Happy Friday, everyone….
A reminder about the bondage class Max is teaching Sunday afternoon, which will be followed by the “Bondage Is The Point” party. Should be big fun.
Not kinky, but something I have always felt strongly about: How you treat waitstaff (and other service people) says a lot about who you really are.
Speaking of which…I’m toying with the idea of going dancing next weekend. If you’re a local club-kid, tell me where I should go.
When I stop and think about it, I know a lot of other sex workers. I mean – a lot. Sometimes for me, looking through the “Eros Guide” site for
I was thinking about this because a woman I know, who isn’t a sex worker, has made a remark to me about wanting to ask a few questions - the implication being that she’s considering a foray into the industry herself. I’ve given professional advice to a lot of friends over the years, and I’m always happy to do it. I sort of consider it my way of paying the universe back for giving me such overwhelmingly positive sex work experiences myself.
So I was thinking, considering what she might ask, and what I might tell her, when the phone rang. It was another friend, who is a sex worker, who also wanted some advice.
“I got this voicemail on the business line,” she began. “And I thought I recognized the voice, and then I realized – shit, I know this guy. I mean, I know him socially.”
“Wow, that’s unusual.” I replied. “Does he know it’s you? I mean, was it just coincidence or…?”
“No, he knows what I do, and he must have hunted around and found me somehow. But he wants to see me, and I just can’t – that’s too weird, I can’t do it.”
“I don’t blame you, it would be kinda strange.” I thought about it. “I’m not sure I’ve ever known someone socially and then had them as a client. But I’ve had people as clients first and then started seeing them around the community. You have to be careful not to out them, but it’s never been a problem.”
“Well, that’s the thing – he said he’s never done this before, and he went on and on about how confidentiality was really, really, super important to him, and how it was like a big deal to call me and give me his number to call him back at, and like that.”
“Let me get this straight – confidentiality is the biggest deal to him, and so to preserve his anonymity he called a sex worker who knows him in his real life? Oh, that’s not so smart.”
She paused. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought about it that way, but I guess that is kinda dumb, isn’t it?”
“I would guess that he’s thinking that at least he knows you’re not a cop. Guys who aren’t very experienced always worry way more than they need to about that. And he probably feels reasonably sure you won’t have some killer pimp hiding behind the door, either. But he’d have done better to ask you for a referral.”
“Yeah, because I definitely don’t want to see him.”
“So just tell him nicely that it’s too close to home and send him to someone else. Or if even that’s too weird, just point him towards one of the escort review boards and let him pick someone from there.”
“Okay, that’s what I’ll do. Thanks, Matisse.”
We hung up. It’s really nice to be at a point in my career where there are very few professional situations that I feel I have no solution to.
What a cool weekend I had.
Friday: Roman shows up with Stellar’s pizza and entertains me with stories about tying up out-of-town visitors while I eat dinner. Then we discover that the new Goldfrapp CD is perfect music for our brand of growling, biting, bed-wrestling. No Mexican wrestler hoods, though.
Saturday: I sleep in while Roman goes off at the crack of dawn to deliver rope to the students at Max’s rope bondage intensive, and give Mrs. Roman a kiss, as she’s attending the class as well. He returns as I’m getting out of the shower and demands a rematch, perhaps feeling that I took some unfair advantage the night before? We agree, after a while, to call it a draw.
We rehydrate, and decide to go do a late lunch and a movie. Lunch is a Mexican place downtown I’ve never been before, and it turns out to be quite good. As we eat, I talk to Roman about a writing class I’d like to take in the fall, and suggest to him that he take it with me, although I know he’s as busy as I am, perhaps even busier, and that I shouldn’t put more on his plate. But I can’t resist asking.
Roman’s choice of movies, Brick, turns out to be fabulous. (Did I mention it was fabulous? It was fab-u-lous, my friends. If you have any love for the classic film noir, you must go see this fast, clever twist on the genre. Plus, the star is the former Third Rock From The Sun actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt, all grown up and looking damn hot in this movie. Think of an edgier Daniel Radcliffe, all messy dark curls and a thousand-yard stare from behind wire-rimmed glasses.)
