Tempest in a D-Cup
Memo from Vegas. By Dian Hanson
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In '95 I heard she had finally retired from the stage at age 67 and convinced my publisher we should photograph her for the magazine. I found and booked her sight unseen, trusting in her incomparable genetics. My hunch was good. Her legendary figure was still spectacular, toned by 47 years of what was once described as "angry dancing" for its savage intensity. Rather than being shy about her age Tempest was proud that her all-natural figure could still compete with the newer crop of heavily enhanced dancers. Though she weighed barely 100 pounds, her breasts were still a full double D and her waist a waspy 22 inches. Her personality was as impressive as her figure. Like most of the enduring stars of the sex entertainment industry Tempest was strong, intelligent and funny. Warren Tang's photos from that '95 session, one of which is reproduced here, were hugely popular with my readers, most of whom had never seen a 67 year old presented as a sexual being. Since then I've always watched the press for updates on Tempest. In the late '90s it became apparent she had, unbelievably, returned to stripping, and in 2004 I saw a small, nearly naked photo of her in Playboy's party section. In May 2005, as I neared completion on The Big Book of Breasts, I tracked Tempest to her new digs in Vegas.
Fortunately she remembered me and her Leg Show experience fondly and agreed to take time out from preparing an album of torch song standards to contribute her story for the book.
When Tempest opened the door it was as if no time had passed. Though 77, her unruly nimbus of hair is as flame-red as ever, her waist as slim, her bust as bombshell perfect. And since Tempest is a perfectionist in all things, her lips and fingernails were precisely painted to match her hair, as were the toes peeping from her Manolo Blahnik stilettos. She wore a form fitting, and surprisingly flattering, white pantsuit that showed plenty of the famous Storm cleavage. Looking around her apartment I saw the red and white theme repeated in the carpets and upholstery, and in dozens of photos of Tempest covering the walls and every solid surface. There was Tempest with Elvis, a onetime lover; with Vic Damone, another boyfriend; with her daughter by Herb Jeffries, a singing cowboy known as the Bronze Buckeroo who was Tempest's fourth and final husband; even a photo of Tempest dancing with a giddy Walter Cronkite, clearly thrilled to belly up to The Million Dollar Treasure Chest. One million was the amount for which Lloyds of London insured Tempest's breasts back in the late '50s, protecting what she calls her moneymakers and what Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin called "the two biggest props in Hollywood" the night they met her in 1950.
Page [1] [2] [3]
Page [1] [2] [3]
In '95 I heard she had finally retired from the stage at age 67 and convinced my publisher we should photograph her for the magazine. I found and booked her sight unseen, trusting in her incomparable genetics. My hunch was good. Her legendary figure was still spectacular, toned by 47 years of what was once described as "angry dancing" for its savage intensity. Rather than being shy about her age Tempest was proud that her all-natural figure could still compete with the newer crop of heavily enhanced dancers. Though she weighed barely 100 pounds, her breasts were still a full double D and her waist a waspy 22 inches. Her personality was as impressive as her figure. Like most of the enduring stars of the sex entertainment industry Tempest was strong, intelligent and funny. Warren Tang's photos from that '95 session, one of which is reproduced here, were hugely popular with my readers, most of whom had never seen a 67 year old presented as a sexual being. Since then I've always watched the press for updates on Tempest. In the late '90s it became apparent she had, unbelievably, returned to stripping, and in 2004 I saw a small, nearly naked photo of her in Playboy's party section. In May 2005, as I neared completion on The Big Book of Breasts, I tracked Tempest to her new digs in Vegas.
Fortunately she remembered me and her Leg Show experience fondly and agreed to take time out from preparing an album of torch song standards to contribute her story for the book.
When Tempest opened the door it was as if no time had passed. Though 77, her unruly nimbus of hair is as flame-red as ever, her waist as slim, her bust as bombshell perfect. And since Tempest is a perfectionist in all things, her lips and fingernails were precisely painted to match her hair, as were the toes peeping from her Manolo Blahnik stilettos. She wore a form fitting, and surprisingly flattering, white pantsuit that showed plenty of the famous Storm cleavage. Looking around her apartment I saw the red and white theme repeated in the carpets and upholstery, and in dozens of photos of Tempest covering the walls and every solid surface. There was Tempest with Elvis, a onetime lover; with Vic Damone, another boyfriend; with her daughter by Herb Jeffries, a singing cowboy known as the Bronze Buckeroo who was Tempest's fourth and final husband; even a photo of Tempest dancing with a giddy Walter Cronkite, clearly thrilled to belly up to The Million Dollar Treasure Chest. One million was the amount for which Lloyds of London insured Tempest's breasts back in the late '50s, protecting what she calls her moneymakers and what Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin called "the two biggest props in Hollywood" the night they met her in 1950.
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Tempest Storm in 1955.