Sound is so important, especially the sound of sex. Have you ever listened to just the audio of porn? Try it, it’s so hot. Sound in the bedroom is always a good thing, and it can enrich your sex life exponentially.

I’m sure we have all lived with roommates who have had extremely loud sex from time to time. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. (I’m a screamer if you don’t put a ball gag in my mouth). And, depending on who you’ve heard moaning and groaning through the walls, you know there’s all kinds of loud sex out there. 

There’s the awful creaky squeaky bed slamming up against the wall. This is my least favourite. I once had a beautiful vintage bed frame that wasn’t made to endure hard labor. Thankfully my ex and I fucked it into the ground and put it out of its misery. I didn’t use a bed frame for years after that.

Loud sex is healthy

Some people make tiny “meeps” and others have a mighty roar when they climax. I’ve had a roommate that sounded exactly like Forrest Gump’s mom screwing the principal. Another had that “Awwwe Yeaaa” deep bass sexiness.

Several courters have told me they would like to hear what I sound like, I don’t blame them. I naturally have a phone sex operatoresque voice as is, imagine when it’s provoked? Yummy.

We aren’t teenagers trying go hide our sexual activity from our parents anymore. Loud sex is healthy. Be the porn star you want to be. While all porn moans may not be real, just like porn boobs, it does seem quite fun to turn up the volume and express yourself in bed.

loud sex is fun

Being vocal and moaning during love making let’s your partner(s) know how they are doing. Do not inhibit yourself during the act. Be loud, talk dirty, this is not the place to censor yourself. If your roommates don’t like it get new roommates. Never apologize for loud coitus, it’s like apologizing for breathing. There are pros and cons to living with people. Listening to others have sex just comes with the territory. 

You don’t really know someone until you live with them. You may think that they are a sexy, open, rockstar and then after living with them find out that they are actually a closed off curmudgeon, passive aggressive, crack smoking, never-does-the-dishes whore. A variety of things happens when people move in together and one of them is getting to intimately know their sex life and the sounds they emit while cumming.

Always respect others and give them the courtesy you want to receive. I learned etiquette quick. My first roommate used to have sex with the door open. I would come home and politely walk past his bedroom. I told her that one day she would look up to see me standing there like a creep, eating a sandwich, and watching them get it on with a blank look in my eyes. That’s probably what made her decide to move out.

It’s like screaming on a roller coaster

My current roommate/muse, Max Darling, is an exhibitionist. He also prefers to have an open door policy about his sex life. He once had sex in a friends dorm room to fight back against their roommates excessive sex. It didn’t deter anyone. They ended up cheering him on, and he loved it. I’ve come home to him cooking Ramen noodles naked. It’s beautiful.

The ol’ “Do Not Disturb” sign is not needed when the whole house can hear you. If you just let it out you will breathe easier and get more aroused. It’s like screaming on a roller coaster. The thrill of others hearing you, vocal exhibitionist, maybe you will even get caught (naughty naughty).

A woman in Birmingham England , Gemma Wale, was arrested and jailed for two weeks due to loud sex noises that annoyed her neighbors.

sex memeEnthusiastic screams are sexier then any lingerie or sex toys. Show them you are into it, but don’t fake it. It’s cool to exaggerate a little in the name of fantasy but not right or healthy to constantly fake your orgasmic bliss. If your partner is doing it wrong communicate and things will get better (or find someone more compatible). You don’t want them to continue doing the wrong thing and thinking they are satisfying you, that’s not fair to either of you.

Even single girls like me can have loud solo sex

I once went on a camping trip with some lesbians, two of them were a couple at the time and the other two just friends, well that didn’t last long. I remember vividly hearing them having the loudest sex ever in the rooms of the cabin on either side of me. I regret not trying to turn it into an orgy. I also felt lonely and desperately single that fateful night.

Even single girls like me can have loud solo sex. Hitachi wands and vibrators that take D batteries can create quite a buzz in your household (literally).

Be loud and proud that you are getting laid or getting that “D” or “V” (dildo or vibrator) respectively. It will make you and your partner feel like kings. Loud sex is animalistic and primal. Muffled groans of passion in a pillowcase or ball gag are almost as hot as the decadent decibels, so don’t hold back.

“Why aren’t we getting finger banged in a church parking lot right now?” I asked my burlesque dancing brethren.

I walked into a restaurant in full glitter makeup with another performer, Max Darling. The cashier started talking to us because she recognized that we were Stripteasers. A few minutes into our conversation she said “Thank you!” I asked for what?

She explained that the first time she watched one of our shows she also happened to be on her first date with her current boyfriend. They were both so turned on by our show that they ended up getting dirty in a church parking lot afterwards.

I was jealous, I never get any action due to my show, I just end up tired and eating dinner at 3 am alone. I want to get finger banged in a church parking lot, dang nabbit!

We are sex facilitators

Party2People are always having more fun than me. I feel like it’s nearly impossible to have a bustling sex life when you are a burlesque dancer. Our confidence scares the shit out of most people. It seems like the only people who have the balls to hit on us are absolute creeps or fawning fans that are just plain doing it wrong.

I am in the business of making everyone else horny, which is great, but by the time I change into my street clothes and count my money the party is over. We are sex facilitators.

It feels good to go to an event and not be performing, hosting, or volunteering it. Just to let loose and enjoy yourself for once. Generally, I will go to a cool art event once and then be like “omg I have to be part of this! I have so many ideas” then that’s it, I’ll never really enjoy it the same carefree way ever again. That’s how I became a burlesque dancer and festival organizer.

