Post by Noa Reese on Dec 6, 2013 4:26:18 GMT -5
Noa hadn't performed in... a while. She hadn't really been feeling up to it, to be honest. But after going out drinking with Zach, she'd suggested he come see her, so she really had to get back into the swing of things before he actually took her up on that offer - if he ever did. She'd plucked up one of her old ideas, fleshed it out into a full routine, and spent the next week perfecting it until she was approved to perform.
And it had gone spectacularly, if she did say so herself.
The audience had known their burlesque etiquette enough to prompt a number of saucy looks from the redhead, and god had she enjoyed it. The catcalls, the whistles, the hollering - all just tokens of admiration. It was a powerful feeling, being objectified. Especially in this weather, where bundling up made her feel anything but sexy; it felt great to have an audience full of people telling her otherwise.
Then again, her song choice had been especially good. Who could resist A Call from the Vatican?
So, after a set full of cooing and pouting and teasing galore (who's not wearing any clothes? Yup, that'd be Noa), she sent a glance over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, kicking a heel up as she exited, hips swaying tantalizingly in the adorably ruffled panties she'd been outfitted in. She may not be much for full-on dancing, but she was certainly at home parading around in lingerie and performing suggestive choreography. She was hoping she could bring the number back once she had a better grasp on the vocals and perhaps lend her own sultry voice to the track. The lyrics certainly were fun, even if she'd had to adapt the choreography for a multi-layered costume and the stage at the House. So worth it.
On a slight performance high, already added to her excitement at being back, Noa didn't head backstage to change into something more suitable after she exited. Instead, she just pulled back on the extra layers she'd stripped off, threw on her hoodie and shoulder bag, and snuck to the back of the theater to see what came next.
She probably looked a bit odd; legs clad in sheer black thigh-high stockings, the garters disappearing under the dusty pink skirt that matched her heels, with the stunningly bedazzled bodice (which was really a stunningly bedazzled half-corset and matching bra) hidden under a very plain black sweatshirt. The pale skin between stockings and skirt practically glowed in the low light of the room. But, actually, this didn't feel all that unusual for Noa. She'd worn far more revealing things. She never even got down to pasties here. Comparably, it could be considered tame.
Pulling her bottled water from her bag, she stood toward the very back of the audience, watching as the stage was set for the next act.
And it had gone spectacularly, if she did say so herself.
The audience had known their burlesque etiquette enough to prompt a number of saucy looks from the redhead, and god had she enjoyed it. The catcalls, the whistles, the hollering - all just tokens of admiration. It was a powerful feeling, being objectified. Especially in this weather, where bundling up made her feel anything but sexy; it felt great to have an audience full of people telling her otherwise.
Then again, her song choice had been especially good. Who could resist A Call from the Vatican?
So, after a set full of cooing and pouting and teasing galore (who's not wearing any clothes? Yup, that'd be Noa), she sent a glance over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, kicking a heel up as she exited, hips swaying tantalizingly in the adorably ruffled panties she'd been outfitted in. She may not be much for full-on dancing, but she was certainly at home parading around in lingerie and performing suggestive choreography. She was hoping she could bring the number back once she had a better grasp on the vocals and perhaps lend her own sultry voice to the track. The lyrics certainly were fun, even if she'd had to adapt the choreography for a multi-layered costume and the stage at the House. So worth it.
On a slight performance high, already added to her excitement at being back, Noa didn't head backstage to change into something more suitable after she exited. Instead, she just pulled back on the extra layers she'd stripped off, threw on her hoodie and shoulder bag, and snuck to the back of the theater to see what came next.
She probably looked a bit odd; legs clad in sheer black thigh-high stockings, the garters disappearing under the dusty pink skirt that matched her heels, with the stunningly bedazzled bodice (which was really a stunningly bedazzled half-corset and matching bra) hidden under a very plain black sweatshirt. The pale skin between stockings and skirt practically glowed in the low light of the room. But, actually, this didn't feel all that unusual for Noa. She'd worn far more revealing things. She never even got down to pasties here. Comparably, it could be considered tame.
Pulling her bottled water from her bag, she stood toward the very back of the audience, watching as the stage was set for the next act.