It was Saturday night, about a week after the infamous feather boa incident with Ginger. I entered the club through the back entrance and headed towards the dressing room. Ginger was talking to a few of the girls, obviously bragging about something. I said “Hi” to the girls and gave Ginger a particularly sarcastic “Hello” as well. She was still mad about the whole thing but tried to hide it with a rather fake smile. I laughed softly to myself and went to my vanity.
I was starring in the headlining act tonight. It was going to be a solo burlesque number set to an obscure song from the mid 1940’s. Many people think that burlesque is simply another word for striptease but there is much more to it. Sure, there is an element of striptease but the whole thing is much classier and more showy than what you’ll find in a road side strip joint. I was going to start slow, in time with the music, wearing a lavish outfit I had put together myself.
The secret to a good burlesque outfit is having a few different layers that will come off at key points in the act. Tonight I was starting with a red ruffle coat which flowed down to my ankles and covered the rest of the outfit. Underneath that I was wearing a sexy red sequin burlesque dress that almost showed off more than it covered up. I had the dress modified to come off easily and underneath that I had a custom made set of lingerie that really made the jaws drop. I topped it all off with an amazing red feather headdress which was going to stay on throughout the entire act.
I finished my makeup and put together my outfit right as one of the stage hands came in to tell me I had 10 minutes to curtain. I passed Ginger on the way out and the look she gave me was so nasty it could’ve attracted flies. I waited backstage as the butterflies started flying around in my stomach. It’s an odd feeling, standing back there waiting to do a solo number, it’s a mixture of nervousness and exhilaration that all culminates in the greatest high imaginable.
I found my mark on the stage, took a deep breath and waited for the curtain to rise. The act unfolded exactly as we had rehearsed it. It started slow and the audience was quiet as I began to sing and work the stage. Everyone was enraptured except for one well dressed, particularly handsome, man sitting alone at a table near the back. He was watching the show but he kept glancing down at a small notepad which he was writing in. I thought that he might be a reviewer but they’re usually dressed quite poorly and are obviously fans of drag. I finished up the number flawlessly and gathered up my outfit when the curtain went down. I kept thinking about that man with the notepad as I headed back to the dressing room. I wonder what he was up to.
charismaticdance 