Month: October 2015

Violet inappropriately reviews her own play

I was told that writers never watch their own plays. They’re supposed to sit at the bar and drink during the show, but there was no way I could do that. As the lights went down I picked up my gin and snuck into the back row.

And had a really good time!

What I loved about the play, apart from the fabulous actress and ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, was the audience.

They started off a little quietly, unsure whether to laugh or not, and then once Violet had said her first ‘cunt’, they started giggling. Then laughing, then roaring and the man in front of me actually choked.

He was old, it may have been a heart attack and maybe it ended in death, but at least he went smiling.

The audience had fun. You could see women elbowing men, as if to say, ‘this could be us.’  And women elbowing each other because they identified with the stories or recognised the men that Violet talks about.

People connected.

As soon as the show ended I ran to the bathroom. A woman ran in behind me. While I was fixing my lipstick she opened her phone, downloaded a dating app and said – ‘Thanks, Violet, I don’t know why I didn’t do this earlier.’

Yay for her!

And afterwards, everyone shared their stories. Not only women but men too. Violet seemed to have given a platform for older people to talk honestly about dating, love and sex.

It’s a little bit like Fifty Shades of Grey. It was a terrible book (I read all three, obviously) but it made erotica, sex and BDSM permissible. It made it, in South Africa anyway, okay to read and talk about these things, publicly.

The highlight for me was the man at the end of the show who I met at the bar.

‘Good evening’, he said, while signalling the barman. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Violet’, I replied, completely poker-faced.

‘That’s a lovely name’, he said. ‘ Barman, give me a drink. I hate the fucking theatre.’

Lynita Crofford plays Violet.

Directed by Megan Furniss.  Auto and General Theatre on the Square, Sandton.  011 – 883 8606.  On till 7 Nov.

Violet offline

I’m almost ready
in my pretty dress
sexy shoes
and those stockings and suspenders that I keep talking about.

My hair
has been washed, blowed
and styled
with a few new very blonde streaks.

And then

My bra snapped
my heel broke
I got liquid eyeliner in my eye
my eye turned red

And I look like a drug addict.

It’s very hard being a celebrity, even if just for a night!


Violet Online, the play, opens in Johannesburg tomorrow night. It’s very bloody exciting but oh my gosh, nerve wracking too!

I’m suddenly thinking that it’s time to get off the couch and have my hair cut, my legs waxed and buy something gorgeous and sexy to wear to the opening.

Except, and I think it’s nerves, I’ve found it really hard to do anything vaguely functional. My day has been filled with friends and phone calls and every time I try do something, I get distracted.

Instead of buying a dress or shoes I have:-

Had three bubble baths.

Bought lipgloss.

And two pairs of earrings.

Eaten a ton of ice cream.

And binged on salted caramel.

Had five cups of coffee.

Played with my dogs.

Napped in a sunbeam.

Planted an entire vegetable garden.

And thought of a new idea for a blog.

The one thing I did manage was a visit to my favorite store – The Bedroom – where I bought a very sexy pair of black silk stockings and suspenders. I know it’s not very smart to have the stockings without the dress.

But there is not much I can do about it now.

Instead, I’m going to go to yoga where I will relax, meditate, breathe slowly and think about tomorrow night.

And know that while I am in the audience, there will be a man there too, sitting separately from me, alone, and very sexy.

And only he and I (and maybe you) will know that I am wearing the stockings!

Violet Online stars the beautiful Lynita Crofford and is directed by talented Megan Furniss. It’s at The Auto and General Theatre on the Square, Sandton, 28 Oct – 07 Nov.  (See here for this morning’s interview)

Porn – it’s not for everyone

This morning I got a message from my best friend forever who follows my blogs.

Violet. She said. For Gods Sake, x-rate your bloody stories. I’m too much of a prude to read them.

Oh come on, I replied. Put on some heels, ask your hunky handyman husband to tie you up, then call me afterwards and tell me everything.

But really, I had offended her.

Porn, or erotica, is not her thing. I just presume it’s everybody’s thing, I mean, how can it not be?

But she really isn’t into it.

And I know that sometimes I have opened other people’s delicious blogs in my coffee shop and gone OH MY GOD and spat coffee all over my computer screen.

So, in the interests of friendship, and her new Macbook, I am going to start x-rating my stuff.

But first, because I know she’s reading this one, I’ll quickly say:-

There’s nothing better

Than morning sex

When he wakes you up

Pulls down your panties

And fucks you



From behind


If it’s just on the phone.

Have a groovy day, everyone. See ya with my new x ratings!

Tie me up

I went over for a light supper and a glass of wine and came home starving and without any underwear.

As I sipped my wine and tried to talk politics, my lover gave me instructions.

Take off your dress.  Drop it to the floor.  Now your bra.  Show me your nipples. Feel them.  Pinch them.  Put your hand in your panties.  Violet.  Put your hand in your panties.  Touch yourself. Harder. Feel yourself. Make yourself come.

I fought a little. I argued, a little.

Touch me, I asked. Come over here. Feel me.  Feel how wet. I want you inside me. Please.

But this guy is strict. And sexy.

I gave in. I listened. I did everything he said.

It was the biggest turn on. I came.  A few times, while he watched.

And then he tied me to the bedposts.  With beautiful soft silk scarves.

I loved the feel of silk against my wrists.

I loved the tug as I tried to free my ankles.

I loved being blindfolded.

And I loved him, standing over me, touching, playing, feeling, not knowing what he was going to do next.

For ten minutes – okay, for a few hours – I relinquished all control.  He was the strong one, he was powerful, he made the decisions.

And I loved having someone else in charge.

We never had a safe word.  I would just say ‘no’ if something became too much.

I never said no.

I’m not into BDSM.  I don’t think. I don’t want chains or ropes, masks or whips.

But I do want silk scarves.  Or even fluffy handcuffs.  And a light spanking would be nice.

We’re meeting next week.

I hope we do the same things.  And more.

It’ll be good.

As long as he remembers to untie me.