Alexander had returned from their Arabic adventure with a tan. Praxis returned as pale as she had ever been, but wearing pretty summer dresses that were perfect for August weather instead of her usual garb of almost Victorian clothing.
Both of them looked wonderfully refreshed.
Praxis was even in a good mood with her daughter.
Soon after they arrived, and settled in, Praxis carried a new suitcase to her usual chair, "I have presents for both of you."
Alchemy sat on the floor by her mother's feet while Blackheart perched on the coffee table. "Mother, you didn't have too," Alchemy pressed.
"But dear, I wanted to." Alchemy smiled, "first for you Blackheart," She handed him a wrapped package.
He took it, but didn't open it. Praxis sighed angrily, "What are you waiting for?"
"Oh," He looked down, "You want me to open it now?"
Praxis nodded.
Slowly, he unfolded the plastic bag and carefully slipped the box out. Cocking his head, he opened the box. Inside was a lovely necklace, in silver, with a large obsidian heart pendant.
"Do you get it?" she asked.
"It's a black heart," he nodded, "I get it."
"Do you like it?"
"It's funny," He commented, "I think I'll hang it on my bed. Thank you Praxis."
She turned now to her daughter, "Mimi," she passed over a box.
"Thank you mother," Alchemy set to untying the ribbons around the box. Once inside, she discovered beautiful clothing from Morocco. A smaller box inside the larger one contained a wide assortment of jewellery. "Oh, mother!"
"Quiet now Alchemy," Her mother smiled, "I know how much you adore belly dancing. I mean, you practise all the time."
Alchemy blushed, "I do love it."
"Well, know you have the costume to show us."
"I'll set a routine right away!" She had a wide smile plastered on her face, "thank you so much."
"I have something else for you," Praxis smiled and pulled a glass bottle out, "Perfume, I know how much you love the smells of Arabia." She sprayed some in the air.
"It's wonderfully exotic." Alchemy inhaled deeply.
Alchemy was in a good mood for the rest of the day. She didn't pull out the new clothing or jewellery, however.
"Why didn't you go to Africa and the Middle East when you love the culture so much?" Blackheart was leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen, keeping his voice low so Praxis –who was setting the table—couldn't hear.
"I didn't want to spend seventeen days overseas with them," She whispered back, "I prefer your company." She carefully tasted the sauce she was making, "besides, I can always go some other time."
Blackheart shrugged, not pressing the subject.
Praxis must have been pleased to be home. "Alchemy, I daresay your cooking has improved since I was away," she had just sampled a piece of chicken in a mushroom sauce.
Alchemy smiled, but for some odd reason, it was Blackheart who took more pride in the compliment. Hearing Praxis give her daughter the praise she so sorely fought for made him feel strange. Like it was his wife she had complimented.
Of course, the very notion was absurd. They had grown close in these days alone. Though he had to force himself to forget the very stimulating dream involving a young Alchemy, the two had formed a tight bond of friendship. He was simply proud of a friend who deserved the praise.
Yes, that was it.
That evening when both of them had retired to their room, Alchemy still refused to show Blackheart the costume.
"I want it to be a surprise," She said, placing the box in her closet.
Blackheart sighed and hung his new obsidian pendant on the corner of his bed, "You're being stupid."
"Look, in a couple weeks I'll put on a show for you and my parents, you'll see it then."
"What if I want to watch you practise?"
"I'll fucking kill you."
"Well, that settles that then," He rolled his eyes, "I'm going to bed."
"Goodnight then."
For the next two weeks, everyone saw little of Alchemy. She spent her time in the basement with her belly dance mix playing endlessly. Blackheart wanted a glimpse of this costume of hers, even if his better judgement told him it was a bad idea. Not because she would kill him, but because belly dancing was the most exotic, erotic art form he could think of. And to see a grown up Alchemy swaying her hips would be almost too much. Even just thinking about it made him crazy. Though the images that came to his mind were very enticing and engaging, but he kept denying any interest in her beyond a very good friendship.
Whenever they did see Alchemy, she was usually drenched in sweat, and her hair was matted. She would quickly eat and cool down, then go right back to work, unless it was late, in which case she would take a shower and collapse into sleep.
As she slept, and as her recital date drew closer, Blackheart watched her closely, curious as to what her routine was like.
What colour was her costume? Did it contrast her skin, or did it blend in seamlessly?
Was it a modest costume? Did it show only a bit of her belly? Did it show a lot of skin? Did the bra have a deep plunge? How high did the skirt cut up?
What did her dance include? Was it more in her hips or shoulder?
These questions and their possible answers, however, caused other things to pop up. Luckily, Alchemy was working herself to exhaustion, and she would not wake on the off chance he made any sound. Though, without fail, he always felt guilty after the fact. He tried to keep his mind from wandering.
Luckily, he didn't have to deny himself much longer.
The day arrived when Alchemy was scheduled to perform her belly dance. She cooked an Arabic meal for the family in the mid-afternoon.
