So many wicked thoughts…..where do I begin to live them?
A mischievous smile flings over the face, than it vanishes into
played innocence. A sense for adventure, to go beyond limits,
to break rules flushes the system.

This twitching and itching from head to toe…
Obnoxious irritation.
So undeniably delicious,
sweet to the nervous system,
exiting to the spirit.

The death of one situation to the rise of another,
a multitude of outrageous impressions entering the mind.
The want to give in to them – so strong.

With the flick of a wrist, tender feet emerge from veiling, soft flowing
fabric that covered them.  Oh, that wasn’t intended . . .

Liquid like textile streams down onto the floor,
the thighs revealed shine with excitement.
Well, then…

Those penetrating gazes from across the room feel like there’s nothing to
be hidden from them. They will absorbingly discover every tiny movement, every detail of revealed skin, the smallest twist of emotional change. Violent hunger for every faint detail in exchange for the lust of revealing in awkwardness that which is not to be uncovered.

Whispers. Murmurs.

More eyes are fixated on the exorbitant mocking of light flesh. Oh, that little sting of exhibitionism. How well it plays into the voyeuristic observation of attentive eyes. And how well it plays into the gasps of those who would not dare to surrender of any, any thought of . . . well – daring?

Long lashes sink down slowly only to rise up slowly as if they are heavily laden with laziness, like the eyes are asking for permission to stay closed, to linger within the non-existent boundaries of the darkness behind the lids.

The necklace, more a tool for bondage, glides through skilled hands, playfully exploring every bead, every pendant, every link of that endlessly long chain accommodating a nesting for ravishing colors and shapes, the slow smooth movements of every dome lapsing from one elegant finger to the next, extending into dark red nails, movements, which lure those who watch into oblivion. And again the eyes wander down the necklace, with the sole purpose to find it striking along smooth thighs. What a sight, what a feeling. Exhilaration takes over and tempts into further tempting those eyes, which are capable to remote control vocal cords, hands and body. Along the lines of disclosure runs the inherent threat to provoke utmost violence. Yes.

To leave the desire unfulfilled gives such pleasure, the assurance that by removing the object of desire it evokes even more of such. More pain, more pleasure. When the fabric is being moved over those pale long legs again, the forlorn sensible pain of those for whom those tools of enticement are now unseen is irrevocably intimidating. The stares become more intense as if they could melt away the clothing that hides the treasure underneath.

A threat roams through the air, alarmingly intimidating,

The desired effect is created. It is time to leave. One smoldering look over the shoulder and out of the door. The fresh air rips the soul into another reality. Some deep breaths. That was close. A smile carves it’s way from one side of the face to the other. Utter disturbance was the goal. And was it not created?

Red high heels make a clicking sound each time they hit the pavement of the sidewalk along a lively main street, away from the scene of crime.

To get away with such provocation is a skill, it takes timing and language. It was mastered tonight. How many more times was it possible to get away with it? We shall see . . .

~ Joice Joker


Joice and her partner David Esotica work with women to create the ecstatic intimacy in a relationship they crave. They believe in laughing, crying, passion and orgasms. So you can imagine what happens when they talk about sex.

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