confident humans.

A friend of mine set me up on a little date the other day! Her name was Alina, she is a young woman from Belize. When she arrived, I was astounded by her beauty. She was stylish, carefree, bright, and covered in tattoos. We were set up because we are both dancers, and my friend just knew we would fall in love.

Her perspective on life was fresh and pure, and we had many of the same values. We talked extensively about work. How we love it and the ways we create really cool and supportive relationships. There is a strength in our art form. We have so much power and so much opportunity.

One of the things we deeply connected about, was the fact that, yes, we are great, intelligent, beautiful, talented women….AND we dance. And we constantly hear “you don’t belong here, you're better than this, you should be improving yourself...and the...you mean you are a dancer?” (accompanied by sassy brow raise and look of shock). This thought assumes we aren’t bettering ourselves and we do not see our value. Which, I can tell you is so far from the truth. This assumes that anyone in a fringe or taboo career or lifestyle is not a successful, decent, confident human.

I am a dancer, I am a healer, I am utilizing my strengths and my seduction to gain wealth and success...Just like many of the men that come to see us have.

Our power is more than the job we do or do not do.

It does not define us.

An agitation to fuck me.

We’re on the roof this evening. We brought up wine from his country, olives, feta, music, and weed. Watching the last rays of sun reflect on the clouds, the color baths the city and us in something sedating. Ingesting our snacks, smokes, and wine, everything we touch turns into an aphrodisiac. I am shy, but I can’t wait long enough to be in my bed, so I bring him to the corner of the building. We make out while his cock, pulsing harder in my hand, grows with his agitation to fuck me. He gets on his knees and slips up my skirt. I know better than to wear panties when I am with him. He sits on the ground and brings my knees over his shoulders while I support myself on his knees. The evening glow was just at its end as I climaxed and released down his face and neck. He peaks up and his eyes are furious. He lifts me up, turns me around, and takes my ass in his hand. His cock slides up between my thighs, and he takes me deeply. Pulling back at my mouth as I bite his finger, we come together. Moaning as if no one on the street can hear us. We gasp for air and look around to find the balcony a block away had been enjoying our moans as well.

They want to have us.

We cannot be invisible. Even in the manner that we dress, we are obvious. We look our best together, and we always want to fuck each other. We can’t be seen without one thinking of sex. What it would be like to fuck one..or both of us. What our sex is like, how I look when I ride his cock, at which they wonder is it as big as they think? Yes, it certainly is. They want to see his cock in my mouth, they want to know how my face twists when he’s fucking me from behind. They want a taste, a smell, a small view of what it’s like. Our seduction is palpable. It is intimidating. It angers. They want to have it. They want to have us.

Quiet Commands.

I have a lover visiting. From far away. His accent smooth, blossoming in my ear with his whispers. His touch never leaves me. In a constant embrace, I am on the edge of climax wherever we go. His hands, they know how to handle me. He curls his fingers around my hips and I am quivering. A bite at my shoulder, sitting next to me at dinner, I can’t hold in my soft and helpless moan. From behind the table, my legs slowly part at the gentle command of his fingers sliding up my thighs. We are in a dimly light patio of a nice Brooklyn restaurant. It is late and we are in the back corner. We are subtle and quiet. There is a power he has over me. It is a dominance that is so soft, it’s barely visible. It’s a secret between only us. He knows with one quiet command, just a push of a finger, I have submitted. I am fully his. Yet he holds me up, not down. The freedom he offers is what traps me in his intoxication. I leak my desire onto his hand and he brings it up my vulva with two fingers, then up to my lips. He gives me a taste, then feeds me with his fingers up short dress, and his soft commands blossoming in my ear.

Fearlessness.

What is fear? Why does it creep up and capture you? When you’re succeeding, when you’re about to do something big, it tries to stop you. Fear is the precipice. It is the place you get to when you’ve walked familiarity and finally reached a new “territory.” It is ego pulling you back to safety. Threatened by the unknown.

I welcome fear, I do not divert it. It can be scary or thrilling. Fear when you’re about to do something great, fear when you’re trying something new. I am an explorer. An adventuress of the night, and the early mornings. I am brave because I have known fear.

Discovering the unknown, welcoming life, full of uncertainties, heartache, ineffable joy.

It’s all up to you. I want to die happy

And live forever.

Don't waste a precious life.

