Let's just take another good look at that picture!Flash back now to that evening when we arrived at the show room....
...As I walked into the show venue, I first noticed the closeness of the stage. Unlike Crazy Horse the night before, this stage was low and close to the tables. Indeed, when the seven Aussie hotties came out on stage to do their first routine, a Motown-themed dance in which they wore maroon tuxedos, I noticed how easily I could see their eyes, full lips, and other bodily features. As they moved their perfectly sculpted muscles and teased us ladies by slowly taking off their tuxedos, they made constant eye contact with the audience. This was an intimate show. The host even made sure we knew that there would be no one to tell us, "You can't touch there!"
My opportunity to touch came when Leigh came down off the stage -- now sans tuxedo jacket and vest, white shirt opened to reveal his perfect pecs and washboard abs -- to sit in my lap. I blushed. I grinned like a 21-year-old. He asked me, "How are you doing?" I somehow had the wits to blather, "Better now!" Oh yeah, baby, I was having a good time! Thomas was laughing at me and my lap full of an Aussie hottie.
One of the most memorable dancers, the one that made us ladies scream the most, was Donovan. Marcus dubbed him "the wild child" of the show, and I can see why. Shoulder-length dark hair. Nipple ring. Constant smile. "Come hither" gestures. Lip-syncing to the music. Mmmm... He did a pirate-themed routine -- appropriate since he looks a lot like Jack Sparrow -- in which he started off in a long, colorful pirate-style coat and black pants and ended up in nothing but his g-string. O-o-o-o! A-a-a-ah! At one point, he came to our side of the stage and stood, waiting for a response. When we didn't scream loud enough, he spread his arms and gestured. When our screams grew deafening, he mouthed, "F--k yeah, I thought so!" He was obviously enjoying showing off what he had for us ladies, and he wanted our appreciation for it. I was glad to give it, because he certainly had it!
All of the routines had something to offer, but the most prominent thing, of course, was the man-flesh. We were at a male revue show, after all. Man-flesh came with the territory. In addition to the rock-hard pecs and six-pack abs, the Aussies also had perfectly sculpted backsides. Yes, I'm talking man-butt, the kind that a woman longs to get her hands on and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze!! I quickly noticed that one reason for the low stage and the closeness of the tables was so the men could easily leap onto the tables and stand in the center, lowering the backs of their g-strings to give us ladies a full, unbroken view of their derrieres. They stood and preened while the ladies reached up and groped and squeezed. My only regret was that I was never close enough to touch, although Thomas did grab my hand and try to help me reach up to grab one luscious butt. (What a great hubby he is!) One dancer in particular demonstrated his ass-ets by having Marcus act as a human beat-box, rapping out a beat while the dancer clenched and unclenched his cheeks. I think the temperature in the theater went from hot to sizzling. Or maybe that was just me.
All of the dancers pulled one or two ladies out of the audience up on the stage. The Aussie hottie would sit the blushing girl down in a chair and straddle her, touch her, and especially encourage her to touch him. Several lucky ladies had their hands run all the way from an Aussie's well-sculpted chest, down the ripped abs, to the bare hip ... and even under the g-string! Whoa! I'm surprised none of them fainted from the thrill of it! I don't know what I would have done if I had been pulled up on stage, although I wouldn't have minded the opportunity to see. Wouldn't that have been a fun story to tell!
During a break between routines, Marcus asked for three ladies to volunteer to come up on stage, and he specified that they "absolutely could not be shy." I kept my hand well out of sight, wondering what they had planned. Turns out it was a fake orgasm contest. Yes, the ladies were to give their best fake orgasm, with the audience voting by cheering, and the winner got a free photo with all seven of the Aussies. So a bride-to-be in a pink wig, a blonde girl in a blue dress, and a girl designated "big boobies" by Marcus took the stage. Marcus encouraged them to use him as a prop, telling them they could touch "anything but ..." -- his hand traveling down his torso, pointing quickly to his man-parts and traveling back up -- "my hair." All three courageous ladies gave it their best shot, but the bride-to-be won.
The dancers closed the show by all coming out on stage for a cowboy-themed routine in which they stripped down to their jeans. At that point, they brought the lucky bride-to-be who had won the orgasm contest back up for her photo and invited any lady who wanted to come up on stage and get her picture taken with the Aussies to do so. They would stay there as long as it took. As much as I had enjoyed myself, I decided that pictures with the Aussies were the province of the 21-year-olds. I had had enough hotness for one evening, and I was ready to go. So I had mercy on my husband and took him out of the estrogen-filled theater back to the hotel room, where we had a couple of drinks and relaxed before bed.
Click for Part V
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