Scepter Magazine

Lingerie used to be an art. It induced lust and sensuality as opposed to mocking it. Now girls leave their homes leaving nothing to the imagination and therefore no fun for the bedroom. Intrigue has always been an essential part of sex until the recent decades when it has become more prevalent to be blatant, ultimately boring. Why take the wit and kitsch out of sex? It seems to me the entire point of non-marital sex is to not take it too seriously, which would make you Mormon. Though I doubt our post-Madonna, Britney Spears generation will put it away anytime soon. I am not advocating sexual repression mind you, just suggesting you put a little work into it. Benefits reaped are so much more satisfying earned. I am all for women’s sexual revolution, all I am saying is a hetero girl’s personal style should not be for men it should be for herself. Laying yourself out like a sushi platter at a bar attracts men who do not want to work for it, which means he will not want to work for it anywhere else . . . catch my drift.

            So to celebrate the nuances of sensuality and the art of covering up if just to have something to uncover, my friend Katie and I get together the third Saturday of every month for a burlesque porn night. After hitting the porn room at Wild and Wooly we retire to my apartment donning our best Bettie Page inspired pointy bras and corsets. Some nights its leather S&M, others it is 60’s cave girl in animal prints, very Prehistoric Women. After we have cinched our waists to a waspy 20 inches we fill our flutes with a deluge of pink bubbling champagne and begin our marathon of hot curvy women go-go dancing or whipping each other. We purr to each other in deep baritone (that’s man voice to you Andy) and take inspiration from the films for our reenactments in the wee small hours of the morning, when the haze of pink champagne has fallen over our eyes. All I will say is a good hostess always keeps ball-gags on hand. Ah, the rising of the dawn leaves the night but a fleeting fancy. There remain only spike stilettos askew along the wall and maybe a peek of lace from that notorious bottom left hand drawer. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend.

By Nicole