mia loves henry miller

Letter 21 – Geishas, Burlesque Shows, Kindles for Christmas, and Another Erogenous Evening with Mr. B

“This is why dreams can be such dangerous things: they smolder on like a fire does, and sometimes they consume us completely.” —Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha “A mind troubled by doubt cannot focus on the course of victory” —Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

12/27/2011 9:06 a.m.

I started this letter days ago – before I quickly wrote and posted Letter 20 – writing a little bit here and there in between my busy schedule

Dear Henry Miller,

I’ve been at the loft the past few days, rehearsing my Geisha number for the big New Year’s Eve show coming up this Saturday. It’s a very complex, intricate number. The rehearsals have been long and tiring, but hopefully worth the effort. This is one of my signature numbers, and one of my favorite burlesque numbers to perform. I’ve been doing it for over five years, each time, revising and improving upon it. I have invested over $1,000.00 in costuming over the years – that doesn’t include all the fans and parasols, which need to be replaced frequently, due to hours of use during rehearsals. I’m grateful for my visits to NYC’s Chinatown, where I can purchase them cheaper in a variety of colors.

12/27/9:59 p.m.

I’m too tired to write. It’s too late to rehearse. I don’t think the people living below me like it when I drop my fans late at night. They clatter loudly upon the faux hardwood floor. I’m going to sleep, after I do the kit-kat shuffle between my bed sheets, using my favorite toy – my Hitachi Wand. Ah! Orgasms – such a sweet sedative. I want to get up early, refreshed and ready to rehearse. Tomorrow will be one of my last days to do so, perfecting the flips of my fans and parasols, without dropping them. I’m getting pretty good at it. I catch the fans and parasols about 95% of the time.

12/28/2011 7:16 a.m.

I’ve been up since 5 a.m. diligently rehearsing. My muscles in my arms are sore – my wrists and fingers hurt from flicking, flipping, and twirling the fans. My foot (which I had surgery on last year) aches like a bitch from standing on it for long hours. I’m trying my best to locate my oriental, black and gold corset and the bottom half to the last layer of my costume. I’ve searched all over the loft. I will take a look in storage before I leave tomorrow. I can only hope that I find it there or at my other home. I won’t be able to perform this number without it. I feel like I have gulped down a thousand butterflies, which nervously flutter in my gut. I must forget about my apprehension about my costume. I need all my focus and attention to perfect this number today. I must return to rehearsing…

12/30/2011 10:08p.m.

I’ve decided to drop my Geisha number. There’s no way I can perfect this number, and organize a huge burlesque show at the same time. I’m unable to find my oriental corset. I did locate the bottom half of the last layer of my costume, which I will use with my scarf performance. I’ve searched everywhere for my corset – still can’t find it. Lately, my rehearsals keep getting interrupted. It seems at very frequent intervals, I’m responding to texts or emails regarding the upcoming show. It’s difficult to regain my concentration – to get into the groove again with my flip of fans or parasols. I’m going to replace this number with my sheer scarf striptease. This is another one of my signature numbers. I’ve been doing it for a long time. I feel much more relieved! I must stop writing for now and concentrate on putting the show together.

1/1/12 9:30 a.m.

Happy New Year’s Henry!!! I can’t believe that I am up so early. Mr. C and I didn’t get home until well after 2 a.m. We had an awesome New Year’s Eve show. We had over twenty-one amazing acts on stage. Everyone performed with so much talent and high, creative energy! The audience screamed and applauded every act. We had singers, belly dancers, tap dancers and awesome musicians who use buckets for drums, classic and modern burlesque and boylesque acts, a male and female acrobat act, magic, an elegant pole dancer, an infamous escape artist and even two whip tease acts done by well known, Robert Dante and his assistant Mary. The venue was packed full of appreciative people! There were at least 500 people in the audience. I don’t know the exact count just yet.

The Illusionettes, is an all female, family magic act, which includes myself, my stepdaughter, and my stepson’s fiance. We opened up the show, wearing long, elegant gowns, with an all dove magic act choreographed to a new song by The Sounds of Blackness, Fly Again.” It’s truly an inspirational song – one of my favorites! One of our highly talented belly dancers used Isis wings and choreographed a beautiful, elegant dance as an intro and ending to our number. My doves, Emil, Valentine, Henry, and Vienna all seemed to love the stage! They were well behaved, and making love eyes to anyone in the dressing room who would give them attention.

All of my hard work putting this show together is finally behind me. Well, almost – I have to go to the venue early today to pick up the last bit of my show stuff. I’m relieved all the hard work is over! Every inch of my body aches this morning. I feel worn out, exhausted. I don’t know where I will find the energy to go to the venue to get my things. For now, I’ll enjoy the silence of the morning and write for a little bit, before I need to go. I have genuinely missed writing to you. You are all that I think about most of my days and nights. I want to write about my time with Mr. B. which we spent together, a few nights ago, before the memory becomes too vague.

