Flesh for Fantasy: Scandalesque and Xtreme Fashion at PHX nightclub burn.
Come on baby, light my fire: Burlesque Baroness Pyra Sutra at burn nightclub. See more babeage on parade in this Scandalesque slideshow.
Starry, starry night. Not the sappy Don McLean tune of yore. Starry night's what they call the shots I've been pounding at downtown's new burn nightclub: a mix of Goldschlager and Jagermeister. It's as if a golden-throated whore spat her cinnamon-flavored saliva down my esophagus. They say Goldschlager's gold flakes are somehow salubrious. I hope so. I've already had about six of these things, with vodka chasers.
Writhing on the floor before me is the inimitable Pyra Sutra of the PHX burlesque troupe Scandalesque, her booful new bazooms bouncing free of any restraint. Said she paid a mint for 'em. Looks like it. They're firm, well-shaped, but with enough jiggle to allow for the illusion they're real. Works of art you'd give good money to caress. Alas, Pyra ain't that kind of gal, but you do get to eyeball those flesh puppies a couple of times during Scandalesque's Wednesday eve at burn. During one segment Pyra's slinging globules of fire on a chain. A tassel is inadvertently loosened and we briefly gaze upon her fully unsheathed bosom. Yes, there is a God, and he practices plastic surgery.
At the moment, however, Pyra's pasties are secure as she kicks up her heels during part of a feather-dance duet with Lady Fontayne. The choreography is as impeccable as Pyra's ivory-white glutes, and equally marvelous to behold. The crowd twice erupts into cheers.
There are other bits featuring the four women in various combos. In one, Lady Fontayne dons a shimmering gold mini-dress for a Dreamgirls-like number. Russian princess Naughty Niki-ta manipulates a series of steel hoops with her tiny body, and Peek-a-Boo Pixie prances en pointe while juggling several sheer kerchiefs. The show ends Vegas-style, with the gals in glittery feathers, kicking high with such force that I'm nearly coldcocked by a flying foot as I try to snap a few pics.
Afterwards, the burnished bartop becomes a makeshift catwalk for gals from Xtreme Fashion Entertainment. The theme is Alice in Wonderland, and I swear one of the chicks is on the edge of diving headfirst into a field of liquor bottles. Lawsuit city, baby. Not this night, but could be in the future. If they're not careful, one of these models might end up owning the joint. My fave of the femmes is the White Rabbit played by Priscilla Molina, a precious pecan-skinned lass of 21. (Hard to be ugly at that age.) Also in attendance as Queen of Hearts is my pal Lauren, who I haven't seen in many moons. She weilds a large, silvery axe, and looks like she knows how to use it.
The show's at an end, but there are still slender young beauties about, their bodies being painted by graf artist Sikste (pronounced "sixty"). Nice job if you can get it. What Sikste does, I mean. I saunter back to the bar, order one more starry night and watch what's left of the crowd. They say they do this every Wed. night. If so, I reckon I'll be back.
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