“So, last night the three of us
Burlicious beauties performed at a private party. Shoehorned into a teeny space
we gave them three great showgirl routines and then taught our beginners'
routine to a heaving, giggling mass of women and one lovely man. A sweaty and
superb time was had by all.
Afterwards, I was chatting to a man who had watched with interest
throughout.
"My aunt was a showgirl at the Windmill Club" he said.
"Oh," says I, "how interesting."
"Yes," he replied. "So, I know all about your.... " [significant pause for emphasis while his eyes slowly traveled up and down the full length of my body as I stood there in my corset and fishnets] "... profession."
Well, really! What COULD he mean?!
It's not as if you can BUY this kind of well-matured and prime vintage womanhood, you know. The cheek of it! 😀"
That post struck a perfect chord with last night’s class in which we launched a brand new routine. All the usual ingredients were there – misdirection (mainly me); missteps (see misdirection for cause); misbehaving boas; laughter; swearing (almost entirely me); and bemused and amused gentle befuddlement.
Also in evidence was delicious, perfect and prime womanhood, and a bloomin’ professional-looking troupe getting swiftly to grips with the routine. This, showgirls, could develop to be another winner of a routine, suitable for future performance.
Yours, getting ready for our “penguin” move next week,
Burlicious x
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