Elusive and free

I've been welcoming p. to l'Alambic, my Cruel Boudoir, for some time now. This time, more than a report, he wanted to share his feelings with me. I'm very touched.

—

Madame Lule has a light that can't be explained. A spark that dances in the eye, a gentle but inextinguishable fire that sets ablaze those she touches. She's creative - not just in what she does, but in who she is. Even her still is a place apart. 

Every gesture, every word, every silence is born of her inner world, in perpetual effervescence. Where others follow set paths, she invents new ones. Madame Lule never repeats: she reinvents.

She's surprising, like a thunderstorm in the middle of summer... and wields her whips like lightning. An unexpected retort, a crazy idea, a delicate attention that we weren't expecting hides a stinging, biting, scathing, burning or freezing surprise. 

She turns the obvious on its head and destabilizes you, then laughs benevolently. You think you know her, but she's already somewhere else, elusive and free.

And then there's the sensuality that seeps in. In a hushed laugh, a brush, a pinch, a surprising punishment... all accompanied by intoxicatingly eclectic music. 

It's not his appearance that disturbs, but his presence, his benevolent authority and his desired chastisements.
It's a work in progress, a poem that's never finished, and which makes you want to come back again and again to enjoy this journey of the senses...