There are moments in the buzz of the gaudy, feverish chill of backstage where everything just slows down. You can almost taste the anticipation, a heady cocktail that's one part curiosity, one part fear, and two parts control. Control, now there's a funny word. In the world of burlesque, control is the name of the game, but it isn't about manipulation. It's about storytelling. It's about taking the audience on a wild dance of intrigue, not with mere physicality, but with that precious art of showing just enough to pique curiosity, then withholding just as much. The key is in the timing. Understanding when to reveal, when to obscure, when to drive the narrative and when to let the audience stitch together their own xxx linklist of fantasies. You're not just a performer, you are, in equal parts, a conductor and an orchestral piece. It's almost like a conversation, a raucously intimate and playful banter between the performer and the audience. It’s an electric exchange of senses and sensibilities, a dance of shared secrets and whispered curiosities. In the end-stage twilight of my burlesque career, I no longer simply seek the thrill of the performance, the intoxicating rush of applause, those shared moments of laughter or gasps of surprise. Now, it's more about exploring that continued dialogue between my persona and the audience, unfurling the unknown layers of their curiosity, and carefully moulding it into an intimate understanding. It's like watching a beautiful art piece come to life, one that I am part of, but ultimately does not fully belong to me. The audience are my co-creators, and that's the beauty of it. No two nights are ever the same. That's the irresistible allure of the burlesque, the strangely comforting chaos, the undulating dance of control and curiosity.