighter hold they were ecstatic to be in.

“Because you’re mine.”

Faint whispers and silent nods sounded off in agreement from every direction.

“I put a spell on you,” she crossed her arms before launching them out into the crowd, her dress flowing in waves, her hips rode that wave like no other dancer there could.

“Because you’re mine.” Camille got Keith under his chin to give him the strength to come to his knees.

“I put a spell on you.” The crowd felt the palpable energy from her hand motions, and her flowing dress gave Keith an opening to under her skirt. Something pre-programmed in him told him not only to begin worshiping, but to stand as he did so, holding Camille’s legs up as his mouth spoke volumes of how much he was hers.

“Because you’re mine.”

He spun her gently enough so she wouldn’t get so dizzy, but what he was doing gave her a light sense of dizziness that she could enjoy. She felt like a professional ice-skater with how Keith kept her airborne for the performance, but she was also the choreographer and judge. It might not have been fair by some standards, but she didn’t hear anyone complaining. Quite the opposite.

The other dancers were still having their fun with the marching, linked crowd, one at a time, creating collective moans, a base of sounds for which Camille eventually came and became the summit of it, screaming and underestimating Keith’s tongue. The patterns of her dress flowed exactly like Camille hoped Keith would make it, not enough that they couldn’t look under it, but enough so the patterns of golden waves across her skirt drove everyone deeper down even in the club’s lower lighting.

She made sure Keith would only keep her airborne on the verge of an orgasm, lest she’d experience inhabilitating dizziness that would ruin the rest of the performance. Once she’d peaked and he’d cleaned the trances of arousal with his tongue, she was set back down to the floor, held firmly in his grasp as she regained her balance and spoke again.

“All of you lovely Hallows, feeling so hollow tonight, slowly becoming filled with that influential sin called pleasure.”

On that cue, the doppelgangers took to letting their hands caress each cheek and chest of the walking trance zombies she’d created. The women seemed to feel it more intensely as their breasts were caressed by hands that loved what they felt.

Camille laughed at how the pictures taken within the club might show what looked like a big cup of coffee with more cream than coffee mixed in at the top, but that cream was desperate to be mixed in.

“I don’t care if you don’t want me,
I’m yours right now.”

The subliminals track suddenly struck the minds of the four clones, each slowly turning their attention to the gypsy queen swaying to the center of them all. Camille smiled in anticipation as she felt playfully cornered, each of them approaching like predators, trying to out-do each other in how enticingly they approached their prey. Penny let her hips sway to and fro, showing off her recently-mastered belly-dancing skills. June rubbed her hands all over her body with every step, from her face down her neck, pawing at her own breasts, showing Camille how she felt the need to touch and be touched. Teri and Carlie approached in a coordinated effort, spinning slowly, capitalizing on their tutored specialty earlier that year. Pangs of pride rang with the queen watching her disciples turn and taunt with their bodies, hiding curves, sultry glances, peaks between the slits in their gowns; other pangs rang down between her legs as she watched them both.

Someone approached from behind, wrapping arms around her torso, just under her breasts, unable to articulate anything specific in her ear other than how good she felt with moans. She guessed it was June the ever-blooming wallflower at her back while the other three took turns teasing her with dances and touches. This part of the performance Camille didn’t direct meticulously, leaving them free to do whatever they could to seduce, or perhaps overthrow their queen. She prepared each in case that were to happen, but the how was a mystery being unlocked right before her eyes. She hadn’t felt this kind of planned-yet-unplanned excitement since she unlocked part of Teri’s inner desires, and now she was reaping the benefits of her teachings of each woman, loving the sweet taste of her own medicine.

Beyond them, Camille looked out to the crowd circling, still wrapped by their hands and dark silk, knowing the subliminals kept them moving, and gripping their hands together in a way they were suggested to grip their own ideal lovers, firmly, but not a painful squeeze. She watched their faces as the grips got more firm, watching the dancers, vicariously feeling what they saw, feeling the touch of other gripping hands respond in-kind.

She was lost to everything else so much she didn’t notice Teri at her front, lips pressed to her pulse point, Teri trying to relive their last coupling and giving her a hickie. Acting on instinct, she brought her hands between them, bracelets making a clashing sound at Teri’s face.

“I put a spell on you,” the determination in her young face dissipated the rest of the energy in her face. She took a step back as if to steady herself before collapsing to the ground. The energy Teri lost Camille gained in the form of initiative, spinning on her toes as Carlie did nearby, unaware of her awakened queen until she faced Camille again.

“Because you’re mine.”
“I put a spell on you.”

The song refrains nearly overlapped as Carlie stopped in her tracks when she heard and saw the spell being cast right before her eyes, beholdened to a smiling teacher yet again, a sign of pleasing and feeling accomplished and happy inside.

“Because you’re mine.”
“I put a spell on you.”

After bracelets clashed and hands waived in her face, she found herself dancing hand in hand with a familiar partner. It only lasted seconds, but that was all it took to be totally swept off her feet.

“I owe you big time for this, good girl,” she whispered to Penny before being released from Camille’s grasp, watching her back into June and being held from behind, only to make a symbolic gesture of a flower opening with her hands, that just happened to bring her wrists together again.

“Because you’re mine.”
“I put a spell on you.”

June heaved a heavy sigh and her arms fell to her sided at the spell flowing from her face to her feet like a flood of beatitude pouring from her brain.