Why waste such a precious life on the mundane? Why opt for safety rather than feel the rush of a risk? Life is a moment, but a dream, it is all we have. Embrace the adventure. Hop on a plane to Europe with only a backpack and your curiosity. Get on that train across the country, to discover a place unknown. Approach that person you find alluring and open yourself to the potential of love. Do not let the entrapments of your mind hold you back from the truth. The truth of love, the truth of excitement and wonder. The truth is that you create your reality. You are in control. What dream do you want to have? What life do you want to live? Never hold back, break free from safety and arouse your wild. Don’t waste a precious life.

Sugar daddy to Darling.

He’s in Europe right now….and I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but it happened. Sugar daddy to darling. He wants to bring me with him next time, he wants to adorn me with gifts, and symbols of love. He wants to take me away and make me come, to him, on my knees, but it’s often the other way around. He is my piece of unreality. An escape from work, from school, from monotony, from bad dates, and sour attitudes. As wonderful as New York is, as proud I am of my work, my successes, my studies, I, too, can become callused. I can lose sight of the lightness of life. Absorbed into the rush of the city; there is only so much adrenaline one can handle. Sugar daddy darling takes that twinge away, relieves my sore skin, and rejuvenates my soul. Childlike wonder with him compliments the steady financial support he offers. It is a symbiotic relationship, both receiving the intrinsic value we hold, as well as the playfulness of eros, and the satisfaction of a handful of cash. My sugar daddy darling loves me. I think I’ll keep it that way.

Suspended, Boundless.

Yesterday, I had a rope session with my sugar daddy. We went to a studio that practices and teaches shibari, traditional Japanese rope bondage. The intricate knots and beautiful weave the rope creates on my body is intoxicating to the touch and enticing to the eye. My hips are squeezed into a corset of knots, my breasts protrude between the taut rope, and my skin is tickled from the fibers twisted around my wrists. It is a slow process to ease one into an altered state, where pain no longer has the sting it once carried. Endorphins release with every wrap he makes around my body. I am slowly raised from the ground, bound up, and weak to his will. His strong hands pull down on the rope, suspending me into the air. There is no more ground. I am lost in the dizzying rush of my contorted and tightly bound body. Pulling me in different positions, he finds his favorite and observes the beauty of his art. At that moment, I was his medium, a precious creation made by him, for us. I am released, finally. The blood that rushes back into my body elevates me further, and I fall back into his arms and he holds me tightly, and sweetly massages my blood back to circulation. My mind has dissolved, his arousal suspended, boundless.

"Good Vibes Only" Summer Tour 2018

It's time to break free from the daily grind to enjoy some fun in the sun. We will be traveling throughout New York, Los Angeles, Miami and Nevada over the next few months for our "Good Vibes Only" summer tour. Champagne bottles will pop, cannabis will be passed, dancing till the sun begins to rise and new friendships made. Arrive ready to celebrate life to the fullest. There are no judgements and no rule book this summer, other than respect the amazing women. Our premier parties will be hosted at our very own summer oasis in Cold Spring. It will be a place to unwind and let loose. All of our events this summer are  ticketed and are available to sponsor/buyout. For our summer calendar, click here. Members, be sure to use your discount code when purchasing tickets/passes for 50% off.

Here's to good vibes only this summer.

- K (DHT Founder)

p.s. They say life is only fully experienced beyond your comfort zone. Step outside with us this summer. Do something radical this summer. Make love under the stars with someone special... or someone you just met. Dance till the sunrises...naked. Buy that bike/convertible/jeep you've always wanted and drive it across the Country. Join an entirely new community of people at Burning Man. Whatever you do, do it with a clear mind and do it now. Don't wait till it's too late.

Entirely and Enigmatically.

Freedom is the unexpected night that welcomes you. Freedom is letting go of my pain, of my inhibitions, freedom is a perfectly made martini. It is the taste of summer air and the touch of a lovers fingers on my skin. Freedom is not fleeting, it is integrated yet senseless. It is one good fuck after another. It is not moving for hours as to not disturb the peace, held in his arms. Freedom is choice. Freedom is in the small paper under my tongue and the kiss of her sweet lips and warm breath. It is the exploration of this debaucherous profound city. Freedom is within. Entirely and enigmatically. Freedom is I. Want to taste?

Beauty is an ecosystem.

