Wow, I have had so much to do lately, and while I have had some lovely time with some of my boys, a lot of my week has been tedious stuff that’s not going to make you hot to read about. But you know, I do get ragged on occasionally for never writing about non-glamorous activities. I am certainly not trying to present my life as one big leather-lined orgy, it’s simply that the minutia of my daily life doesn’t seem that interesting for ya’ll to read about. But, hey, you asked, so here it is: trivia!

My cat is better. (And seriously, thank you for all the sweet notes I got about that.) She’s not all the way well, but she’s looking much less like a furry rag with eyes and more like an actual ambulatory mammal. So she’s going to make it, but I was seriously wondering about that for a day or so there. Oh, here’s non-glamorous trivia for you: I missed the Bondage Party Sunday night because I had to take her in to the emergency vet. My loving pet clearly viewed my attempt to get her medical attention as a non-consensual kidnapping scene, and she took her revenge by peeing in my lap while the vet was examining her. And I paid several hundred dollars for the privilege of that experience. The smell of cat pee in the heated car on the way home was delightful, I can tell you. Luckily I had the simple wit to wear my oldest jeans.

What else? Well, I had a meeting with my financial advisor yesterday. After years of living completely off the financial grid, it’s still very strange to me that I now talk to people about retirement investments. He said he might need to talk to my tax preparer in order to make the final decision about exactly what kind of IRA would be best for me, and so without thinking, I pulled out my tax guy’s business card and gave it to him. And then I thought, dear god, I used to pay my rent in cash because I didn’t have a checking account. Now I have people – real professional people - talking to each other about my money. I feel like I’ve become one of the pod people. I mean, it’s a good thing and all, but it’s just so bizarre. I’m an outlaw, baby - and yet somehow, I’ve also become this grown-up lady. Trippy.

Democratic House, Democratic Senate! w00t! I'm very, very happy.

But I have expectations. Okay, Blue Wave Winners, we elected you, so come January 1, you better get in there and perform. I will wanting to see some serious work being done about the world o’ crap that’s been visited upon us for the last six years. (Longer, if you count back to the “Contract on America” years…)

Actually, I like having a President be one party and the House and Senate another. I think balance is a good thing. I think this administration has been particularly venal and corrupt, but I also think if you give anyone too much unchecked power for very long, they get arrogant and complacent. I think we should fire all politicians periodically, make ‘em get real jobs for a while.

On another subject...I think due in part to my answering some letters here lately, I have gotten a deluge of "I need advice" emails in the last few days. I am touched by this show of trust in me, and I will pick some to answer in time. BUT! Be aware that if you write to me asking about sexual stuff and you tell me that you’re under 18, I will not answer you. Sorry, can't do it. It's way too risky for me. I cannot instruct a minor in sexual techniques or give a minor advice about how to find sexual partners. I just can't have any conversation about anything sexual with a minor anytime. You'd do better to ask Dan Savage, who is an established sex-advice columnist and who is not an active sex worker.

Now I’m off into the new, blue world – enjoy the latest column…

Okay, I know I've been really bad about writing this week, but I’m having a few un-creative days. For one thing, I’m a bit worried about my elderly cat, who is sick and not responding to her meds as well as I think she should. Another trip to the vet here, I think.

Plus, I’m distracted by following the elections, the outcome of which I am very pleased by, both locally and nationwide. Fuck you, Rick Santorum, fuck you, SD abortion ban, and fuck you, no-lap-dance-laws.

I've been busy with lots of appointments, too. Here’s one lovely tidbit. Remember this fun guy? I saw him again yesterday, and it was just as much fun kicking him in the balls this time as it was last time. One sort of kicks with the top of one’s foot, right above the toes. You get the best smacking sound that way. And if he indicates that it doesn’t really hurt that much, that means you haven’t got them tied up tightly enough. Fix that. You'll both like it better.

Vote. Seriously.

Everything Old Is New Again – At Least For Someone

I’m a busy girl today, so be amused by these letters highlighting the marvelous consistency of the human sex drive - sometimes it’s charming, sometimes it’s silly, but you can rely on it.

