and I dance and I feel his hands on my body, slowly I disengage myself from dancing and find myself, taunting and reclining as I can see he is a connoisseur of ladies.

I gracefully fall to the floor as I wish to be different and catch his heart.

Inch by melodic protesting inch, my arms before my body, I lift myself to a kneeling position, erect, the last bit of me to rise being my head, with a swirl of my dark, loose hair. Then, looking to breddelwyn, suddenly I bend forward, as though impulsively, I cannot not help myself, and, hands on the tiles, head down, kissed the tiles at his feet, before his boots. I look up at him. He lifted his finger for me to rise. With my right leg thrust forth, brazenly, and then, from my kneeling position, slowly, hands above my head, moving, high, arise swaying to my feet.

oh, my -- whatever is happening to me? why am I choosing to act in such a wanton fashion?