“I swear, sometimes I even seduce myself,” she sensually gloated to her hypnotized look-a-likes.

The caress June felt in Camille’s gloating palpably made her shiver with pleasure, nearly falling into a deeper than controllable sleep. Camille had to hold onto her and whisper encouraging words of a pleased body and sturdy legs to keep her upright. When enough will returned to June for that, she received a kiss to her forehead before Camille regarded all of them.

“Keep dancing my pretties!”

“I put a spell on you,” a fresh hypnotic spell sent all the dancers back to the walking crowd, while Camille walked back to Keith, ushering him to his feet, taking his hand and beginning to waltz with him across the dance floor.

Everything seemed a blur of pleasure to them both, Camille less so as she led the dance. Everything other than Camille was a spread of light and darkness in constant motion, thoughts unable to solidify as they fell to the motion. Camille steadied herself before the same motion affected her as well, concentrating on the performance and control high she was on, thinking of the apology she’d have to give Denise for making her smile sappily and drool on her equipment, and of course her harem boy toy.

“This is so romantic, don’t you think? Just you and me, surrounded by dancing.”

Keith’s sappy smile grew brighter, his body saying more than his mouth could.

“Yeah, I feel that way too. And don’t worry baby, I know what you want. I know how bad you want it. You certainly can’t hide that.”

Camille didn’t bother to navigate around Keith’s tent from the thong. She moved wantonly against it, just to see him squirm.

“What would you do for it?”

“Anything.”

“What would you give for it?”

“Everything.”

“What are you if it becomes mine?”

“Yours.”

“What are you already?”

“Yours.”

“Then it’s already mine?”

“Yes Camille.”

“Like you dreamily told me you wanted to do to me on our first date after I danced for you?

“Yes Camille.”

“That you dream about doing almost every night to me, for me?”

“Yes Camille.”

“Then it’s time to give it to me.”

“Keith silenced them both with a deep kiss, his tongue dominating hers for once, followed by gentle kisses down her collarbone, the valley of her cleavage, her belly button, and under her skirt again before she was lifted off the ground again, spinning her as she settled above again, bracelets brought together over and over again as more layers of her spell spread out while she was eaten out quicker than the last time. She could only breathe, move her hands, and quietly scream from two overlapping orgasms, and then another quickly produced because no one else knew her body and erogenous points better than him by then.

Before her muscles could contract because of him again for a fourth, she used her legs to grip him to force him to move differently while holding her. Somewhere along the line, he lost control of his legs and steadily collapsed to the floor, Camille resting her calves and thighs around his legs and he continued.

He gave her one more before she moved down his body until he was inside her, to which his suggestion to be silent managed to falter. They both used their experienced hips to quickly match and then try to set the pace the other would follow. Camille’s top advantage couldn’t be denied, and Keith just had to ride out wave after wave of intense grinding. Not having to worry about spinning, he had more control to really make her crazy from below. Her screams weren’t quiet anymore, and all she could do was not bang her bracelets together like a toy monkey’s cymbals in crazed bliss. But the spell was cast over and over, until eventually everyone there succumbed to one.

***

As the night grew late and the next day was very early, everyone transitioned from dancing to talking, everyone feeling good after the main festivities. The sound after Camille’s final orgasm dwarfed her screams with a thunderous, conscious applause of the show. What remained was a collection of saints still wrapped in black silk that had been cut for each person. Teri, June, Penny, and Carlie were yucking it up with everyone else, some still doing a little dance when they felt like it.

Camille watched from her throne as everyone continued to have fun, watching her dancers, wondering who really looked closest to her. She biasedly settled on Teri since she spent so much time developing her for competitive dancing and carefully watching, seeing herself in the girl. She wore the wig the best at least. Keith shifted himself at her feet, snuggling against the pillow, somewhat tired but still with a willing spirit that she teased at with her feet.

“I can’t believe you made that happen.”

“What’s that?”

“My mid-dance performance sex fantasy. I knew from the moment I first met you, you’d be in that dream. Hell, I dreamed about it earlier today, or yesterday, before I was late.”

“Then perhaps what I did was right on time, just like you were tonight.”

She watched his face come to terms with all the programming she gave him, as he shook his head and got hard again.

“Perhaps you’re ready for another round.”

“What? You mean right now?”

“You were willing to do it with a dance.”

“But that was a dance, Camille. A dance,” he chided her with nerdy enthusiasm. “Passions run high, sweat, effort, a beautiful act all culminating to…well, you know.”

“Of course I know. And with the way you put it, I’m not the only one in the mood now.”

“But we won’t be dancing w-”

“Won’t we?”

“What will they think?” He looked at the crowd.

“They think you still have your harem outfit on.”

Keith tensed and suddenly curled up in a ball to hide his attractive yet foolishly modest stark naked self. Camille’s foot teasing his ass cheek tickled and only made him harder.

“Not that it was hiding a lot to begin with.”

He looked up at her as she spread her legs and her inviting womanhood glistened in the standard club light, oblivious to everyone but them.

“Care for a little sin, my little saint?”

“How can I resist seduction incarnate?”

“How can you when…”

She brought her still-attached bracelets together, forgetting the sound system was still on. Everyone in the club laughed at the surprise and clapped in Camille’s direction, well-programmed from the subconscious command to pay little attention to her actions as she sank to the floor and got one more performance that only they would talk about later, and reenact All Hallows Day.

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