How an Engineer[M] met the goddes Persephone[F]

To do this story justice I’ll need to start at the beginning.

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When I was young I struggled with social skills. I was quit, awkward and scatter-minded. This ensured my almost complete isolation, and anybody that has been to any school ever knows that there is safety in numbers. A safety that I did not have. I can go on to tell you my poor tearjerking experience but I’ll spare you the wimpy kind cliché story and tell you that with the guidance of my Grandfather that I made it out alive. He helped met, without trying to change me. “You will never be like them” he would say. “But that’s not bad. Stand back. Look at what they openly hide on their faces and in their eyes. See what every other eye has been trained, by social construct, to ignore.” So that is what I did. I stayed out of sight and kept quiet. Every new teacher I would get would first be astonished by my good grades, astonishment would turn to concern when they started to notes my isolation and lack of interaction with my peers. My Grandfather was called in numerous times and would sit with countless teachers and school appointed psychiatrists discussing my blatant deviation from the norm. But for us, the Aidoneus (the unseen), this was normal.

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Fast forward a university. Here is where I easily fitted into the background. And due to one lucky encounter, I found myself as a member of a group of girls. I was the designated to sit in the friend-zone and when asked about me the reply would be “he’s like a brother”. I am usually astounded by guys that bitch and complain about being in the friend zone. Here I learned what girls wanted “or thought they wanted” what boyfriend did wrong and I was privy to all drunk phone crying, midnight conversations, late-night texts and everything in between. “We can always count on you” the girls would say when I was thanked for picking them up, late at night, drunk from some club and ensuring they get to bed for some much-needed sleep.

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Sleep is another thing that always eluded me. I am forever trapped in an overactive and scatter mind that would drag me down into anxiety as often as it forced me into fantasy. My waking time was spent practicing what my grandfather taught me. “Focus on the facts, not on what you feel. See with your eyes. Prepare for what you know is coming.” This advice helped me greatly in the waking world and is the reason I always did good in school. But when night fell and everyone would lay down and drift into sleep, this was the time I dreaded the most. Lying in bed with my mind running in a 100 different directions calling up yet another awkward situation I caused, or conjuring dark conversations that were held behind my back, or transporting me to the fantastical land of pure imagination. Luckily my Grandfather found that reading to me or having me read by myself would focus me to the point of sleep. So I read copious amounts of books, from great classics to even the sappiest smut that is usually consumed in grate mounts by housewives.

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My silence also labeled me a great listener and I had perfected my answers, quotes usually shamelessly plagiarized directly from one of the books I read. I use to imagine them as flashcards. I had a pile for small talk. “How are you” “How was the weekend” “your hair looks nice”. A pile for replies when someone confided in me. “It will be OK” “he doesn’t know what he has in you” “you go kick his ass” and countless other piles that I neatly prepared to ease every social interaction. I graduated with honors and received my Bachelor’s degree and later my Master’s degree in Engineering (I know great choice for the socially awkward, my grandfather chose my direction of study for me)

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Fast forward to the present day. I’m in the USA for work and my company booked my flight with only one check-in luggage item which meant that I had to leave my books at home. This made my nights in the hotel terrible. I downloaded a few books to my phone but this would strain my eyes and leave me with a twitchy eye and irritated the next day. Then it hit me one night around 8 pm “Go to a strip club”. Pop culture constantly refers to strip clubs as a good way to waste time, rites of passage to manhood and I was intrigued by the Idea to experience something new. I got up to shower and chastised myself when I saw my scruffy beard in the mirror. Lack of sleep is no reason to neglect good hygiene. I started my post-shower ritual, shave, brush teeth, moisturize, deodorant and a small amount of body fragrance (Girls don’t like an overwhelming smell of anything! Take it from someone that has heard them complain and laugh about it numerous times). A sat down and researched the best strip clubs in my area. After selecting one I looked up “Strip club etiquette” I got some money, memorized how to get to the club and locked my phone, wale, rest of my money and passport in the hotel safe.