It was a large feast, and the house smelt wonderful. Even though her parents were thoroughly tired of Arabic cuisine, they still sampled her food.
Alchemy, however, did not partake in the meal. She was preparing for the dance.
After the rose-water drinks were served by Praxis, a sign that the dance was ready to begin, the three went downstairs.
The place had been decorated with large pillows and silken canopies that Alchemy had purchased a few days before. Red tones were everywhere, but once the three of them had settled, the lights went out, and only a soft glow from some hidden source cast a very light red glow on the "harem".
Alchemy had set up a couple of incense burners, gently wafting a scent throughout the room. It was not a strong scent, but it did fill the room.
"That's sandalwood, and cedar," Praxis commented. Blackheart didn't care. He sat happily, drinking in the scent.
But, suddenly, a new smell was added to the air. The exotic perfume Praxis had brought back.
They heard Alchemy long before they saw her. Her "stage" was dark, for the spotlights she had rigged up were not on. She was dancing on the hardwood in the basement, with the gaming tables out of the way of course. She hung a black drape up behind her.
The music began, and the lights came up, and Blackheart was stunned.
He began at her feet. Her left foot had a silver anklet decorated with small coins. Attached to the ankle decoration was a thin chain that connected to a silver flower on a toe ring. On her right was a much simpler decoration with just silver bells. The bells jingled perfectly with the music.
Her skirt was long, and very flowing. When she turned or spun, the fabric also spun out. The skirt was tight on her upper thighs, but her calves were shown often. The fabric itself was a cherry red under a semi-sheer black.
She had begun to move her hips. Blackheart watched the beaded belt she was wearing. It was black, red and silver. The beading closest to the main belt was black, then dangled down changing to white then to red. It made a wonderful noise as she moved. The belt had little pieces of mirror in it, which reflected the light and created a wonderful pattern as she danced. There was also a medallion of sorts in the middle of her belt; silver beadwork in the shape of flowers with a red background and black boarder.
Her hips swayed elegantly. His eyes rested for a moment on her glistening body. It must have been oiled up, for it was shiny.
She hit her tambourine against her hip, and he noticed her hands. On her left was a beautiful red beaded bracelet with a few bells and connecting to a silver chain that her fingers fit through. On her right, the hand holding the tambourine, was a cuff around the upper part of her arm. It was silver with many bells that matched the music as well.
His eyes then rested on the beaded bra she wore. In the middle, a triangle of beaded fell; black, then white, then ending in red, just like the belt. On the cups of the bra, the same pattern fell, along with smaller beaded medallions along the inner edges of both sides. The bra connected to beaded straps that then connected to a choker. The choker was beaded with red with a black boarder, until it met it the middle, resting right at the hollow of her neck. The choker then formed a circle of beads. In the very center of the circle were black beads, then a rim of silver, and finally red. Hanging from the middle of this choker was another beaded decoration, in the same pattern as before: black, white, red. It sat comfortably between her breasts.
All those beads hitting her skin must hurt, Blackheart thought.
Her makeup matched her outfit: black, silver, red.
Alchemy's long black hair was brushed out flat and straight, and it twirled excellently. Resting atop her head was a headdress. Silver, of course, made of a fine chain that went all around and had beads dangling from it. In the center was a silver medallion, a simple floral pattern. The medallion had three bells attached to it, resting right between her eyebrows.
Alchemy was just stunning. Her movements, her smile, her costume. Everything about her was truly beautiful.
All too soon, according to Blackheart, the dance ended. He must have applauded the hardest, because he was the first one she hugged when she ran over. He, however, had to quickly push her aside, lest she feel the massive erection he had been trying to hide.
Everyone congratulated her, and even if she was drenched in sweat and her face was flushed, she felt really sexy and had fun dancing.
Since it was late, and she was tired, Alchemy retired to her room. She had hoped to spent some time alone, just looking at herself, but found Blackheart in their room.
"That was amazing," He commented when she came in, still in full costume, "where'd you learn to do that?"
"YouTube, mostly."
"It was..."
She smiled, "it's not that hard, really." She started to slowly twirl her hips, "it starts with the hips." She added in basic shoulder movements, "then you add the arms, and begin to pose. Once you have enough poses, you execute them rapidly, and set it to music." She took off her bangles and jewellery, "I'm going to take a shower, then probably pass out. That was exhausting."
She exited the room, but returned quickly, wrapped in a towel.
"Sorry," She said, "I just had to hang up my costume."
"Don't...worry about it..."
She left for good this time, because he heard the shower running.
"I really hate that girl sometimes," he curled up in bed, quietly nestled under a warm duvet. "I really do hate her." And, of course, by "hate" he had meant "given him a massive erection that would not just vanish randomly". The situation was quickly ebbed within a few short moments, and luckily he had finished and managed to fall asleep by the time Alchemy returned from the shower, and collapsed on her own bed.
Unfortunately, a trial was fast approaching.
