A Note From The Writer



Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

The Threshold of Pleasure

Memoir

From the way the club was filling up, I guessed it must be close to midnight.I poked my head through the beaded curtains to check out how business was looking. "Business" was looking real good. The strip club was swarming with eager punters as Janette, a frumpy girl with barely concealed saddlebags winded up her routine to "Cherry Pie" by Warrant. Incidently as she slunk off stage she received only a tired response from the crowd. I nervously adjusted my new costume and gave myself a once over in the wonderland of shady mirrors that covered the entire nightclub. Glory Box by Portishead begins to create a hazy hush and I set flight with the fancy of a flamingo downt the spiral staircase and onto the stage below.


Throngs of cagey middle-aged men and bachelors hunch beside their over-iced beverages, the waitress deftly clearing them as soon as they could drink 'em. Delibrately waiting until the opening beats of the song, I made my entrance and smiled confidently to the crowd. I play it sexy and slow - some might say it's cheesy, but I prefer to call it classic.

I was mid routine on the top dancefloor of the Premier Suite when I saw her slither on stage from the corner of my eye, yet I pretended not to notice. A particular sultry brunette sliding down the opposing pole facing me. I smiled politely across the room but she was already deep into her routine and she had the nicest breasts I had ever seen. Admittedly she was probably underage, her face was just too pretty and unaffected. Of course, that only made me more turned on along with every punter in the place that was drooling over their polo shirts.
I'd had some coke beforehand but I'm peaking but not in a nasty way - I just know that I would really like to touch her, nothing heavier than naughty. She's on her knees now but she still manages to look precious. I embellish my routine with a few extra tweaks of my erect nipples and as I ease my skirt down , I'm rewarded with roaring applause.

"Give me a reason ... to love you"
"Give me a reason ..to be ...a woman"

The brunette with the smoky eye makeup catches my eye and bites her bottom lip , almost deliberate but maybe not ? My skin shivers although I know it's only getting hotter. I pout like it hurts, something almost quivers inside my spangled thong and I clench my legs tighter.
I can feel my pussy blossom like a salty orchid, exotic and wild. I close my eyes to her wanton lips, sliding my back down the pole. I try to keep my wandering thoughts focused on what move comes next, but she has different ideas. She's such a tease.

Seductively I rise back up the pole , gently offering my sequined crotch out there to be admired by the masses. My hands slide down my breasts with a knowing smile playing upon my lips, to the mystery girl across the room. The crowd is very appreciative of this "dance off" not really aware that we were almost performing a sexual mating dance for each other. I flex my slender legs around the golden pole and raise my crotch to her eye level as I contort into delicate backbend, spinning around the golden poles like I'm iceskating with an imaginary prince.
I like this movement as it means that I'm almost finished the routine and I can get back to working the room. I drown out blaring music and the jeering crowd as blood rushes to my head, I spin around the pole endlessly. What I see reminds me of the the Flinstones. Her face...Drinks...Punters...Palm tree..Her Face on the same reel , playing over and over long after I actually stop spinning.

I saunter down the catwalk, making eye contact with a regular client the whole way down.
I guess you could say.. For the first time I was somebody's favorite.

I don't overplay my sexuality but I let them know when I'm around. The night air sweats with the bass, dripping down from my peachy ass and running down my long legs as I finish my routine with some particularly athletic moves. I suck on the ice that still has lime pulp and traces of vodka and we face each other as we are buck naked on the stage, vacantly writhing out of messages of melancholy, never skip a beat. I was stripping because I'd had an abortion and sex was out of the question. I figured that I was already a professional dancer, and I could learn the rest. I felt different to the other strippers, they seem hard and warped with reality , love aint here tonight.

I never saw her again.
I wonder whatever happened to my smoky eyed wonder..

Yes, back in time
Esther used to be the kind of girl that you would never leave
She'd do anything to give me what I need for my disease
She'd do anything
I can hear them talking in the real world
But they don't understand that I'm happy in hell
With my heroin girl

Heroingirl - Everclear

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