pelvic thrusting & nurse outfits

Threw Ant’s hen’s party on Saturday.

After weeks of carefully integrated hyper-organisation, it’s always good to see it all come together.

In a cataclysmic display of Ant dressed up as a tart, while having a lapdancing teacher gyrating on top her.

We dressed Ant up as a slutty nurse (she should’ve been a doctor, so this worked well), and had a lapdancer come and teach us how to, basically, have sex with a chair.

Which is fitting, as many of us** appreciate any tips in the inanimate object shagging department.

Knowing how to turn a chair on is a very useful skill to have. If, like me, you aren’t dating anyone [in this country.]

Started with a high tea, all billowy and country-like, complete with tiered cupcake trays, and cucumber sandwiches. Ant loves her tea, and besides her Nona – the Italian matriarch in the form of her grenadmother – wasn’t going to stick around for the kinky stuff. Or was she?

Nona hung around, also moving her hips, for the lapdancing session, which was a treat for the eyes, let me ya. Ant’s Italian aunt’s, cousins and grandmother were the feistiest of the lot. Proclaiming ‘Mama mia!’ – I swear to God – as they did so.

We played the obligatory bachelorette games, which involved a trolley load of sex shop consumables as prizes, most with batteries included.

Took a London cab to dinner at Fino’s and then headed to Tokyo Star to break an egg on the dancefloor. I don’t club anymore. This much was evident, in that I wore a sundress and head scarf to Tokyo Star, looking like I’d just stepped out from high tea, which I had.

Going to clubs in Joburg is something foreign to me these days. As I stepped in, murmuring ‘hello old life,’ I realised that I had missed it. Even.
Making shapes on a dance floor in inappropriate anti-scoring gear is helluva fun. If only I had the energy to go out dancing more often really.

Someone even slapped my bum. No kidding, seriously?

Either way Ant seemed to have a good day, so that’s good.
I’m preparing for a trip to London and France in March. To help my efforts to move. The work – back to the real world – doesn’t end.

** me and/or single ladies.