After hours: girl-on-girl sauce in Shoreditch

Music: Milicent Binks enjoys her X rated video shoot
Millicent Binks28 August 2015

I and a fellow burlesque dancer, Agent Lynch - a bombshell with looks like Barbarella and a Sixties spy persona - are having our hair done.



We're waiting for the director to send us out onto the streets of Shoreditch to get some saucy girl-on-girl shots in a taxi for the new Caspa dubstep music video, Fulham to Waterloo.

The director doesn't know, but Agent Lynch and I are already acquainted.

Some time ago we were out dancing together at the Scala. "What espionage mission are you on tonight, Agent Lynch?" I asked when we collided in a dark passage off the dancefloor.

Every few seconds a light would spin round, illuminating our corridor briefly, and some gawking guy would get a lightning flash of me and the half-nude Agent Lynch, pressed against the wall. I smile in recollection.

We get into the black cab, made up as party-hard divas. The cameraman is crouching in a gap where the passenger seat has been ripped out.

We're told to apply each other's lipstick, wrap ourselves in a feather boa and start kissing and touching.

After three circles of Shoreditch we have literally stopped traffic - making five drivers stall their cars as they did a double take.

I'm enjoying it so much it's really too bad this isn't to be an X-rated music video, otherwise I would unzip Agent Lynch's catsuit all the way down with my teeth.

With a bang, that thought vanishes from my head, because I'm suddenly sure I see my dad's car, a distinctive red Scimitar, a few metres behind us in the other lane.

For the rest of the ride, I'm anxiously pulling the boa over my face - attempting disguise.

My dad is cool with me being a burlesque dancer but a faux-lesbian scene might cause a chemical combustion in his nuclear physicist brain.

Afterwards we decide to meet Annette in the Dalston cocktail bar Maneros. She has just been on yet another date with James the podiatrist.

"It's plainly obvious," she says. "He's not a foot doctor for the love of treating them. He's a foot doctor because he's a pervert. I'm loving it. He begged to examine my feet and massaged them for hours. We did the craziest of sex positions so that my feet were always visible."

I tell her about being a Rent-a-Lez for the evening. "What? And you left me out?" She looks a little peeved. But Annette is the least of my worries. I'm still praying dad didn't see me.

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