I got this...okay not really

My fiancé and I went to see a one woman show at the Rotunda in University City Philadelphia. I love the Rotunda because they have a variety of shows and educational programs suited to people from all walks of life. Tonight’s program was a one woman show talking about her life as a phone sex worker. It was interesting she even had a Q&A at the end.

In the entry way of the Rotunda there’s a table covered in business cards, flyers and post cards advertising various shows and events around the tristate area. This is where I found out about two events that would change my life as a writer. The first was a calendar for the Rotunda announcing that the very next night there was a story reading. Without hesitation I told my fiancé that I wanted to see this performance.

The second was a post card that read S~T~E~A~M~Y in bold fancy letters then below that “The Erotic Literary Salon” along with the events information. I was immediately intrigued since in my humble opinion most open mic’s for writers or poets end up being emo-dumping sessions. Not that that’s a bad thing we all need catharsis, but there’s more to me than my trauma and as a writer/performer I love the opportunity to share those other aspects of myself. I’ll come back to the other reasons why this card was important later in the story.

Now as I said I thought it was simply a story reading not a contest. We didn’t find out until J and I got to the front door to check in. Once inside there was a sign-in sheet and next to that a sheet for contest participants to sign up with the prizes listed at the bottom. The list made me grin. Adult themed toys and accessories provided by Passional Boutique. Passional is well known for everything from sex toys and lingerie to fetish wear and other BDSM paraphernalia as well as sex education classes about any and everything sex related you can think of.

The theme for the night was “What I didn’t know was,” it had to be a true story told from memory and you only had like 5 minutes to finish the story. At first I wasn’t going to compete but my fiancé was having none of that. He hyped me up telling me how good of a writer I am etc. Unconvinced I rolled my eyes so he pulled out the big guns and told me that if I entered the contest he would too. You could’ve bought me with a barrel of crab apples and six wooden nickels’. I couldn’t wait to hear the story he would tell. Despite the fact that he was only four months and one day older than me he’d been way more sexually experiences.

We took our seats and sat through the first half of the contestants stories. Some of them were pretty good others not so much. Although I’m sure for most of them the issue was stage fright and more than a little embarrassment. There was no alcohol to grease inhibitions so you had to get on stage sans liquid courage in front of a bunch of strangers and expose your naughty’s to the room at large and be judged on top of it.

My heart lurched every time the M.C. said “And next up is,” then sunk back into my stomach when the name called wasn’t mine. Relieved I would take a deep breath and rub over my pounding heart. J would pat my leg or rub my arm seeing that I was working myself up. That would calm me down a bit then frustration would seep in to my brain as I’m reminded that now I would have to wait through yet another story and contestant selection. Talk about nerve wracking.

The latest contestant finished their story the M.C. told a few risqué jokes about the tale just recited then announced intermission. I wanted to throw something but I was too eager to get the hell out of that room before they changed their minds.

J and I had stood in the little courtyard in front of the Rotunda deciding where we were going to eat and make it back before the second part of the competition started. While we bickered the M.C./judge walked up to us. She’d mentioned remembering us from her one woman show performance the previous night. Then asked where she could grab a quick bite in the area. Throughout this entire exchange J did all the talking.

Finally she’d gotten around to asking if either of us were contestants, my fiancé said that I was. The woman (it was over ten years ago so I don’t remember her name anymore sorry) turns to me and starts asking me questions about my upcoming performance. I saw that her lips moved but to my panic addled brain she’d sounded like the grown-ups from the peanuts cartoons. Whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp.

My mouth had opened but not a single syllable left my throat. Not my name, or that I was born and raised in Philly, or that I’ve been writing since my Green eggs and ham days in elementary school, nada. It was bad. I mean if someone had come up to us with a 45 and said tell her your name or I’m gonna shoot your boyfriend, he would’ve died that night cause I was frozen solid. After a minute or so minutes my boyfriend and the MC realized that I really wasn’t going to talk so he took over. Telling the MC how talented a writer I was, how sweet and sexy my voice was etc. She smiled and nodded “Well good luck, I’ll see you inside,” the M.C. said then left. I was so humiliated I nearly cried feeling like such a freak.

