#3045: Batumi- Georgia
Original photo: @harisnukem
Salome is a woman who has dreamed of dancing her whole life and finally decides to give it a try. Her teacher, Tea, guides her through traditional Georgian folk dance, but as their lessons grow more intimate, Salome realizes her attraction to Tea may be mutual.
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Transcript
It was early evening in Batumi, and when Salome looked out the window of her office, she saw the sun dipping slowly into the sea. She was lucky to have such a view while working, though in a way it was also a curse—she watched others explore the city, swim, and spend time with friends, while she remained shackled to her desk. She knew work was unavoidable, but no matter how positive her attitude, she couldn’t truly enjoy it.
There was, however, a highlight to her day. Once work was done, she could finally leave for her next adventure with a smile on her face. Grabbing her bag of workout clothes, Salome left the office feeling lighter. For six months now, she had been learning Georgian folk dance, something she had always admired from afar. She had envied the effortless grace of the dancers and finally decided it was her time to try. That decision had led her to the studio—and to Tea, her teacher, who had quickly become the center of Salome’s inspiration.
Walking through the streets of Batumi, Salome admired the blend of modern and centuries-old buildings before reaching the studio. On the second floor, the changing room buzzed with chatter as the other women prepared. She changed into a long-sleeve shirt and flowing black skirt, perfect for the dance, and stepped into the mirrored studio where Tea was waiting.
Salome’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of her teacher. Tea was beautiful, a few years older, with a graceful figure, large brown eyes, and a posture that radiated confidence and elegance. From the very first lesson, Salome had felt captivated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be Tea or be with Tea, but her admiration only deepened with every class. When Tea corrected her form with a gentle touch, Salome allowed her thoughts to linger dangerously close to desire.
The students gathered, and as one of the strongest in the group, Salome stood in front. Tea’s proud glances made her giddy, and when the music began, Salome moved with energy and joy. Compliments from Tea pushed her harder, made her want to be even more graceful. By the time the class ended, Salome still felt the rhythm pulsing through her and wished the lesson would never stop.
As the others left, she approached Tea and asked if she could stay a little longer. Apologizing for taking up her time, she explained that she needed extra help with kartuli, the traditional couple’s dance often performed at weddings. She would need it for an upcoming family celebration, but she struggled with the most important part—averting her eyes from her partner as tradition required. Tea smiled warmly and agreed to help.
The music began, and Salome tried again—soft, graceful, moving like a dove. But her admiration for Tea was stronger than her discipline. Despite herself, her eyes lifted to meet her teacher’s. Tea laughed, halting the dance, and asked if she understood what that meant. Salome nodded nervously: when a woman looks into her partner’s eyes, it signals her interest, her attraction. Tea smiled knowingly and teased, “Then it shouldn’t be hard to avert your gaze… unless you feel attracted to me.” Salome laughed it off, flustered, and they resumed.
As they danced, Salome’s heart fluttered. Watching Tea court her through traditional gestures felt thrilling, even if it was only practice. She told herself to stay focused, but eventually, she gave in. Her eyes locked with Tea’s, and this time neither looked away. They danced, breathless, the unspoken tension thick between them—until Salome finally closed the distance, cupping Tea’s face and kissing her.
Fear shook her body, but joy surged when Tea parted her lips, deepening the kiss. Salome felt like she was floating, all her dreams blooming into reality. Their kisses grew hungrier, their hands exploring, until Tea pulled her closer, sliding her palms over Salome’s body.
Salome babbled confessions—how long she had wanted this, how much she admired Tea—but Tea silenced her with a smile. “No more talking,” she said.
They undressed each other quickly, stumbling to the floor, the polished wood cool under Salome’s back. Tea’s naked body above her was perfection, and Salome couldn’t stop touching, caressing her breasts, moaning at the sounds she drew out of Tea. Her teacher’s lips and tongue teased her nipples, pulling desperate gasps from her.
Then Tea shifted, straddling Salome’s face, lowering herself until Salome could taste her heat. Salome eagerly pressed her tongue against Tea’s slick slit, savoring every moan, while Tea’s head descended between her thighs. When Tea’s tongue found her clit, Salome whimpered, the pleasure almost unbearable.
They moved together, hips grinding, tongues working, their moans filling the empty studio. The intensity built until Tea slipped her fingers into Salome’s wetness, curling them inside as Salome pushed her tongue deep into Tea in return. Their cries mingled, their bodies trembling as climax overtook them almost in unison.
Collapsing onto the floor, they held each other, breathing hard. Tea chuckled, asking if this had been the lesson Salome needed. Salome laughed through her exhaustion and nodded. They kissed again, tangling together on the studio floor, neither ready to let go.