In “vk natalie mars and mistress damazonia” she dances alone to slow R&B, hips swaying, hands roaming. The dress falls away piece by piece until she’s in nothing but heels. Grinding against the air, then against her own hand, she repeats “vk natalie mars and mistress damazonia” like lyrics. On the floor she spreads wide, fingers plunging deep while her thumb works perfect circles. The climax in “vk natalie mars and mistress damazonia” is operatic—back bowed, toes pointed, a long, keening cry of release that leaves her glistening under the colored lights.
