The Dancers Chocolate

It's lonely being a striptease dancer. Now she's gone. A ghostly dancer rolling inside a Maida Vale House. The rich geezer. The owner of the joint from the nightclub she seductively ripped her knickers off in. He dragged her to a Maida Vale house to murder her inside his aphrodisiac sins. He grinned a big chocolate grin. He never forgot his chocolates. Used them as tools for seduction of his dancers. Each one who towed the line ended up inside his chocolate tent. The house in Maida Vale that sits on a hill with evil intent.

I endured dancers screams through the midnight air. In my dreams they reached out for my assistance. They're all standing burning in that house over there. Walking in dark concealing coats by daylight. Ready to undress when the clock strikes twelve. The club, an upmarket Mayfair joint, had a boss with invisible Viagra running from the tip of his nose. Not that it existed then, but men will be men, whatever the modern day pharmacy drips out it's tongue.

Here I go with my spiritual pharmacy, I got to go rescue one dancer from burning any longer in the third veil. The place between heaven and hell where no one wants to end up in. I've packed my bucket of magic spiritual potions. The one's that transcend the soul to better directions.

Screaming out to me in desperation to come to release her. She warned me of the chocolate on men's hanging tongues. She also told me of an evil dancer who was not like her at all in personality. Still got the chopping block. He came for her too. The big boss used his chocolate like champagne with glue. Being knocked off by chocolate murder tools, is no weapon one can easily find ways to describe. I will but try.

Upon the dancer's tool of seductively striping off, slowly. An artistic slide of undoing linen in perfect time. Each beat from a musical number. Carefully selected to be in good timing with each clasp or catch. Hopefully with a beat or two in-between. Catching flying dollar bills in the air. One's tongue would only sit and stare in surrender. Hanging out like a large pout. Spell-bound, carefully attached with a buckle or strap. Making creases between folds of shimmering glowing skin. The dancers tool was meant to fool you into falling into her trap. This time however she fell instead. Right inside a Mayfair Club chocolate monster trap.

The second dancing ghost residing in Maida Vale house on a hill. She's giving my dead friend blue murder every day. Causing her living hell from the other side. She was another dancer from the same joint. That girl was jealous of my friend to the bitter end. My ghostly dancing friend I have to rescue, told me last night. The other dead dancer drives her insane by walking her route every night screaming at her through a mirror hanging on the wall. She point blank told me she cannot take it anymore.

In my dreams she screamed for my earthly assistance. I, thought what's next. I got three dogs and a cat all in one hat, to juggle this week. Now, to top it all, ghosts need me to rescue them from 'Dancer, Number 13 Street'. Maida Vale does hold some keys for me to open that door. Keys to the haunted house, I mean. Indeed, I keep my keys, years after I lock up house. One never knows what will come out the woodwork later. Ghosts do tend to turn up at unexpected moments. Like now.

Think twice if someone buys you chocolates. You don't really know what the motive is. Labelled as a tools for seduction, but now think outside the box. It can be a murder tool too, like it is, herewith inside this story. I surmise some mean men enjoy the experience. Plenty of sadists on this planet. The French have a famous museum my late mother told me. Tried to find it for you. I Looked, it's vanished like ghosts do. Don't worry they all come back to find us.

I'm on a mission packed my bag full of mystical things. My striptease friend was the kindest swinging girl in town. She couldn't half dance, even when she was upside down. Do you know she taught me all-kinds of moves. On the dance-floor. She partied hard. She was over many magazines. Dated some big-timers. I used to go to see her wrapped up from head to toe to avoid paparazzi. She was always getting into life pickles. Chose the big time bad boys. A few better one's flew in sometimes, they couldn't keep up her pace. She was a fast mover, not only on the dance floor.

Real women require real men. She was one of those. I never knew how she held her liquor. She'd knock back double-vodka spreads, usually with tomato juice. They call it 'Bloody Mary' I think ? Like it was easy pee-see Japan-easy. It never went to her head. She was always well-painted from head to toe. I was told off by her, if I had a thing out of place, in everyday beauty secrets. She knew the game of life. She ended up no mans wife. She was free from the day she was born, until she was seductively murdered. The big man with chocolate cake was the day she remembered her mum's egg.

Let me see, if I have my potions packed I require to reach the dead. I can't have other evil female ghosts tormenting my friends. Sounds like hell on the other side. My dancing friends current run. She needs to get out of jail. I must grab her now back to the the other-side, otherwise we can't bring her back. Re-incarnation has it's own rules. I might also find out more about the dude who murdered her. I know he gave her a massage with chocolate cake, after layering her with chocolates from some big named brand. There she lay all covered in chocolates from head to toe. Apparently, she whispered to me from the dead room. Maida Vale district. She says, he anointed her with poisonous wine after covering her flesh with chocolates. After she was induced into another world. The boss with the fat cigar of the Mayfair Club then he forced chocolate cake down her throat. By this time, she had already gone to the third fold between heaven and hell. Was the living dead in no uncertain terms.

The boss of the Mayfair club was so busy attending to his other chocolate cake murders of all his other striptease dancers. He left one knot undone. Well, of-course he tied his dancers up. Otherwise they may have done a runner like Cinderella.

Inside my magic hand-bag is my secret potion. It will release her from the fire ride back to the white light. Her soul can continue on. She won't have judgement yet. She's been far to naughty to last long on that court before heaven. If you have been very naughty it's back to fire. She won't have to return to the fire. My potion exterminates any other dancers out for her. She will most likely return to earth to complete her mission without thinking twice. If what I pull out my little black book of tricks works. I shall let you know. Must dash or I will loose the last dance.

Did you know Delila Read This ?

Delila Reddit ( pen name)

Yvette Louise Melech

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