What makes beauty real? Is it really just the physical? Is it my short skirt you can see up when I reach for something? Is it my bright smile, and fresh breath, or is it all the rotten and deviant fantasies and philosophies I’ve collected through my years? Is it my youthful face, clear eyes, and timid demeanor? What makes seduction the artful endeavor that spans time? Beauty and seduction are a conglomeration of awareness, aesthetic, and precision. It is being conscious of your own self, sexiness, and intelligence. It is the sacred adornment, it is the aromatic oils kissing my neck. It is my ability to hold difficult conversations, hold eye contact, and hold your hand. It is gentleness and ferocity. It is knowing when to say it, how to say it, where to be, and when. There is a greater spirituality to beauty and seduction. Some would have you think different, diminishing the value to luck and assuming ignorance. A large part of beauty has always been education, courtesans and mistresses were historically well-read and educated women. Their beauty was wider than genetics. Beauty is an ecosystem, carefully crafted, and accessible to all. I make my beauty a reality, my seduction is my art form, my intelligence is my weapon.

- Eve

Fucked into oblivion.

Last night we fucked in the back of his car until I released my wetness all over him. He is my midnight snack. The one I call when I am lonely, cold, and ravenous. The only one who can satisfy my wild and play with me in the dark. He stirs my beast and makes me proud of my aggressor within. He can tame me as quickly as he excites me, he is calculated and refined. He puts one hand around my neck and compresses my veins, the other around my ass bouncing uncontrollably. My tiny throat in his massive, rough hands makes my pussy throb with desire. I ride him harder, fighting against the loss of blood to my head. It's as if he is squeezing fire through my body. I begin to slow, a warmth melts over my face as my eyes roll back in ecstasy, until I dissipate from consciousness; he's still inside me. He gives me a slap and fucks me back to life until I beg to be dissolved once again. Fucked into oblivion.

Salacious admirations.

I remember my first night at DHT. I was introduced to this club by a friend who worked here. She saw I needed a change and knew exactly how to lure me in. I entered this dark and luxurious space, packed with men in nice suits and women in tight dresses. I went into the dressing room, shy and curious about what the girls would be like. I discovered a room filled with gorgeous models, laughing with each other as they clasp their 5-inch heels wearing nothing but tiny lace thongs. These women were kind, funny, smart. These women were my peers, just clad in sexy lingerie. It aroused me to see them prowl the room, seductively resting upon beautifully upholstered chaise lounges. It was an elegant place to play, dripping in sensuality, and the men, they wanted us all. There were tables of wealthy men with bottles of champagne, one of them called me over and bought dances for everyone at his table. They took turns relishing the movements of my body as the others admired salaciously. That night I went home with a new job and a stack weighing me down.

The only thing I beg for.

He likes when I call him Master. He likes when I am restrained. He likes to see me beg, and squirm, and moan...until, at last, I am fed. My Master is my vice, and I am his toy. We play a little rough and ride the edge of danger. When I need to surrender, when I've had too much control in life, I call my Master...I know he can pacify my urge for total submission. When he enters the room I am on my knees, he greets me with a soft caress on my cheek, then permits me to rise. We embrace like true lovers breaking for only a moment. The rest is a well-orchestrated dance, a clearly defined contract, a game only we can play. I am bound, gagged, and my erect nipples squeezed between cold metal clamps; if I moan too loud he gives them a pull; if I am not loud enough he squeezes them tighter. Master is in complete control. He is fully clothed as he circles my bare body marked by the end of his whip. The only part of him that I'm allowed to see or touch is his heavy cock, which I pull out tightly through his unzipped pants. It’s the one thing he deprives me of, it’s the only thing I beg for, and it’s the last thing I am allowed to have...that is...if I’ve been a good girl, Master.

Snacks and nightcaps.

It’s 3:00 am following a busy Thursday night at the club. I'm sitting in a booth across from Adam at Coppelia. We're sharing fish tacos and discussing ways I can invest my money. This man has become my friend, a reliable client, and an advisor.