(edited for length)

…I'm dating a simply wonderful guy, with whom I have truly great sex…. He just expressed interest in having me penetrate him with a strap-on—he feels hesitant since it's something he's never done before and I think is a little worried about getting hurt, especially as it's something with which I have no experience whatsoever. Do you have any experience with or pointers for this? I'd love to do it…

Read this, and then go for it, he’ll be fine. Just remember, everyone squeals like that the first time. And tell your boyfriend he's a lucky man.

***

hi Mistress i was just on your web site and you are a very beautiful and dominating Mistress. i am in search of a Mistress who will travel to pa to kidnap me and totally enslave me and even brand me as their personal slave, sissy maid and toilet. so please Mistress i beg u come here just outside of philly actually near valley forge and take me home as your slave, sincerely slave jim (ps please i beg u give me your thoughts on this issue and i hope u are willing to make it a reality)

I know gas prices have dropped – and just in time for the election cycle, what a coinkydink! But really, in spite of all these requests, I think I’m going to have to limit my slave-kidnapping range to say, Portland to Vancouver. Sorry, Northeast boys. But hey, you could hitchhike in and call me from a rest stop, those are always good places to get kidnapped from.

(Note to the sarcasm-impaired: I’m kidding. Stay right where you are. Do not pass go, and for god’s sake don’t pass the Rocky Mountains.)

In more important matters: Go VOTE tomorrow, if you haven’t already. And seriously people – please vote Democrat. I am really not a bleeding heart liberal, I would call myself a very moderate Democrat, and from a pure-theory standpoint, I can see the elephant point of view on some matters. But good lord, people who are just pretending to be Republicans have totally hijacked the party that used to stand for fiscal prudence and less government interference in people’s lives. They’re all liars and thieves in there right now, or worse. I say, vote ‘em out!

And definitely reject that stupid nanny-state city law about the strippers. Is that really the kind of thing you want your tax dollars being spent on? Unbelievable. Go vote.

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I've gotten a slew of letters from people wanting sex-work advice lately. So tomorrow, look for a lengthy post answering them.

But today, the new column.

And I just have to mention this...I got a manicure yesterday and got my nails painted a deep red. Now, I think the last time I had a manicure was for my wedding. That was 1999. I am not a girl who bothers much about my fingernails. I think it's a holdover from my days as a lesbian. (Not that I don't know femme lesbians with nails that would put Barbra Streisand to shame.)

I used to paint my toenails, but some of my more enthusiastic foot-worshippers kept chipping the polish with their teeth. I had to patch it a lot, and plus I thought eating the polish couldn't be good for them. So I stopped.

However, one of my good clients, Jet, expressed a wish to see me with painted nails, and gave me a gift certificate to my salon to have that done. So I did. And it worked out so that I went straight from the salon to a session with him, and he liked it, so that was all just fine.

But now I have these red nails. I cannot recall ever having had my nails this color before. It's pretty, but it's sort of weird. My hands look like someone else's. Max looked at them and said, "Huh. Well, that's a different look for you."

I'm very concious of them - I'm sort of walking around with like, jazz hands, because I don't want to chip the polish, although it's inevitable that I will, of course.

I suppose I just want to acknowledge the girls who do this every day - this seems like a lot of work. Wow. I don't know how you manage it. I'm impressed.

Unconnected Musings

Fashion: Saturday night I did something I thought I’d never do again: I tucked my skinny jeans into my tall boots. Now, I was a little girl last time this was really fashionable, but I do remember it, and I remember how it can sometimes be a disastrously bad fashion choice, if one doesn’t get the proper combination of boots, pants, and hips. You must get dressed and then get a second mirror, so that you can take a good long look at your behind in a full-length mirror. And then one must be brutally honest with oneself about whether it’s really flattering.

I decided to take the plunge. I figured, hey, I’m going out to dinner on Broadway, and it’s Halloween weekend. People will just think it’s my costume. I was conscious that if I wore the funky little black fake-fur jacket I picked up in Chicago and teased my hair out a bit, I’d look exactly like every street hooker ever portrayed in a 70’s-80’s made-for-TV movie. So I decided not to. Being a hooker for Halloween is such a cliché.

