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Disclaimer; "The Pretender" and it's characters are protected trademark of MTM and NBC.This story is independent fan fiction and no infringement of copy right intended. Nor are the contents of this story intended to reflect adversely on the gentle art of belly dancing.

Many thanks to Yip who encouraged me to write this story. It was the first one I wrote and little did I know that it would forever change my life in the Pretender fandom.



Melons
by Ra-Chell






Jarod bounded up the long narrow stair case to the middle eastern night club on the second floor and was quickly escorted to a table in front of the dance floor. The dim smokey room was filled with people in evening attire, a sharp contrast to Jarod's black t-shirt & pants.

Excitement began to build as the band started to play. The figure of a woman dressed in red blurred past him leaving the scent of perfume in her wake. She danced around the small perimeter of the stage, mysterious, yet familar. Turning towards Jarod, her full red lips smiled mischeviouly at him, her smokey blue eyes met his and seemed to say ,

I've been waiting for you, Jarod. I have something to show you, something you won't want to miss.

She stopped in front of him, reached behind her head and pulled her thick dark hair up, her hips keeping rhythm with the music. A red veil wrapped about her body, sheer enough to hint at bare skin & gold beads, opaque enough to bar a clear view. She turned as if telling him he had looked enough, danced away, her legs and feet playing hide and seek amoung the red folds of her full skirt.

The music slowed, the dancer posed center stage , body now undulating, hands floating in the air.

Slowy, she began to turn, loosening one end of her veil. She stopped in front of him, her smokey blue eyes laughed over the top of the veil she held in front of her face.

Not so quick, Jarod. This time you have to wait.

She turned , the veil wrapped itself back around her, hiding her once again as she stood undulating.

Several spins in the opposite direction, the dancer unwrapped the veil, freeing both ends. Now she hid behind the out streached veil, her body tracing a figure eight, hips in slow controlled chase of her upper body.

Like us ,Jarod. Just like us.

She started spining, spreading the veil behind her like a cloud at sunset. She came to a stop in front of him, pulling the veil completely behind her, her body moving to the music. His eyes wandered down , her breasts were like two large perfect melons restrained by a gold beaded bra. He followed the narrow valley between her breasts to a cluster of beaded fringe that licked at her navel. His eyes continued following the curves of her body coming to rest on the gold beaded belt encircling her hips, the beaded fringe spreading itself over top of her skirt.

Do you like what you see?

Her eyes seemed to laugh as she threw her veil around him, holding it up shoulder height, creating a secert place to hide him. The beaded fringe that reached her navel now began to dance and vibrate, her abdominal muscles fluttering like a butterfly's wings, her body moist from dancing. She seem to laugh at his amazement of her control.

You should know by now, the one thing I like most is control. Why are you so surprised?

The veil dropped around his shoulders like a shawl as the tempo of the music changed. Until now her dance had been solely for him. Like an unfaithful lover flirting shamelessly, she stood next to the drummer, one hand on her forehead, the other framing her hips moving in perfect rhythym with the drum.

He wanted to pull her away , to hide her from the drummer's eyes focused on her hips, to wipe the smile from the drummer's lips. The duet between drummer and dancer continued. The tempo began to change, becoming faster, her hips now shimmied, her damp hair clung to her face and neck. Her shimmies became faster, almost a vibration and suddenly the duet ended.

The music started once again to a much slower tempo. She returned her attention to him. Dancing toward him, she grasped the ends of the veil in her hands raising it shoulder height, enveloping him for a second time. Jarod closed his eyes breathing in her scent, perfume mixed with perspiration. He heard her calling his name over and over each time a little louder. He felt her hand brush against his forehead.

"Jarod!"

His eyes flew open. A concerned Miss Parker leaned over him dressed in her usual corporate attire, her hand covered with blood, her damp hair clinging to her face and neck.

"Jarod, are you allright?"

He remembered Miss Parker and company chasing him , turning to look over his shoulder after seeking refuge in the middle eastern market and some one or something catching his foot, tripping him. The floor coming up to greet his face was also a vivid memory. His body ached, his face felt swollen and cut.

Slowly he shook his head, indicating he was not too badly damaged. His hands were cuffed and Sam pulled him to his feet. As he tried to get his bearings, he found it amusing as Miss Parker tried to deal with Sydney who insisted Jarod be taken to the emergency room. Over the background of middle eastern music a small middle aged man was very vocal about the disruption her party had caused in his store.

As Miss Parker grabbed his arm and began to propell him towards the door, he saw her ally, a wooden pallet which supported a large cardboard container overflowing with large round melons. They were almost as perfect as Miss Parker's .....

"What's so funny Wonder boy?"

"Miss Parker now that you have caught me, you'll need a new hobby. Have you ever considered belly dancing?"












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