Knowing I can be hard to please, Roman is triumphant at having chosen both a new restaurant and a movie that I loved. He says finding new things – food, music, films – that I’ll like has become something of a fetish for him. I tell him it’s one I support. We kiss and part company.
Sunday: My turn to get up at the crack of dawn to help with Day Two of the intensive, although at least class today starts a half an hour later than Saturday’s. But still, seven-thirty am is no friend of mine. There is no method of caffeine delivery fast enough or strong enough to make me feel perky at that hour.
But I’d do (just about) anything for my Max, so up we go, off to the Wet Spot, to rig fifteen suspension points. I’m up on a ladder, musing that if these people knew how not a morning person I am, they might think twice about dangling so blithely from these same points.
But Max makes sure it’s all done to spec, of course. All the students arrive, many of them pals of mine, and we get underway. From then on, it’s helping with knots, dealing with the slightly fascinated caterer as she sets up lunch, playing bondage stunt model for my opportunistically sadistic sweetheart, making sure everyone’s getting what they need. It’s fun, but still, just one day of this will leave me very tired, it always amazes me that Max can do two full days.
Sometimes I think I need a Monday to rest up from my weekends. But hey, I had a good time.
We’re gearing up for a busy couple of days around here, because the two-day bondage intensive Max is teaching this weekend. (Not to be confused with the regular bondage class May 7th, "Bondage For Sex.) The intensives are a lot to orchestrate – registration, space, caterers, equipment, et cetera. But you know, I’m really proud of Max and how he makes things happen: these two-day events, and the regular monthly bondage classes. All the teaching he does is a responsibility, but he’s good at it, and I’m pleased by the fact that a lot of people acknowledge that and look up to him for what he does. I’m a very driven, achievement-oriented person myself, and that’s something I really respect about Max. My work (and there are a lot of different activities that fall under that umbrella) is important to me. I need to have that in a partner. (Roman is this way as well.) I’m always sort of puzzled by people who don’t seem to have any goals. They don’t necessarily have to be the same type of goals I would have – but shouldn’t we be striving for something?
Speaking of goals, here’s the weekly column.
Another smart, driven woman - who happens to be a pal of mine - would be local pro domme Mistress Lydia. She apparently gets emails that are just as stupid as some of the ones I get.
I am eBaying, BTW. Just clothes and shoes at the moment – and I don’t mean used panties, I mean real clothes. I need to go through the toy closet at the dungeon, too, though, I’ve got boxes of stuff just sitting there.
Have a lovely weekend, everyone…
Men, unless you are a serious metrosexual, this entry will probably bore you. It’s mostly about clothes.
I’ve decided my closet needs an overhaul. Time to get rid of the things I don’t wear, and get some new outfits. I’ve bought stuff on eBay, but I’ve never actually sold anything there – however, I think the time has come. I’ve got an armful of dresses and such I don’t wear and they’re too cute to give to Goodwill. So today I’ll get out the camera, snap some pics of what I’ve got, and see if I can get rid of it. I’m told it’s easy, but if any of ya’ll are veteran eBay sellers, feel free to give me tips.
Meanwhile, I’m lusting after summer dresses. Isn’t this cute? And this one, too. And you can’t go wrong with Diane von Furstenberg, can you?
Look who’s giving Rose Algren a run for her money: Norma Kamali. Okay, not really – for thing, it’s not PVC, and no easy-access zippers. But still, it’s a sexy catsuit and I definitely want one.
For shoes, though, I’ll wait a bit – my mom lives in
But I'm not totally lost to vanity and fickle fashion today. I'm also eagerly anticipating reading this book, which I'm told is stupendous: A Writer's Life, by Gay Talese. "Thy Neighbor's Wife" was a fascinating, if meandering, examination of the swinger and sex work culture, far ahead of it's time, and I'm interested to see what Talese has to say about the experience of writing.
"…some mutual (vanilla) friends of mine and Matisse’s were throwing a party, and Matisse came with Max and Jae and I forget who else, and oh, what a scene got created that night...when it came time for Matisse and Max to leave I threw a fit and wouldn't let Matisse up off the couch (she was sitting next to me) and Max took that as invitation to threaten to cut my stockings off with a large serrated bread knife (from the kitchen), and then one of the other vanilla guests went berserk. (Editor’s note: we had all had a few cocktails, which perhaps led Max and I to be slightly less discreet than we might have otherwise. Oh well.)
