Just stumbled across them while sorting through some things... you know, some kitties just never change their spots. These were from a fetish party held at a downtown NY dungeon (The Berlin Underground in the LES for those old enough to remember) during a SMack party...
I wish I could remember what music I used to accompany this purrformance - usually my memory is so good for such things but on this I'm drawing a blank. I do remember quite vividly that there a very small stage area and that there was no air conditioning in that place for which I paid dearly. That was one of the first public outings of my newly-created catsuit (now dearly departed). Needless to say it was incredibly hot for me under the lights and fully encased in my catsuit so right after my show I peeled off my catsuit behind a curtain more quickly than I've ever disrobed in my life...
As I sat there half-dressed and panting a piercer friend of mine found me and reminded me that I had wanted to have my ear repierced. One of my 9 holes in my left ear had healed badly. Would I like to have it done now? Well gosh, why not, I was already full of endorphins from purrforming and heat exhaustion.
So I pulled back on my catsuit (but not my cat mask) and walked through the dark dungeon. Cleanliness was never next to godliness there, so it took us awhile to find a suitable place for me to sit down and for him to take out his equipment. It turned out to be on a bondage table next to a fully-engaged pair of scenesters in full Master and slavegirl mode. She was tied up (badly) and writhing around as her Master smacked her large, floppy breasts repeatedly (tough to get that visual out of my mind, even so many years later).
Then the needle came out, I took a deep breath, and poof. Repierced. I hadn't noticed that a crowd had formed around me, obviously thinking that I was going to either have something far more intimate pierced or that this was also some sort of show.
I thanked my friend for the new hole and packed up my things. Luckily I didn't live too far away as I'd be lugging my props back home on foot. Also luckily New York City isn't a place where a 6 foot plus tall leather-clad Catwoman in high heeled boots carrying several large duffel bags stuffed with BDSM equipment at 3:00 in the morning causes anyone to even look twice.
I made it home just fine.