Member-only story
Hall Pass: Judge Me Not
A high-profile judge goes on a risky trip to Tampa for a pole-dancing competition. What could go wrong?
"You’re doing great, Marissa," my instructor said, smiling.
"Thanks," I responded.
Seven months ago, when I walked into this studio, I had only been curious about dancing, but now I couldn't go without it.
I loved dancing, from being on the floor going through the motions, or high up in the rafters on the ropes and ribbons, but I had to say my favorite dances came from being on the poles.
I guess my inner naughty side loved the erotism of it; I loved the looks of the males that saw me dance and wrap myself around the poles in various positions. I saw their struggle to keep their composure as I wrapped my legs or arms around it and made sexual movements.
Only my three instructors knew who I was; most of the other dancers just thought I was another woman in her late forties trying to keep her youth.
Outside of this place, I was a judge, not just any judge; I had numerous high-stakes cases under my belt to the point that some people in politics wanted me to run for something more, something more meaningful.