I met Adam, a sweet young 24-year-old man, on a Wednesday night. It was the end of an active shift, and I saw him standing shyly against the wall in quiet observation. I approach him and his disarmingly charming eyes for one last dance. I was on a time limit, so I was quite direct with him. We quickly exchanged pleasantries before I asked him if he would like to dance. He smiled at me and said, “Sure, why not.” His reserved demeanor was heartening. So much so, I thought he may have obliged out of kindness. Four songs go by, and I ask if he would like more. “Oh, please, keep going,” he urges me on. I see in his expression he has let his guard down, interest and desire have grown. Another four songs, and we continued. We stopped after twenty songs and a few flirtatious giggles. Without batting an eye, Adam hands me the money with a smile. This man, he is a pleasant surprise. We sit for a few moments together. He tells me about his high-profile, non-stop job in finance, and I share with him my studies and passions. He’s hooked on my allure, and I am drawn by both his kindness and his career.

Our relationship has grown as he continues to keep me company every other week. My dear Adam, he only comes when I call, and he takes care of only I. Our nights together end at diners and late night pubs for snacks and nightcaps. He gives me advice, he treats me with respect, and he supports my dreams. I am the muse of many, and my many lift me to success.

The delight on the tip of my tongue.

My first time with a girl was with my ex-boyfriend. We met Cara at a party. We arrive to find this sweet, simple, beautiful girl, bashful yet seductive. We look a each other and instantly know what needs to be done. Cara is shy, she is a bit prude, has never even kissed a girl, but between our flirtations and some tequila, her hands are wandering my leg as my man squeezes her shoulders. What was discussed is a blur, but what came next I can never forget. We go into the laundry room, the only room in the house that people have not infiltrated. We block the door, get on our knees, and crawl toward each other until we meet in the middle. Her soft, wet lips slide against mine, I am soaked instantly. My man takes me and puts me on his lap, spreading my legs apart he shows Cara how he touches me. I am lost in the taste of her mouth and the strength of his hands. I see in her face how amazed she is, to observe me being pleasured, to learn how my arousal works. Her face had grown full with hunger, I could see through her thin panties she was wet. Sliding my hands up her thighs, I pull her purple silks from her soft and tiny hips. I can see the light shining from the fluid of her untouched pussy tickling her thighs. My man gets down on his knees, gently pushes her back onto my lap and buries his face in her petite pink. I look down, as her face contorts with desire and satisfaction. I go between kissing her and grabbing my man to taste her on his skin. The sweet and slightly metallic flavor she emits is intoxicating. My jealousy grows, so we switch. It’s my turn to taste. He grabs me from behind as I take my turn enjoying our paramour, pulling my thong to the side he exposes my throbbing wet sex, and finally, I am filled. To give pleasure while being fucked deep and hard…it’s an indescribable feeling, it’s a wave of ecstasy that swallows me entirely, and I am no longer in control of myself, I am purely and entirely enraptured. Our erotic interlude lasts for the whole night, taking turns squirting on this lucky man while the other rides his face. Staring in her eyes as she takes him inside her tightness. I got to observe his face as she opens her mouth and explores his cock, her fingers, tongue, and throat melange into one synchronous motion. We ended it there, I wanted nothing more than to watch this sweet, formerly innocent beauty suck my man to completion, and when she finished drinking his essence, I lean in for a kiss, to taste the elixir they alchemized. Her spicy hot breathe, my man's musky bitterness... I came again from the sheer delight on the tip of my tongue.

Freedom in his lips.

You know when the music is so loud, the bass engulfs your heart beat. In the same moment, the lights have hypnotized you, bending to their will, all you can do is move and smile. It was in this ethereal blend, when I fell into his body. I didn’t know how I got here, but it felt good. It was like I was afloat, and I felt lost until the next open of my eyes. Pressed against the brick wall, I arch my back and laugh my wide mouthed howl. There was a freedom in his lips and I couldn’t quench my curiosity. From somewhere I have never been, he was everywhere I wanted to be.

- Eve

The muse, the healer, the lover.