Max liked it, so that was reassuring. But I still felt a little odd. I suppose it’s how my mother would feel if beehive hairdos came back into style. It’s the vague sense that while I want to keep my look fresh, I cannot claim ignorance if I wear this and wind up looking like a fashion Don’t, because I should know better.

But now, help me out, sharp-eyed readers. Is this coat the same as this coat? They look awfully alike. And I need to make a choice here, because one of my favorite guys (who I will hereby dub Armani, because he’s definitely one of the best-dressed man of my acquaintance) has said he wants to buy me a coat for my birthday. I think one of these is the one I want. I want him to look at it, because Armani knows from clothes when it comes to women, too. But really – are these the same thing?

Podcasts: I may start doing podcasts. I’ve been considering it, and one of the reasons I like the idea is that it’s something Max could do with me. He won’t blog, no matter how much I nag him, and he doesn’t want his picture floating around the web, but I think he’d be willing to talk, if I get the system in place, get the headset on him and ask him questions. I’m sure I’d have Roman on sometimes too, and we could have other guests, as well. It wouldn’t be an everyday thing, but I think I could put out something semi-regularly.

I haven’t decided about buying software and hosting it myself vs paying a specialized hosting company. In general, I'm a girl who doesn't mind paying for convenience, so I'd lean towards the hosting thing. But I'm concerned about getting into a TOS snarl because of course, I'll be talking about adult stuff.

A sharp-witted friend suggestion I ask The Stranger about hosting it for me, which I am going to do. Max said I might also ask Babeland – both outfits I’d be perfectly happy to plug in return for hosting.

Thoughts or suggestions about podcasting from active podcasters? Gray, I looked at the site for the software you seem to be using, and Minx, I saw that you're using a hosting company, yes? Anyone else want to weigh in?

Oh, and Happy Halloween!

Girls on Film

Every few weeks someone sends me an email that says something like, “Hey, how come you don’t make DVDs? It would be so cool, and you’d make lots of money.” And I noticed that Roman was getting some of the same remarks after he posted his video clips the other day.

Well, kids, I did produce a fetish video of my own*- about six years ago. And that’s how I know I’m not interested in making another anytime soon. Why? A lot of work. Legal risks. And not much profit.

See, at the beginning, I connected with a very cool guy with a lot of video experience, and we put together a concept. The technical end of lights, camera and sound was his job. I was the star, of course, but at the same time I was also the writer, the director and the producer, plus I also found all the talent.

And I discovered that being all those things was a lot of work. And I mean work, too, not like playing with my clients. I was surprised by that, because the co-stars were all pals of mine, and they were all just great. But when we were shooting, I could not relax and get into it, I had to direct from in front of the camera. It was not fun, it was not a turn-on, it was just - work. Max could tell you how cranky and exhausted I was after a day of shooting. This is how I know I was not supposed to be in show business.

So I was immensely relieved when we had all the footage we needed. And then my partner said, oh, we need some interview footage of you. So I did that. Redeeming social value and all, you know, have to cover one’s ass.

My partner went into his editing bay and in time produced a really nicely done, professional-looking video that we were both quite proud of. I have nothing to complain of on that score, he did a very good job.

He got two hundred tapes made and gave them to me. This was back when Paypal would still process payments for sexy things, so I put up a page on my site, and waited for the orders. Meanwhile, my partner hunted around to see what he could find out about getting it distributed on a wider scale.

Long story short: we couldn’t get a distributor. Since there isn’t any actual fucking in my video, just BDSM play, I can’t say I was hugely surprised.

Then, Paypal announced it would no longer process payments for anything even slightly adult. I tried other payment processing systems, but they all proved hard to use and unreliable, and people were understandably reluctant to trust them with their financial information. I considered getting a merchant account, but the costs were prohibitive and at that time, the credit card companies were levying heavy fees and complex rules on adult accounts. Going through all that to sell three or four forty-dollar videos a month would be absurd.

