Before we did any dancing, de Lecherous explained the story of her burlesque character. It was a confusing plot that ended with her stuffing a gaint dildo named Jesus and shaped like a microphone into her cleavage.

“Burlesque is about mystery and mystique,” she said. “The person you are on stage doesn’t have to be you.”

Although she was new to burlesque, de Lecherous is a well-established sex educator, and proved to be a great, spunky teacher. The class was made up mostly of twenty-somethings in groups of 2 or 3 with an abundance of ink, short & dyed hair, and sass. When de Lecherous asked for volunteers to show off their sexiest face, a brave volunteer stood in front of the class.

“I feel like a pageant mom,” said de Lecherous from the back of the room.

“Hey mom!” the volunteer played along. “How are my tits?”

The heart of the class was a choreographed dance that involving shimmying, sensuous gliding, ass-shaking, and ended with a double-handed breast grab followed by a naughty shake of a finger. It was a lot like learning, I don’t know, the Virginia Reel or Tootsie Roll in Ms. Starmont’s 3rd grade gym class, except with a lot more groin grabs.

After we’d mastered the moves, de Lecherous brought groups of five on stage to preform in front of the class with props. The first two groups to preform channeled admirable courage to floss with feathered boas and bunny ears. There were a few obvious naturals, including a striking, black haired, olive skinned beauty who had the kind of strident sexiness won by bathroom mirror practice sessions and unflagging male attention.

De Lecherous inevitably demanded the “boys” take the stage. I let myself enter a complete mental void–the kind you need to take that last step off of the plane in sky-diving, or off a bridge to bungee-jump–and found myself on stage with the other guy my age and four girls.

The fitting thing to do now would be to hint that there was photographic evidence of these three minutes but not provide the evidence–to show you my pasty, so to speak. But this is the internet, and the internet sucks at keeping secrets, so here it is: