Dead pointe shoes heavily scented with estrogenic sweat
Pay-back fantasies: For those members who want a ballet fantasy with their intimate encounter Splash offers T-Gs clad in a thong back tutus (for ease of penetration from the rear) in small private ballet studios with mirror and barre to help the client work out his frustrations. This is the environment that Gigi excels in since she has so much ballet training and the pelvic muscles of her velvet vice are already becoming so well known that repeat clients now think of her as ‘pussy en pointe’. She loves helping them through energetic intimate ballet workouts to expel their mental demons and exhaust their sexual frustrations even if the relief is only temporary.
So many men seem to have an amazing amount of anger they have been carrying for ages, often from their teen years when they couldn’t get the girl they wanted. You know the one I mean. The girl with the long, long legs, in the sheer tights, the thong bottom tutu and Capezio toe-shoes, who was student body president and who danced the Dying Swan at a school program that had every boy 14 or older trying to conceal a boner after watching her bourrées and développés. The girl he lusted after so badly he got blue balls in history class just from sitting in the same room with her. You know the sort of girl I mean, the one who dated the captain of the football team and was on the pill since she was 15 so her partners didn’t have to wear a condom. The one who didn’t know he was alive even though (in his mind) he had tried to talk to her but was so in awe of her he could hardly say his name much less carry on a conversation. If you asked he would tell you he tried to think of a way to steal one of her used tampons then found she used pads as well on her heavy days to prevent leaks during the exertion of pointe class. So he raided the girl’s bathroom and scrounged through the sanitary napkin bin, but never could tell which of the bloody pads and tampons was hers. If you asked when he was drunk he would tell you that he ended up taking them all and the blood and mucus stank unbelievably for a few weeks as it rotted in the pads and absorbent cotton plugs in his room at home and his mom wanted to know what the stench was and he told her it was a science experiment, which in a weird way I suppose it was.
Portrait of an obsession: He was so obsessed by the girl he wanted so badly and couldn’t have that he finally had to settle for dumpster diving to recover something he could be certain had belonged to her and he found it, a dead pair of her Capezio Contempora pointes from her ballet school’s dumpster. He was fortunate then to find that the pair were tied together by their ribbons and had her name in ballpoint on the soles so he knew they were hers. If asked he would tell you that he remembered finding that pair of her toe-shoes 20 years ago as though it happened yesterday. He would tell you that pair of her Capezios were still damp and smelled of her sweat, liniment, rosin and perfume. They still had the ribbons and elastics on them and the soles, platforms and backs were covered with stage grime and powdered rosin. The satin on the blocks had been cut away for traction and the canvas, paper and paste of the platforms were shredded and soft from wear and they were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen! But to him the most amazing thing of all was that there was still the cotton padding in the toe boxes and the cotton in the right shoe was stained brown with her dried blood! If asked he would remember marveling at that thinking no one as lovely and accomplished as that girl could possibly bleed, though he had heard that pointe work was painful and sometimes a dancer’s toes bled.
Pointe worship: And so, for the next 20 years those pink satin Capezios the satin now badly faded had formed the centerpiece of an altar to the goddess of dance, Terpsichore, at which he worshiped and would pay homage to her shoes which he had come to see as the epitome of female erotica because they combined beauty of design as well as the best aspects of bondage having her feet bound with wide satin ribbons into shoes that were very painful when the woman was en pointe (or so he fantasized) while showing the wearer’s feet and legs to their best advantage and tightening her pelvic muscles so that en pointe she was unbelievably tight during sexual intercourse. In homage to such erotic footwear he would masturbate in their presence least once a day when he wasn’t traveling.
Feeding an obsession: A man affected that way needs a periodic shoe fix and often if he can dates dancers for their shoes because pointes bought new, unless he has someone to break them in for him, have only potential and no real character – or so he thinks – because they haven’t been sweated and bled in and have no signs of loving customization that makes worn pointes an extension of the dancer herself. He will beg, buy or steal them if necessary from the women he dates. And, occasionally he will find a dancer who didn’t think him too weird when he asked her to balance en pointe bent over a table or the practice barre in her apartment so he could penetrate her doggie style. Every few weeks he needs additional recently worn pointes to get the scent of a woman’s feet, her sweat and perhaps there is just the tiniest whiff of her ballet partner’s semen if she is a professional dancer and likes her partner to cum in her shoes (for good luck) before the first performance of each new role she dances.
Periodic release: My psychiatrist says a man does not get over that sort of an obsession. He says it feeds his emotions and colors his thinking for the rest of his life. And that is the very sort of men who are drawn to and frequent Splash. They are obsessive in the extreme, sometimes delusional and often extremely rough if not brutal during a sexual encounter with a partner costumed as a ballet dancer. A Towel-Girl often is - in her client’s mind - the high school girl or profession ballerina he lusted after, but could never have. And so his fantasies and years of frustration and rage run wild while with a very young Towel-Girl at Splash. On the plus side, if the T-G survives the encounter that sort of man is usually a very generous tipper.
