self love on valentine's day.

     I'm single.

     Which usually isn't a problem!  On the contrary, I love single life.  I have a vibrant group of friends, and have a fulfilling life creatively, and sexually.  But it's Valentine's Day, and one is likely to feel a little lonely.  Too complicated for a "friend with benefits" type date, and the single group is busy with other, unrelated things.  Ho hum.

     I should do something.  I should go out.  Let's look through the events for this weekend.  I want to do something just for me.  Let's make Valentine's a self-love fest this year!  Something immediately catches my eye.  A burlesque show.  Yes!  I've always wanted to go to one.  Or put on one, myself, to be honest.  Perfect.  I'm excited!  I don't hesitate to call and preorder a ticket.

   The venue is understated from the outside, but when I walk through the door, I find that it's anything but.  Red velvet curtains drape the walls, vintage settees and chaise lounges line the perimeter, and a glorious crystal chandelier with pink hued bulbs hangs at the lobby's centre.  The energy is similarity electric, with the buzz of excited conversation.  I've adorned a small vintage hat for the occasion, and am pleased to see that many other women have done their version of the same.  I see beautiful brooches, fur stalls, and ravishing red lips.  If it weren't for the glimpse of a cell phone every now and then, you could easily believe you have just entered another time and place.  Just then, an elegant woman parts a curtain, revealing the theatre.  The throbbing mass turns toward her, eager to have their ticket taken.  I take out a compact, and powder my nose.  I catch myself in the mirror, and smile at my escort for this extraordinary evening.  I take my seat, as the curtain rises.

    The MC is a fantastically flamboyant man, dressed in a stylish suit, topped with a hat and cane.  He introduces a veteran performer as the opening act, called, "Vivien Diamond".  Appropriately so, she arrives draped in sparkling jewels, to a sexy saxophone solo.  Her gown glistens, and so does her voice.  It's a traditional fifties floor show, to the classic song, "Take Back Your Mink".  She explains that she "isn't one of those girls" who can be bought with fancy things like furs and jewellery, all the while stripping them off and throwing them off the stage.  She gives him back her necklace, bracelets, earrings, and soon her mink, gloves, and dress.  She performs the last verse standing in her lovely lace teddy and thigh high stockings.  She is all confident, all classy, all woman.  What a great way to celebrate femininity, and sexuality.

     There is a woman that spins tassels on her breasts and from her hips, one that eats and spits fire, and a duo act, again performing a classic, "Sisters", only much more naughty.  These girls are definitely not sisters.  Along with the MC delivering stand up comedy throughout, the show is fun, sexy, and vivacious.  Thinking that the show must be wrapping up soon, I start to get my things together, but the next act stops me short.  As far as finales go, this one is shamelessly simplistic.  A woman, in a bathtub.  The tub is transparent, probably made of plastic or plexiglass, but the water is cloudy with bubbles, so we can't see her figure quite yet.  Only the beginning of the curve of a breast, and her silky smooth legs and feet propped up at the other end.  Her blonde head of shiny, wavy hair hangs off the side.  It strikes me as very burlesque-like, the way there's just a hint of skin, a suggestion of what's underneath.   I wonder if she really is nude; it being very taboo to perform these types of shows without nipple covers or a tiny thong.  I find myself wanting what I see, and wanting to see more.  I want to breathe in her bouncy hair, kiss her crimson painted toes.  I want to behold her creamy breasts, the curve of her hips, her seductive snatch.  There is no music, and as a result, appears shockingly intimate, as if you are spying on her.  After a moment of watching her, relaxed and almost motionlessly in the tub, I self consciously move in my seat, and find that I am a little wet, between my legs.  I smile, and blush a little crimson.  The desired effect, no doubt.  The crowd stays hushed, and I adjust my breath, so that I am not making any noise, either.  A few whispers are heard; someone stifles a cough.  Just then, she moves, with a flourish.  She sits up in the tub, turned away from us, her crown of hair cascading down her back for a quick moment.  She then flicks it, the curls fanning out to her left and landing softly at her shoulder, exposing her naked back.  Audible gasps.  She is beautiful; a goddess mermaid nymph, and we are begging to see her.  She washes, and quietly hums.  Her arms, and under them, down her sides, around her back.  I am as wet and slippery as the soap that glides over her.  In the dark of the theatre, I venture to touch myself over my skirt.  I look around cautiously and put my purse on my lap, while I hike up the hem, and reach underneath.  I am in the bathtub with her, submerged in suds to my hips, warm and wet.  She arches her back in response, as if she was the one I touched.  She leans backward, gracefully out stretching her goddess leg, and sliding her hands up and down it.  Her foot points delicately; her fairy toes dance joyously.  She fills a goblet, and rinses by its waterfall.  We watch the water cascade down her curves; her dips and valleys.  The sound of her humming is relaxing, hypnotic, and my hand moves as if under a spell, or in a trance.  My eyes roll back, I feel light headed, as if the waters too hot.  The number ends with a backlight, and we see her silhouette stand, and towel off.  Blackout.  We applaud, and the house lights come up.


     I buzz all the way home.  And she continues to guide my hand, later that night, as well.  Happy Valentine's to me!