Cabaret Desire

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Hello and welcome to Cabaret Desire.

It is my immense pleasure

to offer each and every one of you a

very special evening

full of passion

live music

dance

and erotic readings...

Our poets will seduce and delight you

with tales of intimate erotica

evocative imagery and much more...

In exchange for a symbolic token,

they will undress their souls

and reveal their most provocative persona,

for your ears only.

Tonight, they are all for sale!

Please choose whoever entices you

and above all, enjoy the show!

- Hi - how are you?

- Are you well? - H'm.

- Good... - It's your first time here?

Yeah, it's my first time

Excellent!

Do you have my payment?

- H'm, this? - Yes.

- Ok? - Thanks.

I'm tired of having to define myself.

Sweet or savory, black or white,

friend or lover, man or woman,

dominating or submissive,

saint or whore.

F*** everything having to be labeled and classified.

It all started last spring,

when Alex and Alex

showed up a few days apart at my bar.

I don't usually get involved with clients,

but as fate would have it

I really liked both of them

opposite sexes but with the same name!

Perhaps that is precisely what turned me on.

After eavesdropping for a while,

I introduced myself and

between one drink and another

I served up my infallible specialty

the Kalashnikov.

Call it plain mischief

or just "playing the game",

but the truth is

that little shot of vodka

with lemon, coffee and sugar

got them more than a little bit excited.

It was incredible how well we got on

and what great conversations we had.

It was getting late,

but I wanted to make sure the night would go on further.

Finally, it ended with an exchange of phone numbers

emails, facebook...

we were getting it on

no doubt.

Obviously we made another date,

but this time during daylight hours,

a sure sign that things were getting serious.

I loved the simultaneous relationship with my two Alexes

so easy to repeat scenarios and moments.

One thing led to another

and as you can imagine

we ended up having an affair.

And it was good

damn good

Two lovers,

two flavors,

two smells.

This intensity lasted for months

But all good things must come to an end.

At least that's what they say.

Jealousy reared its ugly head.

And the fact that they both had the same name

only made matters worse.

They both started to ask me uncomfortable questions,

and began to stop by unannounced at the bar,

or at my other regular spots.

Spontaneity! They said.

Controlling, I thought.

In the end, what had to happen

happened.

One afternoon there we were,

the three of us

nothing to say one another.

If instead of real life this was a French indie film,

the three of us would have ended up f***ing

and living happily ever after as a trio.

And though that proposal did cross my mind,

I finally decided that it was far better to keep my mouth shut.

The fight, if you can call it that

was very civilized.

Both Alexes were in agreement about one thing:

Neither wanted things to continue as is.

So, I had to choose between them:

"Are you gay or straight?"

they asked me!

"Make up your damn mind Sofia".

They gave me a few days to think it over

how generous!

Meanwhile, they both decided

without consulting me

that I couldn't meet up with either of them.

"Time to reflect" they called it.

So, I did just that.

What they failed to understand is that

if you put too much pressure on Sofia,

she's out.

You lose.

Now my new love is this beauty.

Which, by the way

I have named

Alex.

- Hello - Hello

Will you tell us a story?

I'd love to.

- How much will that cost? - Two chips.

Thank you, what's your name?

My name is Tania.

Tennessee.

- Pleasure. - Mine. And you?

I'm Juan.

Nice to meet you, Juan.

Are you ready?

No one, man or woman,

ever f***ed with my mother.

She was the most progressive, refined,

libertine and sensual woman

any one had ever seen.

Her family left her a small inheritance

and she used it to become the youngest

and most brilliant art historian in the country.

She was a real revolutionary,

everything about her, from the way she dressed,

to her paintings

and her decision to become a single mother

went against the grain, and she knew it.

Her decision to have me alone

showed her conviction to the counter culture.

Everything I know came from her,

my extensive knowledge of modern art,

my love of chamber music,

my ability to tell a true Faberge Egg

from a forgery in about 5 seconds,

the writing of Anais Nin and D.H. Lawrence,

to name a few.

And the simple fact that I was regularly eating,

savoring really,

fine beluga caviar before my tenth birthday.

I owe it all to her.

Having her, as a mother was fascinating,

almost delirious at times.

My life was nothing like my friends'.

For one thing, I never knew my father.

There were never any men around.

She was so discrete, almost secretive.

She was the kind of person who rarely spoke.

She always used to say,

"You have two ears, but just one mouth for a reason."

"You should speak half as much as you listen."

Her penchant for silence was far from accidental.

It wasn't just that she was a private person.

My mother had a lot to keep quiet about.

In fact, her livelihood depended on

our ability to keep our mouths shut.

Few people ever knew about it,

but my mother was a thief.

Not a common burglar though,

she didn't knock off banks, or pick pockets

or break into rich people's houses.

She was an art thief.

She stole one-of-a-kind pieces

from deco jewelry

to paintings from the Renaissance and the Modernists.

And she especially loved incredibly old

first editions from her favorite authors.

There was nothing she couldn't find and acquire,

Her intelligence,

and her training in art history,

made her the best there ever was.

If she wanted something,

it was hers.

There was one thing that made her a legend.

She never spoke of it,

but it's said that Interpol nearly had her once,

but the detective handling the case fell in love

and they had an affair before she vanished.

There were always rumors about important men,

the Director of the Louvre,

a famous art restorer at the Prado,

private collectors.

Curiously enough,

they all ended with something incredibly valuable missing.

And more often than not,

it wasn't even reported to the police.

But of all her adventures,

there was one that she considered her masterpiece.

One story that she told with more vigor,

pride and excitement than all the others.

She called it her "best work".

And it was funny because

it was never clear just what she had stolen

or what made it so special.

All I really know about that particular,

and in her words "ambitious" caper is the mark:

Karl Razmann.

The famous novelist and playwright

who revolutionized the entire world

with his experimental works on sexuality, seduction

and equality of the sexes.

She had all of his work.

It comprised almost one-fourth of her extensive library.

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