It would have been easier if I’d been born a leper then at least people could see I was afflicted and not think I’m just some rude random weirdo chick that thinks she’s too good to talk to anybody. I’d whined at J as we’d walked back from McDonalds. He assured me that the MC was a professional and had seen stage fright before and didn’t think I was a freak or weirdo. That I would nail it on stage and to stop worrying. I’m sure it helped I know his belief in me did.

I swear the MC chose me next just to see if I would choke on stage. Now that’s not to say that my future husbands’ high praise had nothing to do with stoking her curiosity. Or it could have just been a coincidence and I was next on their list anyway. Whichever way the cosmos had set it into motion my name was called and I headed up to the stage.

I looked out at the thirty or so people sitting in plastic folding chairs surrounding the stage. I could feel their eyes boring into me curious maybe even a little judgmentally as they applauded for me politely. Ironically being on stage felt good reminiscent of my late teens performing shows with my friends.

It’s funny the things you remember after not being on stage for ten years. Like the stage lights, I’d forgotten just how hot those freakin’ things get. I literally felt like I was melting as sweat beaded on my face, making rivulets along my spine. Fear crowded me, whispered to me in a taunting voice RUN RUN RuuuuN. I take the microphone in my hand it feels good there like I’m holding a powerful scepter. The stage lights glint off the silver mesh of the mic’s head, glittering as if it were infusing me with a magic meant to calm that held my panic on the fringes of my being.

I took a deep breath scanned the room once opened my mouth and words came out. I would have been shocked my darn self but I was too wrapped up in the memory. In my mind’s eye I could see myself so young shy and uncertain letting myself get swept away in urges and the directions of the two bold personalities of my partners for the evening.

I could feel the audience’s mood shift as my voice changed becoming husky and soft ensnaring their imaginations pulling them into the tale with me. The way she responded. How big he felt cradling my body guiding me every step of the way. The symphony we three created in our moments of selfless giving and exploration.

When I’m on stage time warps those few minutes flying by at a snail’s pace and I’m done before I know it. I’m startled when the absolute quiet of the room is disturbed by the judges’ cellphone alarm blaring alerting us that my time was up. They were so engrossed I got an extra two minutes to finish the story of my first time with a woman.

When I was finished I got a round of applause from all three judges and the entire audience. Grinning happily I thanked them then returned to my seat. The MC took the mic from me talked about my unexpected performance. Naturally they called on my fiancé next. I swear we hadn’t planned it, pointedly didn’t talk about the story we would share for the contest. J got up and told the same story from his point of view. I’m not gonna lie the way it played out was fire. It was my turn to sit in the audience blushing and reminiscing as he told his version of those beatific moments.

The remaining contestants took their turns at the mic. I’m not gonna front by the time it got down to the last two contestants I was feeling a little cocky about my chances of taking home the first place prize. Still I sat and listened fascinated by the diverse tales from a myriad of love styles. After the last storys told the audience is given ballads to vote for their favorite. Followed by a five minute break while the judges conferred. While I was cocky in my head my fiancé was very vocal that I was the best one that night and I was a shoe in to win first prize.

We take our seats they announce the winners. After giving props to everyone that participated the M.C. started with audience favorite which wasn’t me actually. Followed by first place who was yours truly. Second place was my fiancé and third place was another lady. There were rumbles that we both shouldn’t have won, that we rigged presentation etc. I was a little offended. It had taken a lot for me to get up on stage and perform especially when I’d just shared things that I’d never talked about with anyone except my future hubby and the lady that shared that night with us. Then I thought who cares let them hate I was the one taking home the glass rose massager with leather case along with two bags full of fun grown up stuff from Passional’s.

As the auditorium cleared out some folks lingered to talk, congratulate, and discuss how affected we’d all been by the very stimulating stories shared that evening.

Now remember earlier in I said this event changed my literary life. One of the judges was Dr. Susana Mayer the creator/M.C. of The Erotic Literary Salon (E.L.S.) Dr. Mayer not only invited me to read at the next salon she also invited me to contribute to her book. Sensensual 2 an anthology of erotica from writers from E.L.S. I was so excited don’t ask me how I didn’t burst right then and there. Once that book was published I would be an Author and not just a writer. I nearly cried gushing to my fiancé high off the nights triumphs as we went home.