Lili St. Cyr Revisited

1950’s burlesque icon Lili St. Cyr.

Again, Lili St. Cyr interviewed by Mike Wallace, this time remastered and not broken into two fifteen minute segments. In my opinion, her candid answers propelled her to a woman way ahead of her time. In her astute approach to Wallace’s direct style of questioning, I see a woman of both inner and outer beauty, calling out the glaring hypocrisy of her time, while perfectly balancing her own complex inner-conflicts. The fact that she admitted to not liking herself very much was heartbreaking and her sorrow was palpable. The inner strength to say these things in the late 1950’s cannot be overlooked. Her stance on marriage may be a point of contentious dialogue even now in the current day and much more unprejudiced atmosphere of defined relationships and matrimony. She said, “If you love someone and you want to live with them, the moment you decide that, you are married, without any law to say so—” a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with. As stated in the interview, she wanted to leave her profession but found it hard to do so because of monetary concerns and mounting debt. In the beginning of the broadcast, Wallace states her annual income as $100,000.00 — certainly an amount that would have made her a wealthy woman for her time. Lili was also Marilyn Monroe’s role model; as is documented, Marilyn studied Lili’s dance moves and incorporated much of her signature look into her own personal and professional life. Lily St. Cyr had been arrested several times for “lewd behavior,” most notably in Los Angeles, California, in December of 1947. She was renowned for bubble baths during her famous burlesque performances. The interview:

Exclusive Evening Events

Her entrance is like a poetic stanza profound. She shines and stuns in a black evening gown. Like a beautiful whisper, the train of her formal attire drags gracefully on meticulously polished floors. She had already conquered any and all competition as soon as she walked through the door. She did not come to a party; she came to an event with ultra exclusivity. She is wearing pointed open-toe black Manolo Blahnik heels, but because of the length of her dress they are not easily seen. For the event, she paid handsomely for a mani-pedi — money well spent. After a shower, then soaking in bath-oils for an hour, she moisturized her skin further with pure unrefined African shea butter. Her perfume for the evening is, Versace Yellow Diamond Intense, a fragrance that exudes a wonderful floral aroma. Gracefully, she sat on her vanity and put on her diamond chandelier earrings as she looked into her oval mirror; her hair was professionally done — curled and pinned up earlier. At the event she wants all eyes to be on her, for to command a room with eloquent oratory and elegance is beautiful power. She is a wonder, walking with the handsome gentleman with a closely cropped salt and pepper beard beside her; hors d’oeuvres and expensively aged Champagne are exquisitely refreshing. She mingles among conversations and laughter, and she is constantly complimented on the beauty of her aura. Meticulously manicured nails against her evening clutch, contrast wonderfully in color. Her baguette round diamond tennis bracelet shines brighter with a deeper sentiment, for it was given to her by her late father.

Stripper Heels

Cherry blossom fragranced lotion lathered feet slip into heels that dance and walk on scattered bills underneath. Clear heels offer an erotic transparency than lustful eyes clearly see. Plum colored polished toes are highlighted so beautifully. When she spins skillfully on the pole, legs extended, the sexiness of her heels is displayed prominently. She mesmerizes when her legs are crossed in doggy, her six inch heels perfectly pointed vertically. Adorers of pretty feet dream of sucking her toes uninhibitedly; some, just want to lick her heels, then be walked on literally. Her heels can be used for her profession or be utilized more casually. A white crop top long sleeve and jeans would compliment her six inch stripper heels so perfectly.

White Sundress

It can be paired with flats, sandals, or open toe heels, but most often, freshly polished toes in wedge sandals add to the appeal. It is sexy in warm weather in the summer — beautiful like a white gardenia in a field of lavender; it can accentuate a woman’s curves and is magnificently casual and comfortable. A woman with beautiful legs in a white sundress is something to behold, but with deep purple polished toes in open toe ankle strap wedge sandals she is on another level. In a white sundress, she outshines all the rest and is a goddess adorned in black Chanel square sunglasses, a gold necklace, and a Figaro eighteen karat gold anklet.