“He sucked on her lips, he drew the life out of her into himself, and feeling his seed explode within her, heard her cry out.” –Anne Rice aka A.N. Roquelaure, The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty

This past Thursday, 12/29/2011, I took a long, luxurious, hot bath, before Mr. B arrived, reading and indulging in the water stained pages of Erica Jong’s book, Parachutes & Kisses. I love Isadora Wing! I also enjoy how sexually liberated Erica is with her words and phrases. I adore my bath time! I don’t think that there is anything better than self-indulging and pampering myself in my deep bath tub at the loft, which I have all to myself – no dogs barking, no doves cooing, no children interrupting, no husband to tend to – just sweet silence! The hotter the water, the better! My private bath time is at the top of my list for making me feel good, right below orgasms. I don’t have a big tub at my other home. I also don’t have an unlimited supply of hot water to withstand my long indulgences.

Mr. B arrived to the loft after six p.m. I had been rehearsing all day. My body felt rubbery, lazy, fatigued – my mind devoid of thoughts and hazy. I felt dizzy with drowsiness, as if walking inside a foggy dream. Seconds after I let Mr. B inside my loft, he vehemently grabbed me, quickly pushing me up against my door, his firm hand sternly gripping the base of my chin, his other hand firmly gripping the back of my long, black hair, tipping my head back, firmly pressing his hot lips onto mine. I was beginning to revive, as if a wilted flower had just been given water – my body warming up like a water heater that has just been turned on.

After, we went to my living – room, where we treated ourselves after a long day, smoking pot, as if it were a fine glass of vintage wine, near the fireplace, on my brown suede sofa. Our bodies closely cuddled together as soft curls of vaporous smoke drifted on the evening air after exhaling our hits. Shimmering slivers of the city glinted behind us, in between the long, off white vertical blinds in my loft. The sounds of lulling traffic hummed softly on University Avenue, sometimes car horns sounding in the distance, and occasionally the noise of an MTC bus rumbled by on the black tarred street, many stories below my penthouse loft. Sometimes we sipped upon a single, large, black, ceramic mug of steaming hot marijuana tea – our bodies relaxing, and our thoughts creatively flowing. Intimately, we engaged in a calm, fluid, flirtatious chatter, affectionately touching each other’s arm or knee as we conversed.

After awhile, I gave Mr. B my Christmas gift to him – two portraits, done with Sharpie and Prisma Color Markers, two of them of NYC, which I created for him. I didn’t find the time to purchase frames for them. Plus, the burlesque show eats up much of my budget. I generally give him art every year. He told me that really liked the subway portrait. I also showed him the unfinished portrait of NYC’s Hell’s Kitchen, which I am still working on. It was another one of his gifts. I require a few more days to finish it, after I get through this burlesque show.

1/1/12 12:14 p.m.

I must go to the venue to pick up the last bit of my stuff from last night’s show. I will write again when I return.

1/1/12 2:20 pm.

When I got dressed, a few hours ago, to go to the venue, a little shriek and a giggle slipped between my lips, when I saw that I still had my pasties on from last night. It took me forever to get the adhesive off my nipples – never go to bed with pasties on! I should Google the question, “What’s the best way to get glue off your nipples, after wearing pasties?” I wonder what will come up.

Back to my night with Mr. B.

“Nights of Beginnings, long babbling nights, constant revivals of desire, intertwining’s, murmured secrets, rapid shocks and fierce beating furies, Ariane submissive, altar and victim, sometimes clenching her teeth on her lover’s neck in a groaning bite.” –Albert Cohen

We eventually made it to the bedroom – every ounce of me relinquishing my will to my lover. I felt warm, relaxed, nurtured, entrusted and docile, lying on the bed, legs widely splayed, quietly observing Mr. B attach four, black leather cuffs to my arms and legs, tightly securing them to the four corners of my bed. It was a sublime, warm, sensual, highly salacious sensation – my mind slipping into the light stages of acquiescence. My perky breasts heaved up and down with ferment, my nipples stiff as stones, my skin, my senses, and my swollen slit, thirsting for attention – for soft strokes, hungry bites, lascivious licks, punishment, pleasure, as well as rough and soft caresses. My body relaxed with each slow, deep breath, my back arching with each touch of Mr. B’s hands – continuing to deeply inhale, and slowly exhale, falling under a hypnotic spell.

