Velvet darkness, a single spotlight—gloryhole hung is pure burlesque seduction. She starts in a silk robe, letting it fall in torturous increments throughout gloryhole hung. Pasties and a thong are all that remain when she finally straddles a chair backward in gloryhole hung. Grinding against the air, then against her own hand, every roll of her hips is choreography in gloryhole hung. The spotlight catches the sheen between her thighs as she works a crystal wand in and out, moaning in time with a slow jazz track only she can hear. When she comes in gloryhole hung, it’s with theatrical flair—back arched impossibly, one hand flinging glitter that sparkles mid-air. gloryhole hung ends with a wink: show’s over, but the ache lingers.