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To say that I was very anxious is an understatement. I started analyzing myself, was I going to embrace myself! Will I resent this decision and feel guilty afterward? But I calmed myself by applying this to a simple engineering process. The concept design was completed by millions of men before me. I created a detailed design for my current situation, the best solution and course of action was detailed and memorized. I was now fully in the prototype phase (and any Engineer worth his salt will tell you that you can’t make the problem fit the solution). There is nothing lost in stopping the process, only information gained.

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I got to the club and walked in. I was glad it was a Tuesday night because it was almost empty except for a group of guys celebrating, what seemed like, an 18th birthday. (No alcohol club, it was one of the parameters when I started my search) “Hay there” I turned and saw a smallish girl behind the bar. “Cover is $10” I knew this, I was prepaid. **(Left front jean pocket)**. My research suggested not wearing jeans, but jeans are all I packed. I gave her the $10. “Anything to drink,” I ask for a lemon juice and if it is ok if I sit anywhere. “Yea” she answered giving me my change in $1 bills. I turn around and froze on the spot. Before today I have only seen 3 girls naked. The girl I saw on stage would be the fourth. I go sit down in the first row of tables to look at her. The party guys were sitting up against the stage laughing hard and enjoying themselves, throwing the occasional $1 bill in her direction. She would smile at them but as soon as she turned around to present her back to them her smile would fade. The guys would not notice they weren’t here to look at her face. The song stopped and the announcer let everyone know that you could book a private dance with the girl and announced the next dancer’s name. The first one picked up her money, discarded clothes and went backstage. The next dancer did better. She did her dance while smiling and winking at the big spenders directly under her high heels. While she danced our eyes met and she looked away quickly. No real joy in her eyes. The same joyless eyes as the other people in my office. Her time was up and just like the previous girl she picked up her money and clothes and went backstage. Three, two-minute songs, that is how long each dancer is on stage.

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The third dancer, which only stared at the back wall above the bar, was partway into her second song when one of the girls sat next to me. “Hey how are you,” she said while shrinking from my gaze. **(Smile, Don’t look at her so intensely, you are making her nervous)** I think as I flip through my flashcards, settling for normal conversation, seeing as there were no pile labeled strip clubs. She complimented me twice. First how big I was **(not true. I’m of average build)** And that I’m good looking **(Again not true, very average).** It was during this somewhat fruitless conversation that I decided I was going to leave, noting that the enjoyment of strip clubs was not for me and to my mind another striking difference between me and a normal man.

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Not knowing how to terminate the conversation humanely I was forced to sit and listen to this poor girl trying to carry the entire conversation herself. Her final sentence died spectacularly in a flurry of uncomfortable silence when the next girl walked on stage. 5’10 dark hair, golden skin with brown eyes. She had the build of a goddess, worshiped for beauty and curves. Something about her was different, the way she moved, the way she walked. Everything. I vaguely noticed the tortured-chatty-girl leaving my side, probably relieved to be free of my scrutinizing gaze. This girl on stage was dressed with a sexy full-red Wonderwoman one piece. Hair back in a single ponytail that hanged down past her shoulder blades to the small of her back. With very large loop earrings. She captivated me with the way carried herself. O my God how she danced. It was a sacred act that would renew a broken soul and make men bow in reverence. But she did not dance for us mere mortals, she danced because she enjoyed it. It seemed like every movement gave her pleasure and that pleasure radiated from the stage overwhelming the poor fools in front of her. When she opened her eyes she looked directly into mine, she liked dancing and loved being watched. I was enraptured by her body and her eyes kept me her willing prisoner. She glanced down at the poor lucky souls in front of her, satisfied that she had their complete attention she turned her gaze upon me, she wanted something from me, demanded it. She stared into my eyes and the world melted away. She was only dancing for me. My mind moved with her and for the first time in my life, I understood what the great poets meant with their yearning words. First, she pulled the top strap over her head, freeing her beautiful breasts. I drunk in every detail I could explore. Her soft natural mounds with small areolas that were paler and pinker than the rest of her skin, my eyes wandered up to her face finding a satisfied smile there when our eyes met again. She moved with the beat of the song drawing me in, weaving me into her spell and I was powerless to resist. Her hands sliding down her perfect body, down to the two golden clasps, holding the front of her covering to the back, and without any fanfare, she unclasped both and let it fall away from her body. My body shuddered and at that moment I knew I was dying, my heart beating to the rhythm of the song. Her movements the only thing keeping me alive. She danced for me and against my will, my lips curled into a smile. Then without warning and so abruptly in ripped at my soul, she stopped right there on stage and proclaimed. “He can smile!” with a beautifully noted laugh. She continued to dance and finished her set. As she disappeared backstage I found myself still grinning like an idiot.