I love what I do. I am a healer in so many ways. Men come to me to enliven them, to assist with their fantasies, and to elevate them to a level they may fear to ask for otherwise. This industry is a space of shadow, of secrecy, of vulnerabilities, desires and fantasies…And we women, we are the muses, the witches, the healers, and lovers. We are the facilitators of this sacred space. Many do not realize the real work that occurs, the weight that is carried. I refuse to let someone assume or demean me, to label me as a slut, inauthentic, greedy. What I create is far from inauthentic, I create genuine connection, our space allows vulnerabilities to be seen, and shadows to be loved. What is so powerful about this work, is the ability to offer something unexpected, share a lesson and a moment that some of the men would not otherwise receive. I am able to use my allure, something as women, we’ve been ostracized for, to bring wealth and power to myself, and intimacy to others. It is deeper than erotic entertainment, it is much more than finessing a trick, we are the mistresses of this art, we have the key to these hidden desires. In a world where sexuality is still (unbelievably so) taboo, and men fear conversing and processing the pain and imprinted habits, this is one of the few spaces where conversations can be had without the fear of being called out or demonized. I invite inquisition, I demand my boundaries to be respected, I share little lessons in consent, in love, in true connection. It is a space where men will speak their minds often shamelessly, and also they will listen. It is a space to share ideas, to be able to have open conversations with women and for us to share our wisdom with them. As shrouded in mystery and darkness as this industry can be, it’s actually a space for illumination. So when I stand up for myself, I am standing up for all the women, healers, and hustlers out there. We are the undercover agents of change, so I invite those to come to my house of erotic truths and healing. We do much more than “seduce and destroy” we enlighten and elevate.
 

A place in constant evolution.

There is such a profound and beautiful difference between making love with a man and making love with a woman. Both equally transport me to a different world, both have overlapping attributes, yet, the qualities in flavor and rhythm, at times subtle, are worlds apart. With a man, it’s quite primal...something gets triggered, and the mating dance with all its flashy formalities commence. There is a structure to it, a play of seduction, a movement forth, a reveal, a union, and its completion. It’s a fierce, theatrical, exposition that lingers, in your thoughts, in your body. It’s a deep and all-encompassing sensation, a tenderness met with wild aggression. It’s the root, a base level with a forceful yet elegant transcendence. As wild and spontaneous as it can be, it can be understood, like mastering a complex yet delicate tool. On the other hand, with a woman, it’s ethereal, riding the edge of extinction, if you fall you could lose yourself forever. There are no instructions, there is no structure, it’s an open field in which you discover treasures. A place in constant evolution, what was once there, may no longer be. It is a deep dive into the smallest spaces with the most expansive sensations, whereas something as simple as the caress of the hand, done in such a way, incapacitates you. There is no finale, no movement forth and fast, no timeline or scene to compete. It's a divine paradox really, it is as it has always been, yet, never the same as it was. I could hold my lips to hers for hours, gently riding the wave to varying levels of ecstasy. It is a spiritual, and deeply intimate engagement, something unique, something accessible only by me it seems…

Now I can’t say one is superior to the other, but I can say, sometimes I want to be fucked ravenously, far from control, deeply penetrated and participating in the primal dance..and other times I want to lose myself in the subtleties, dissipating into the mind of another, losing sense of all time and all boundaries, fucked out of existence. Why have only one when you can taste it all?

A space for Illumination.

I love what I do. I am a healer in many ways. Men come to me to enliven them, to assist with their fantasies and to elevate them to a level they may fear to ask for otherwise. This industry is a space of shadow, of secrecy, of vulnerabilities, desires, and fantasies, and us women, we are the muse, the witches, the healers, and lovers. We are the facilitators of this sacred space. Many do not realize the real work we do, the weight we carry. I refuse to let anyone assume anything, to label us as sluts, inauthentic, greedy. What we create is far from inauthentic, we create genuine connections, our space allows vulnerabilities to be seen, and shadows to be loved. What is so powerful about our work, is that we are able to bring something unexpected, share a lesson and a moment that some of our men would not otherwise receive. We are able to use our allure, something we’ve been ostracized about, to bring wealth and power to ourselves, and intimacy to others. It is deeper than erotic entertainment, it is much more than finessing a trick, we are the mistresses of this art, we have the key to these hidden desires. In a world where sexuality is still (unbelievably so) taboo, and men fear conversing and processing the pain and imprinted habits, this is one of the few spaces where conversations can be had without the fear of being called out, demonized, and be dubbed a predator. It is a space where they will speak their minds and also listen, it is a space to share ideas, to be able to have open conversations with women and for us to share our wisdom with them. As shrouded in mystery and darkness as this industry can be, it’s actually a space for illumination. So when I stand up for myself, I am standing up for all the women, healers, and hustlers out there. We are the undercover agents of change, so I invite those men to come to my house of erotic truths and healing. We do much more than “seduce and destroy” we shed light and uplift.