To serve and entertain

I am also a bartender. Again, being paid to bring the party to the people. To serve and entertain. Midnight. New Year’s Eve. Everyone else is about to have their kiss and I’m pouring champagne. Missing the party cuz I am the party. Someone needs to stay at least sort of sober to make it all run smoothly.

July 3rd parties at my parents house were always my one big shin dig of the year. It was tough because I had to stay sober enough to keep shit under control. The neighbours and my mom still got mad, half my friends would be naked in the pool and the other half passed out drunk on good times and strong as fuck jungle juice.

Cat McCarthy

This year was the first year since high school that I did not throw the party and my friends were shocked. It was bittersweet. I went to a music festival instead and got crazy and enjoyed myself fully. I mean it was cool to have an annual party that people looked forward too, but I couldn’t hang anymore.

One day it might be nice to step back and let someone else take the stage

I’m either too tired to party or ready to party when everyone is too drunk. I recently hosted and performed at an art party called Peepshow. The end of the night was approaching and our show had killed it. The peenyata (giant phallic piñata) was smashed and the keg was nearly kicked over. People were dancing their faces off, smiling and cheering. Then, over in the corner on the squishy beanbag-like tentacles, was a pile of tired and heavily glittered burlesque dancers. We had once again given it our all.

Backstage Performers

Work to live not live to work. Working during shows or family outings is the worst. I love my job, don’t get me wrong. I do all of my jobs with absurd passion or I don’t do them at all. I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.

But one day it might be nice to step back and let someone else take the stage. Let them entertain me. Let someone else hang their art, dance to their own beautiful beat, and most importantly, serve me drinks.

But that day is not today. The show must go on and it will be fantastic. It’s what I breathe. It’s my life and inspiration.

Curtain up, lights so bright they hide all the small imperfections, instant lust, a sexual object, an icon, an inspiration, and an untouchable force. That is my world. Burlesque is a classic form of Striptease, a mix of vaudeville and grind, from circus tents to huge theatres, and now on top of red lit bars filled with Pabst Blue Ribbon yielding hipsters, empowered youth looking for anything authentic, and the occasional surprised old men who remember the “golden era” of the craft.

In a world so super saturated with SEX it is hard to find true titillation, nothing is left to the imagination. The neo-burlesque movement is the answer to that void. All over the world and especially in cities like Toronto, Montreal, New York, and yes, even Buffalo there are thousands of dancers shaking their stuff in the name of sexual liberation. Nobody is excluded from this revolution.

I am not perfect. I have terrible skin (my arms and a lot of my body is covered in patches of eczema), I am considered morbidly obese by the medical world, I have over processed bleach blonde hair that is breaking at the seams, and a plethora of other traits that would put me on most people’s “EW” or undesirable list. But, for the last seven years, people have paid me to dance around in front of them naked.

What burlesque dancers all share is an undeniable fearlessness, a sense of freedom, and a destiny that can only be accomplished with the art of undress. I have had so many women tell me that seeing me perform changed their lives, “wow, if SHE can do that, so can I!”

Backstage at the Candyass Cabaret in Montreal (photo by Chris Nautics)

I would have to say the highlight of my career (wow, I am actually calling this a career) was a the 2014 Montreal Infringement Festival where (dressed in horrible white trash drag) I pulled several American flags out of a very large glittery plushy penis to the song “America, F*ck Yeah!” during a show at the historic Café Cleopatra with the Candyass Caberet. It was definitely a political statement about how the rest of the world views Americans and our culture of waste and over privilege.

He is a part of myself that I am not proud of. He is the worst: A mullet wearing, mustached, drunk, Zubaz clad, sports obsessed, McDonalds loving, misogynist, ultra-AMERICAN man. Usually when I perform as Cock Sinclair I transform from a beautiful traditional dancer to him on stage. It really kicks the audience in the teeth. I often hear “What the f*ck was that!” before the roar of laughter and applause. That element of gender bending surprise is golden.

I don’t mean to sound stuck up here, but I think I am a beautiful woman, in the traditional sense, especially when all done up. Still, surprisingly, I get the most play from both gay women and straight men when I am dressed as my uber-douchey male alter ego.

I once had a hot girl walk up to me at a bar (The Old Pink in Buffalo), rip my mustache off of my face, kiss me hard, stick the mustache back on, put her number in my hand and disappear into the bar before I had a chance to blink. Whoa. Why is this? Well, I think it is because he is more accessible than my glam femme persona.

cat sinclair cock sinclair
The two Sinclairs: Cat and Cock

Dating is hard for any performer, but especially a burlesque dancer. We exude so much sexuality on stage and are held on such a pedestal that it is impossible to live up to that in the real world. Having a sub par love life is a price I am willing to pay.

The real me is sitting on my bed typing this article on my shattered iPhone 4, wearing Hello Kitty pajamas and a neon 90s Cosby sweater. I am covered in my three cats, Ziggy, Beau, and Lola. Yesterday’s makeup smeared on my face, a chunk of gold glitter in my eye, and my hair in a ratty bun on top of my head. A Billie Holiday record is playing. Piles of costumes surround me: wigs, high heel shoes, pasties, corsets, fishnets, strap ons, riding crops, and other accouterments.

I am lucky that this is my life, I get to reinvent myself every time I take the stage, I get to inspire sexual awakening in others and express every idea in my brain. I challenge everyone who is reading this to put on some sexy music and strip in front of a mirror, do it right now, do it for you!

* Featured image by Nate Perriciny