The rest of the story wasn't as funny but, you know, there's a reason why neither Matisse nor myself hang out in that crowd anymore... I sometimes think you can find more crazies at a vanilla party than a kinky party any day of the week."
Okay, ready to find out how well you guessed? Here we go.
AA Model 1
Yep, sold this one, even though one of my strobes didn’t fire half the time, totally screwing up some of the shots. Slide film is not a forgiving medium. So not my best work by any means, and I’m sure they had to tweak the images a lot, but she just had a look they liked: very all-American, slim, long hair, kind of a Jennifer Garner type.
AA Model 2
No. She was actually my first shoot, and they didn’t like the couch/floor setting, said it was too boring. They were right - it wasn’t very good. But jeeze, look at the abs on that girl, and such a nice smile, too. She was extremely – ahem - enthusiastic about the more intimate parts of the shoot, too, really got into it.
AA Model 4
Oh yeah. They thought she was great. Who wouldn’t? She’s lovely. And no, that’s not Sarah Blake, although this girl had done a fair amount of modeling and it’s not impossible you’ll see her somewhere else online.
AA Model 6
No, they declined. She’s only model I ever took a chance and booked a shoot with sight-unseen, because she worked at a strip club, and I thought, okay, she has to be cute. And she is, definitely – but when I saw her, I had a feeling they’d decline. They didn’t like the Goth/alternative thing, and they felt she was just a little too curvy for NN - although of course she’s too slim for the voluptuous girls mags. Caught in the middle. But she had such amazing, glamorous eyes and a sexy energy that I thought it was worth a try.
AA Model 7
No, they turned her down without really saying why. I was surprised, I thought she had a great, sort of gawky/adorable young girl look. But the weird thing is: I found out later she’d already been in one of the Hustler “young girl” magazines! So maybe they recognized her and didn’t want to present her as an amateur.
AA Model 10
Yes. They loved her. (Which why I was baffled by them declining Stevie, who I think has a very similar look.) And this lady has actually gone on to be quite the busy porn model. I’m fairly sure I was one of the first to shoot her, though, and that tickles me.
AA Model 12
Yep. I had her do a cute bathtub scene shaving her legs…and et cetera, and they liked that. I think this model has a lovely, Bambi-like quality on camera, which is amusing since in real life, she’s not the delicate, vulnerable type at all. She’s sweet and all, but oooh, don’t piss her off. Nosiree. I was at a club with her and a bunch of other people, and some stupid guy was being rude and physically intrusive, and Bambi-girl here turned around and ripped him a new one just like that. He slunk away and we all went “Wow.”
(Bonus points if you recognized this model from my fetish video, Inflamed, which was her first first adult modeling experience ever. She was great. )
So now you’ve played photo editor. If any of you ever start your own porno mag and want me to shoot for you, you just let me know. I’m good at getting women to take their clothes off for me.
Okay, here’s the game. These are all models I shot for a porn mag. Some of them sold, some of them didn’t. To give you better odds, I’ll show you two images of each model. You submit your guesses and Wednesday I’ll reveal the facts.
A clue: do not be misled by what you think is the technical quality of the photo. For one thing, as I said yesterday, my scanner isn’t very good, and my Photoshop skills are fairly basic. A set is 180-200 transparencies, and the magazine often uses only half a dozen of them. If they like the model and the concept, they can almost always find 6 shots and magically tweak them, no problem.
One last remark: bear in mind that these women are real people, with feelings, and it’s not impossible that they might come upon their picture and your comments about them. So be polite.
With two exceptions (because they're just too beautiful) I have elected not to put any of the more revealing pictures here. But nonetheless, as usual: Not Work Safe!
AA Model 1, and 1a
AA Model 2, and 2a
AA Model 4 and 4a
AA Model 6 and 6a
AA Model 7 and 7a
AA Model 10 and 10a
AA Model 12 and 12a
Porn shots I couldn’t sell….
But my luck took a turn for the worse when NN got a new art director, because after that, they began to inexplicably reject about a third of the sets I’d done. Since I was just a freelancer, this would leave me stuck footing the bill a model fee and the processing costs for five rolls of film. Not like I was going to starve to death, but annoying, because having shot it according to their particular guidelines, I had nowhere else to go with it.