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My mind returned to sobriety, now free of her intoxicating presence. Confliction was my first emotion than regret and longing followed. She came out from backstage and went to the bar. The announcer announced yet another dancer’s name and that you could get any one of them to dance for you privately. **(privately)** I thought, **(Just for me!)** **(Are you worthy of her time?)** I had to stop myself. “Focus on the facts”- this is a strip club. She will never be yours. “Don’t focus on your feelings”. I stood up and walked over to where she was sitting at the bar with a man to her right.

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“Would you dance for me?” is said, concise, to the point, clear, like an Idiot!

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Thinking back, I realize that correct social etiquette would have been to wait for the two of them to finish their conversation. But it was out. Logic dictates that nothing in the past can be changed. So I stood there with both of them looking at me, In Silence.

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Silence is usually the bane of every person’s conversation. Normal people always wanted to fill in the silence, rambling away, like being alone with oneself would reveal something you did not like. But I am comfortable in complete silence already at ease with the monsters that hide within my mind. I stared into her eyes. She stared back and with a small smile she brightening the entire club and said.

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“I’m sorry, he has already asked and paid for a VIP show. But I’ll come to find you when I’m done, and we can then discuss that dance.”

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**(Smile)**. **(Nod)**. **(Thank her)**. I tell myself

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“Thank you,” I say.

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**(Make eye contact with him as well)**. **(Walk back)**. Coaching myself I sat down and contemplate her answer and my feelings. Slowly I rationalized myself free of her influence again. To my surprise, the club starts to fill up a slowly. With more girls showing up and soon every man had a girl sitting next to them, everyone except me.

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**(You are making them uncomfortable)** I realize. As another girl shies away from my gaze. She too is just another girl, she too will become uncomfortable near you, just have her dance and leave. Experiment completed everything sorted and stored away.

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“They won’t talk to you. You look stern, and they are afraid you will be mean or condescending” I turn to find her, standing there, sans the previous gentleman.

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“Hi, my name is Persephone, what’s yours and mind if I sit down?” We sit and I give her my name. **(what now?)** I think.

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“Focus on the facts,” I say out loud

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“Excuse me,” she asks.

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“The facts.” I say “I’m socially awkward, and this is my first time in a strip club. I’m not completely sure what to do next, like what are the rules”.

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Suddenly she lightens up and starts explaining everything, the on-floor rules, the private dances, and the VIP suite. I ask some questions about the club and what she’s comfortable with. She happily answers me while a new girl takes the stage. She gives me information on the girl and says

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“yea she’s cool. She’s my only friend that I hang out with outside the club.” I just stare into her eyes. She notices stopes and stairs back with a smirk on her lips. Silence.

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“I’m comfortable in silence,” I say breaking the silence. “please feel free to either fill it with yourself or share in it with me.”

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“O, I love to talking and you are super nice, we will do good together” **(a compliment?)** I think, **(but is it the truth? Someone’s perspective of nice is often not the true reflection but rather a preserved statement on what she currently experienced)**. (**So not a complement rather a statement on my mannerisms as perceived by her)**. I decide.

