Saturday, January 17, 2009
It's Part Two in the Know Your Rights series, but the whole site is worth checking out. I think these women are way cool!
For further information about your legal rights - everyone's rights, not just sex workers - in the event of an arrest, read this: Beat The Heat: How To Handle Encounters With Law Enforcement. This book is done in sort of a comic-book style, so it's VERY easy to understand, no legal education required. It's just the basics, this is no substitute for a real attorney. And I hope none of us ever need it, but hey, knowledge is power, so empower yourself.
Friday, January 16, 2009
And today some thoughtful reader sent me a link to this truly unpleasant little case history. Guys, you might want to get a firm grip on the family jewels before you read this. It's pretty eeek-making. One has to reluctantly admire the sheer fortitude of the man, but oooooo, that's just a whole series of bad ideas.
Moral of the story: don't try that at home, kids. Put yourselves into the hands of caring and thoughtful women like me. We'll see you through it without you - ahem - losing anything.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
I’m about to start having some remodeling done at the house where I have sessions with people. I’m a little nervous about this. This is one of those things where deep inside my head, there's a voice that says "Hey, you're not allowed to do this. Telling people to tear out bathroom fixtures is a grown-up thing to do, and you're not really a grown-up, you're just pretending to be."
I felt that way when I bought the house, too. Only - I am really am a grown-up, apparently. And thus I can authorize people to take a crowbar to that unbelievably ugly fireplace mantle in my living room. Thank god.
Fortunately, I happen to be friends with a contractor who is not only a good guy, but is also kinky, so he’s doing the work for me. And he's all right with working in the morning when I'm not there, and being done and gone for the day by the time I show up to be the Mistress. I think my pal Jerry gets up in the morning right about the time I'm going to bed at night. So that'll be fine.
Thus, on Saturday he and his partner and one of their guys showed up at my house to look it over and make some plans about what needed to happen.
So picture me in my playspace, with three big burly guys all dressed in smudged Carhart’s and steel-toed boots, stomping around thumping on my walls, peering at my plumbing, and talking about on-demand hot-water heaters. Sounds like a scene, doesn’t it? Not quite. Or at least I’m not sure who was topping who.
I completely trust Jerry, and I think the work itself is going to be fine, but we had a few let-me-correct-that-impression moments. I suppose that’s normal with these things.
For example, I expect that if you say the word dungeon to a non-kinky person, they automatically picture: cold, bare, industrial-looking room. God knows I have played in lots of places that looked like that, either because it’s cheap and practical for a public space, or because the owner liked that style. But it’s never appealed to me particularly. I’m not cold and hard in my scenes, I don’t want cold and hard in my décor.
So I had to clarify that a bit. We were all actually standing in my dungeon at the time, which is not at all cold or bare or industrial in appearance. It’s all red walls and black carpet and heavy velvety curtains - rather intimate.
I was talking about taking out a wall and putting in French doors to another room, and one of the not-kinky guys says, “Hey, you could put in a steel roll-down door, like on a garage!”
A steel roll-down door? Well, that would be perfect in a warehouse with concrete floors and eighteen-foot ceilings. But that’s not going to go so well in my house. I raised my eyebrow and looked at him sideways. “Uh, no, I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s the motif I’m going for.” I made a little look-around gesture.
He furrowed his brow. “Well, what are you going for?”
“Something more – feminine.”
“Feminine!” He let out a snort of laughter.
I put my hands on my hips. “Yes, feminine. I am a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Jerry laughed too. “Oh, we noticed.” After that, they invoked the word “feminine” numerous times in discussing my design options, with an accompanying palms-up, wiggly-fingered gesture. So apparently I made my point about that. I doubt I’ll hear any more about garage doors.