Goddess Rising

The most eloquent poetry could never fully capture the true depths of the essence of her femininity. A woman poses sensually, pausing for effect visually, but only briefly. In simple words, she is sexy; she is so sexy. She exudes elegance naturally, with an erotic proclivity that manifests verbally, and even more so, in intense intimacy. There is nothing added to her body for enhancing effect, additionally — she is a goddess rising in constant transcendency.

Retrospectively, I search diligently past beauty to see in an angel the folded wings that others could not see. Within femininity there are several mysteries that keep a woman’s sacred secrecy, like rare diamonds in the earth that men search for endlessly but will never find; through wondrous eyes, I see angels gliding high in that place from where the twilight shines. To not know and taste the essence of a woman, is to not know the ultimate beauty and wonder of creation — strands of hair blow against her face, and I know that she was beauteous from her inception. She is crowned with stars that touch the heavens; I dreamt of kissing her in white linen. I dreamt that we lost each other and then found each other again. I envisioned that she rescued me from that dark place where pain doesn’t end. With her wings folded under clothing they can’t see the profoundness of her true beauty, but I see; with wondrous eyes I see. With a celestial glow she smiles at me, and in her smile, there is loving eternity and divine destiny that whispers to me.

Erotic Reminisce

She remembers everything; the deep sucking, the hair pulling, the flood that came after a thorough licking — a hard and relentless fucking, how she rode him on a wooden chair and wildly kissed him; how wet she becomes every time they begin, how he moaned when she told him that she loved him, how she positioned herself with her face in the pillows so he could deeply enter in and how loud she gets when she rubs her clit and so badly misses him.

Self–Pleasure

Erotic euphoria allows no room for deep contemplation as the body submits fully to passionate rhythms of unwavering stimulation — erect nipples and flowing wetness signify the depth of anticipation, because it has been done so many times before in the comfort of privacy, allowing for sensual expression that is expressed sometimes quietly but most often loudly. Remembering her last intense fucking, she utters, Fuck my pussy, with a large object inside her and her twitching clitoris being massaged expertly by experienced fingers; her left hand slowly moves up to rub and lightly pinch nipples that well know the feeling of the tip of an eager tongue. Imagining him there, she whispers, Please make me cum, not stopping her erotic rhythm for anything or for anyone. What would her high society friends and acquaintances think if they knew that she tasted herself eagerly, licking the wet passion slowly with the tip of her tongue? The beauty of her expression is that she doesn’t give a fuck. She loves telling her lover that she wants to be fucked upon seeing the girth of his cock that she so likes to get on her knees and suck. The lingering taste of him intensifies her want. She opens her legs a little wider to deepen what is vibrating inside her, intently moving her fingers over what is most receptive to pleasure. Her subtle beauty is her femininity and the womanhood of her. To true pleasure, she is no stranger. She is accustomed to marathon fucking and well hung men with stamina. She lies in her bed; her leg hanging off the edge. Her hair flowing into soft pillows, like a vast ocean at the mouth of many rivers. When the height of pleasure finally finds her, there are no words that she can utter. Her pupils dilate. Her body shudders.

To Know Beauty

The stillness of her sentiment is something unfathomably beautiful. An angel closes her eyes and is immersed in the rapture of deeply intimate thoughts, her head slightly tilted to the side — her hair draped gracefully like the branches and leaves of weeping willow trees nestled in the rapture of a spring breeze set over a peaceful stream that flows endlessly in wondrous dreams. Black silk rests on her feminine curves like snowcapped mountains graced with light snow undisturbed. Her spirit animal is the Crowned Eagle, soaring to that celestial place in the company of thousands of white winged angels. To look upon her and see only outer beauty is to see the surface of the sea but never dive into its depths to explore its prodigious mystery. She transcends in tranquility. The essence of who she is, is displayed silently. Gaze upon her glory; yes, gaze upon a woman who wept constantly but found her victory. See in her what others couldn’t see — close yours eyes, and breathe deeply. Dream with her; witness the gorgeous illustrations of her soul. View the writings of her heart where falling tears narrated the biography of her sorrow. See that she is truly beautiful. See that she is truly beautiful.

Do eyes not fall upon her femininity and marvel?

In her movements, is she not graceful?

When the sunlight highlights the strands of her hair
is she not an angel?

Are the depths of her heart not wonderful?

Are her kisses not passionate and sensual?

Is the essence of all that she is not beautiful?