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We chat some more and she notices that her name is not back in rotation for the main stage. “hay still want that dance?” I answer yes while she leads me to a privet booth. She gives me the price per song and asked how many I want.

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**(Right shirt pocket)**. “Three songs,” I say. Exactly as planned. She sits me down and starts taking her heels off. I ask her what the rules are for this private dance.

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“Well, first this is a topless dance” she informed me,

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“no kissing” **(reasonable)** I think to myself

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“no licking” **(that’s unhygienic, you are dirty)** I think but don’t say out loud to my success.

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“it’s just gross and I’m dirty” she acknowledges my thoughts as if she could hear them. Maybe she is a real goddess.

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“You can touch me everywhere, but no touching my pussy” **(There’s going to be a cat?)** I think **(no she is talking about her Vulva, you dumb cunt)** I chastise myself.

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She gets on a box in front of me so that she can see the DJ.

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“I’m waiting for a new song to begin, don’t want you missing out.” She answers my questioning look while swaying to the remnants of the song. **(You can touch her)** I think **(This is new information, will I do it)** **(why not)** **(I’m not worthy)** I look over her body swaying **(soft and tender. Each touch should be a prayer)**

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The song changed and with that, she sensually, slowly, systematically steps off the box one-foot in front of the other step by step drawing closer. then suddenly, as if time resumed, she crashes into me like a wave. Her smell, the closeness, her hands on my chest threatens to drown me in her. Again and again, she crashes into me, she overwhelms me emotionally and physically. It feels like I’m being pulled asunder. My chest ripping with emotion and warmth, struggling for breath. She sits down on my lap and leans in to place her cheek to mine. How perfectly she fits there, so close, so intimate.

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“You smell nice,” she says ripping me back to reality. **(A compliment)** I think **(Truth and Fact)** I suddenly remember I can touch her, and lift my hands to her back. Instinctively my left-hand goes up to the nape of her neck end my right to the small of her back. I let my hands explore her back and buttocks, stroking her velvet smooth skin. I only allow the tips of my fingers to touch her, each a prayer. She stands up and turns around and sits back down on my lap gyrating to the music, drawing a labored breath from my throat. I now explore her back with my hands and eyes, touching her heart-shaped buttocks. I lean in a bit caressing her sides then lean in close hating the separation between us. I brace myself and cup a breast in each hand, my body shudders and I softly caress her breasts pulling her into me. Now with full access, I caress her small nipples. She pulls in a quick breath, and leans her head back on my shoulder, eyes closed with a huge smile on her face.

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“You have a soft touch, I like it.” **(another compliment) (Truth and Fact)**. She dances for me and only me, that is all that mattered at this moment. I breathe her in and explore her body. my hands sinking to her thighs. I can feel myself being poisoned by her breath so close to my ear.

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She smiles and squirms in my arms. **(Is she enjoying this?)** I think **(What if it’s an act?) (then she’s acting just for your enjoyment, it will soon be over, enjoy, feel, experience)** She turns around and effortlessly slips to her knees her fingers stroking the inside of my thighs. She leans in dangerously. Eyes half-closed, a playful grin on her face.

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**(I need to know)** a voice in the back of my head screams. I take her chin in my hand and lift it.

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“I have a request” She stops eyes open **(uncertainty)** before she puts her mask back on.

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“yea what is it?”

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“Look into my eyes, as deep as you can” I see her mask shatter in surprise and disbelief. She smiles and hops back into my lap. With a hand on each of my shoulders, she stares into my eyes, and then she smiles, blazingly beautiful, a true smile. She continues her dance but this time we stare into each other’s eyes. Her genuine smile touching her lips more often than not. She leans in and touches our noses together, while her hands stroke my chest.