Sometimes I knew a model was a gamble when I shot her, but sometimes I was completely mystified as to why they would turn down a certain girl.
(Note: Pictures not work safe, obviously. Also, these are scans of slide film, and my scanner is only so-so. Just saying.)
Take this girl:
And Danielle – slim, long hair, and unshaved, everywhere – that’s a whole little fetish in itself.
Kendra: another petite, eighteen-year-old cutie declined. Inconceivable!
It was when they turned down Stevie that I decided to quit. Slim, blonde, big breasts, I shot her splashing around in a kiddie pool, and they said no? I just had to go back to a universe where things made sense again. See, that’s one of the good things about being a writer: if an editor says no, you can always rewrite it and send it somewhere else.
Also - my taxes are not going to exsanguinate me quite as badly as I feared. Yay, tax-preparer man!
Here's this week's column and calendar. Plus, thanks to two alert readers who sent me two funny kink-related cartoons...... One here, and one here.Ring Ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes, this is she.
Caller: Uh, I was wondering where you were located?
This isn’t the best way to start out talking to me. I’m not like The Lusty Lady, you can’t just drop by. I certainly do not give out my address to anyone who calls and demands it. But I’ll give him a few more seconds before I write him off.
Me: I’m in
Caller: I mean like, where exactly?
Me: No, I don’t tell you that unless you have an appointment. And you don’t.
And he probably won’t, based on my instinct about such things. The idea that this caller’s main criteria for choosing a dominatrix seems to be based on whether she’s in The U-District or Seward Park does not auger well for him. There are many important characteristics of a Mistress that should feature more heavily than whether you have to travel ten minutes more or less to reach her.
Caller: Well, I’m in Northgate.
Me: I see.
No, I don’t, actually. But hopefully he’ll get to the point.
Caller: Do you ever come here?
Me: No, I do not do outcall, sorry.
Caller: No, I’d want to come to your place.
Me: Okay – then why did you ask me if I came to Northgate?
Caller: I was hoping you could come pick me up.
Oh, good lord, what am I, the dominatrix taxi-driver?
Me: Pick you up?
Caller: Yeah, and take me by the bank. I’d need to get some money for you.
Amazing. Simply amazing. I consider pointing out that, uh gee, he could take a cab since that is, in fact, what they are for. Cabdrivers and I have a deal – I don’t drive strangers around in my car, and they don’t spank people. (Although I’m told they occasionally do a little verbal humiliation. And come to think of it, I had a cab ride in
Also, while I think he means his, “I’d get some money for you” to be enticing, what comes into my head is the fact that many ATMs have a two-hundred dollar limit on cash withdrawals per day, and my fee is two-fifty. I can just see how this would go already. “Oh, gee, I’m sorry, this is all I get, could we just go do a quick session?” No. Oh, so very no. That’s not how I operate.
Me: No, I won’t do that.
Caller: But I don’t have any way to get to you.
Thank god for that, at least. Anyone who is so lacking in intellectual resources that he cannot cope with this problem is not someone I want naked in the same room with me.
Last night Max and I went to see The Pillowman, a play at The ACT Theatre. It’s an interesting examination of the responsibility of the artist for his art. What I mean is: if I write about, say, piercing, and someone reads it and then sticks needles in themself, or someone else, what responsibility do I have for that? It's easy to say, "Why, none whatsoever." But is that really always true?
The performances by the actors were good, but the playwright painted his points in rather broad strokes. And it could have been thirty minutes shorter without sacrificing anything important. Definitely a bit self-indulgent.
Nothing like having a word count to keep one’s writing tight – it’s good discipline. Here’s the latest column and calendar.
Postscript: I just heard that Jan Lyon, one of the founders of the National Leather Association, died recently. I'm sorry to hear that. I haven't seen Jan in years, but once, oh, a very long time ago, when I was living in Tampa, she and I hooked up through the NLA newsletter (yes, the kind that came in the snail mail, this was pre-internet) and had....an intimate evening together. She was just in town for one night, and I didn't run into her again for a long time. But the baby kinkster that I was had a lot of fun with her. Godspeed, Jan.
