It was the first bachelor party I’d ever attended. Having heard my share of horror stories surrounding these epic, testosterone-filled, porn-fests, I was prepared for the worst. My corset was cinched tight to avoid any wardrobe mishaps, I was wearing the 4″ pumps as opposed to the six, in case I had to make a speedy exit, and the skirt was just long enough to impede any wondering eyes from discerning the color of the thong I was wearing. I waited anxiously in the back bedroom for my cue to enter. The host wanted my performance to be somewhat of a surprise. I’d never done anything like this before. I was nervous. Would the men enjoy it? Could I take this all the way or would I stumble over the naughty bits, eventually running from the party, head held down in shame? But the longer I sat there, the more I began to anticipate the rush of performing. I’d done far more than what I was about to do and in front of more than the fifteen or so men assembled in the next room.
I channeled my alter ego. She’s the sexier personality; lithe and confident. When she is allowed to look through my eyes, everything takes on a sultry, sensual glow. Having her in the driver’s seat put my confidence in over drive. Just in time, there was a knock on the door signaling it was time for my turn in the spot light. My entrance into the room caused the men to quiet. The strippers who had appeared before me were resting comfortably on various laps. You could feel the curiosity in the air. I sat demurely on the stool sitting in the center of the room. All eyes on me, I sat up straight, back slightly arched to put the tops of my breasts on display. Legs crossed to tease the men closest to me who were hoping for a peak under my skirt. I cleared my throat, and introduced myself.
“Good evening. My name is Ana Michaels and I’m here to read you a few bed time stories.” Eyebrows were raised, questions bubbled up from throats. Before they could be asked, I looked the bachelor in the eye, “Don’t worry. These won’t be your typical tales of damsels in distress, and I’m sure you won’t want to fall asleep.” I uncrossed my legs. The men quieted almost immediately. “But you’ll certainly want to get into bed.” A knowing smile as I opened the book to my first selection of the evening.
“This first story, well, poem I guess, is for the groom.” I looked him straight in the eye, arching my back again, just a bit more. The strippers performance had left the men aroused. My slightest move held them captive, in hopes of more exposed flesh. But I was there to tease them in a different way. I began reading, “His Fantasy,” from my erotica collection, Satin Sheet Memoirs, Volume 1. I read each word, accentuated with movement because I know how visual men can be. Not a word was uttered during my reading, although you could hear the occasional sharp intake of breath as a nerve was aroused.
And that’s how Sensual Expressions was born. I went on to read two additional pieces that night. Each met with the same lustful attention. I was complimented, tipped, asked to talk about my writing. I didn’t have to remove any clothing although I did indulge one listener with a quick flash of the thong. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time when I shifted my weight on the stool. I sold three books that night and garnered a second booking for another bachelor party. Same situation, same reactions. Sold five books at the second party and decided that yes, I really could read my erotic writing out loud, in front of people, wearing little more than my underwear. Not a bad way to make a living if I do say so myself.
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