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**(don’t kiss her)** I mentally scream **(the parameters for this dance have been set) (Focus on the facts).**

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She danced for me in ways that threatened to destroy me. Swaying, holding, caressing. My fingertips were alight with the fire of her skin. Passion burned in me but not for sex, rather a desire to have her smile at me. To look into her eyes and see enjoyment, enjoyment that was in part my doing.

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And with that, the three songs were over. She stopped. Slightly out of breath. **(Nooooooooo!)** the voice in me raged.

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“I need more,” I say out loud.

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“We can continue if you want?”

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“I can’t, I only brought enough for this “. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it slightly rocking my body.

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“There is an ATM over there you could…” she stops as I shake my head.

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“I brought nothing with me” **(I was smart.) (I was an idiot.) (I would have ascended the heavens and plucked the star for you) (Command the ocean to divulge its treasures for her!) (Calm down)** I tell myself. She looks at me and smiles.

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“Well don’t leave yet. I need to go backstage for a bit but then I’ll come to sit with you.” She turns to leave. **(Tell her)** I stop her with a touch to her arm. She turns to face me a genuine smile.

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“Yes” she breaths

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“You have a body that needs to be worshiped” I hear myself say **(When, the Fuck, did we decide to say that)** I scream to myself **(That is so corny you halfwit)**

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“Sorry I reply looking away. She puts her hand to my face demanding I look at her,

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“Don’t say sorry, keep those coming” That beautiful smile creeping to the corner of her lips.

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Shortly afterward she returns and we talk about a myriad of different topics. She told me about her personal life and what other jobs she does outside dancing. We discussed her hobbies and wishes, her plans for her trip at the end of the month and everything in between. I was mesmerized by the beauty inside of her. The announcer called all the dancers backstage and then introduced them to everyone present. Persephone was there and after the introduction, they climbed down from the stage and dispersed between the assembled men. I sat there contemplating if I should just leave. And with a start, she sat down next to me.

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“Luckily no one wanted a dance. Now we can talk some more” and talk we did. Soon she was back on the stage hypnotizing all present. After that, she had to dance full nude on a small platform they called the “satellite stage” I sat close to the stage finding the remnants of my drink change. As I gave her the last of my money she climbed down into my lap, full nude, pressing herself to me breathing warm in my neck. I reached and touched her back right above her beautiful ass. She is freezing cold in my arms. **(She worked up a sweat)** **(There is an aircon vent right above the satellite stage)**. I heard her breath catch slightly as I run my fingers up her back. Suddenly she pulled back up and onto the stage leaving me broken, yearning. She danced for all to see focusing her eyes more on me than any other man there. The song ended and so too did her set. She got down from the stage.

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Pressing her naked self to me she said “I’m quickly going backstage, we can sit and chat some more”

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I looked in her eyes **(Honesty) (she will sit with you for the entire night) (that’s not fair to her) (you have to leave before she destroys you.)**

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“No, I have to leave,” I say

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“Aaa. Well, thank you for tonight. It was fun spending the night with you” **(don’t leave you fool)** I think while she leans in for a hug. I analyze the angel of her arms and where to place mine and lean in to return the hug. Her smell further clouding my resolve.

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I remember her words dripping with honey “I’ll be working tomorrow and Saturday.” A promise.

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I turn and leave with the lyrics of an old Eric Clapton song playing on repeat in my mind

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“
Layla, you’ve got me on my knees. Layla, I’m begging, darling please.
Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind.
I tried to give you consolation When your old man had let you down.
Like a fool, I fell in love with you, Turned my whole world upside down.
Layla, you’ve got me on my knees. Layla, I’m begging, darling please.
Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind.
Let’s make the best of the situation Before I finally go insane.
Please don’t say I’ll never find a way And tell me all my love’s in vain.
“

And I knew I would have to see her again! Tomorrow!

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That night was the first night that I fell asleep without struggle my shattered mind focusing only on her and the spell she wove through my flesh

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**TL;DR!** I would happily offer up my heart on her altar.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/cfi5ob/how_an_engineerm_met_the_goddes_persephonef