“His whole body was like a sensitive sponge, drinking, eating, absorbing with a million cells of curiosity. She felt caught in the immense jaws of his desire, felt herself dissolving, ripping open to his descent. She felt herself yielding up to his dark hunger, her feelings smoldering, rising from her like smoke from a black mass.” –Anais Nin, Aphrodisiac

Suddenly, I gasped, deeply sucking in lusty air. I felt pinching devices sweetly torture the swollen, lusty, pink, glistening flesh near my creamy slit. I greedily sucked in air again when Mr. B’s fingers plunged fathomlessly into me, one – two – three fingers, wiggling, curling, fucking – thrusting! My lascivious moans ricocheted off the bedroom walls, sultry sound waves lingering in the air – a million auditory atoms floating like tiny particles of dust. A rushing stream of hot liquid eddying around Mr. B’s vehement fingers – my arousal dripping down his hand like honey. My carnal pump was primed, my feverish body tingling with ardent heat, my toes curling with kinky – filthy pleasure, my eyes glazing over with utter bliss, rolling upwards towards the top of my head. I wanted to float in this euphoric realm for as long as I could – I dreamily think to myself, “If only I could make this amazing sensation last forever!”

We played for a long time, teasing, taunting, licking, sucking, fingering, stroking, swallowing, spanking, pinching, thrusting, twisting, tasting, pleasuring and fucking each other. The final stroke of Mr. B’s thrusting, stiff, hard rocket sparked an orgasmic blast off in my mind – a million stars dancing around my head like a dazed, cartoon character. After, we fell upon the bed, panting, our chests heaving, our mouths inhaling deeply for more air, our lips spreading upwards with two, huge, satisfied grins. Every inch of me radiated with erogenous heat – awakening my cells with zipping, hot, tingling amounts of surging energy. Life was good!

“Take me, take me, take my gifts and my moods and my body and my cries and my joys and my submissions and my yielding and my terror and my abandon, take all you want.” –Anais Nin, Aphrodisiac

After we recovered, still lying naked in bed, my arms and legs no longer fettered to my bed, Mr. B was demonstrating his sadistic side once more, handing me two, unwrapped, plain cardboard boxes – gifts secured tightly with several layers of clear, thick, packing tape. He sought pleasure in my frustration, attempting to open them – asshole! Mr. B finally helped me, laughing at my impatience to see what was inside them. Each box filled with trinkets, small, colorful Asian purses, beautiful, erotic post cards of oriental woman, and other miscellaneous oriental items, which appeared to have been purchased in NYC’s China Town, where Mr. B had recently been – he had to meet with his book agent in Manhattan. He even bought me a few pairs of sexy panties and something I didn’t expect – a Kindle, both gifts were wrapped nicely in festive, decorative paper and much less tape.

“We should read to give our souls a chance to luxuriate.” –Henry Miller

I’m a huge lover of books! There’s nothing better than being surrounding by a myriad of them, hardcover and paperbacks – bound pages, new or vintage, with creatively typed, picturesque words, as well as a colorful, well loved book covers. I especially love the smell of vintage books and the feel of a well loved, worn out paperback. I’m unsure if I can get accustomed to using a Kindle. I will do my best to keep an open mind. Mr. D, one of my close friends, who is also an avid book lover, really likes his Kindle. He’s had his for awhile and raves about it. Mr. B also likes his Kindle. I’m unsure if I’m willing to learn about using my Kindle, replacing my love for the feel of a real book in my hands.

It’s interesting to see how life progresses. I published an e-book of erotic poetry, Whispers from Venus, many years ago, with Renaissance e-books, when e-book publishing was very new. I was apprehensive about how well I’d sell my collection of poetry, publishing e-book versus print publishing. I had never heard of Kindles or Nooks back then. Today, e-books and e-book readers are a very popular piece of technology. Now, people have one with them, everywhere they go, and instant access to my book. I’m glad that I made the right choice. I’m still unsure if I’m ready to give into new technology just yet – especially when it comes to exchanging my love for books for a Kindle. I’ll let you know what I think; when I decide the time is right to use it.

1/1/12 9:12 p.m.

I’m exhausted Henry. I must end this letter. I still have a huge grin on my face and a great, thrilling rush inside me – still high from the success of last night’s show! A month ago, I was thinking of ending my burlesque show due to the amount of work, time, and expense it takes to run this production. I have to believe that the positive and financial benefits of my hard work are just around the corner. I must hang on. I’ve been producing my show for a long time, perfecting my show with each production, with the help of so many people. It keeps getting better and better. I am truly proud of what I have created and all the performers I’ve brought together, to form such a wonderful, talented family.

Good night Henry!

Much love,

Mia

“He ate her as if she were something he wanted to possess inside of his body like a fuel. He ate her as if she were a food he needed for daily sustenance. She threw everything into the jaws of his desire and hunger. Threw all she had known, experienced and given before.” –Anais Nin, Aphrodisiac