Next, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales and the DOJ made sweeping changes to the 2257 Regulations and declared war on porn. The legal challenge to the new law is still churning through the courts, I believe, but right now there’s no way I can fullfill all the legal requirements for adult entertainment record-keeping. The whole situation is very intimidating – just as it’s meant to be – and I don’t want to deal with it.

In the end, I sold those two hundred videos, which means I made my expenses back, and a little profit - the equivalent of about a week's gross in my regular life. Not exactly big bucks, when I think about how many hours of my time I put in for that money - some of it time in which I could have been seeing clients.

So another video? Let’s see, it’s a lot of work, and not that much fun, and not that much money. I have no easy, inexpensive way to collect payments for it. And I’d be plunging into a legal maelstrom of regulations, red tape, and repressive laws. Yeah. Not such a great idea from where I sit. Not when I make a very nice living, doing stuff I like to do, without having to worry about the feds coming to investigate me.

I suppose there’s a very slim chance I could do another one - after the next presidential election, if we elect someone less insane than the current crew. Even then I’d probably just do downloads, rather than fuss with shipping a physical product. And they would be - how shall I say? – informal. I’d say to the cameraman, “Look, I’m going to get kinky with my friend here, and you just shoot us. Stay out of my way, don’t talk to me, and whatever we get, we get. But I’m not going to try to act or perform for the camera.”

However, it definitely won’t be anytime soon.


(*Yes, on VHS. No, it’s not available on DVD. No, sorry, you can’t buy one, I sold the ones I had and I’m not getting any more made.)

Birthday Wishes

As some of you already know… I’m having a birthday at the end of November. (No, I’m not telling you what one.) I'm a trifle reluctant to write about things I want, because frankly, I have so many people in my life who are already so very sweet and generous that it seems unbecoming somehow. Still, some of my boys have been asked what I want for my birthday, and I promised to post a list.
So, let’s be clear: I don’t expect presents. They’re sweet and wonderful, and I enjoy them and think fondly of the giver when I use them. But they are not a requirement to being someone I like.

Without further ado… The Birthday List 2006.

Mystery Science Theatre 3000 collections. Yes, I know I’m a closet nerd. I don’t care.
Books –my Amazon list was a bit out of date, so I updated that. This looks good, and so does this, and this…
I need a new bathrobe. (White terrycloth is warm and classic for lazy mornings, although sexier ones are nice for in the evening. Size small.)
I still haven’t bought a good laptop case.
iTunes music cards.
Wolford. Always Wolford. I can't get enough of that stretchy slinky stuff. Feed my addiction. Or yours. Size small here, too, in black.
Silver trinkets.

People often just take me shopping rather than trying to guess what I want, so I'm expecting to do some of that too. Since my birthday is late November, when I was a kid, I’d often campaign for some large toy I wanted by claiming that I’d regard it as a combination birthday-Christmas gift. Looking back, I’m sort of amazed how often that worked on my parents, since inevitably by mid-December there would be something else I had my eye on.

But one of the pleasures of adulthood is that I can buy myself what I need. This coat looks like something I might like. And I need a new monitor, and a new digital camera, too, although I bet I wait until the holiday sales begin before I start looking for those. Ah, the joys of retail therapy...

This week's column and calendar. And to answer the inevitable query: Miss Candy can be found here...

(It's Tuesday night, actually. But close enough to being Wednesday...)

I had a very weird day Monday. Not good weird, either. Perhaps I’ll talk about it some other time.

But today was fine.

I had a good time being evil to Blue Eyes, with the able assistance of Jae.

I had dinner with Miss K.

I hung out with Roman and smooched and got my feet massaged. (Which was actually the second time that day I’d had that pleasure – Jae had also rubbed them earlier. It’s charming how the people who love me figure out what I like.)

I listened to a CD I bought over the weekend - The Scissor Sisters: Ta-Dah. Good stuff.

Now I’m going to get in bed early, cuddle with Max, and read of some the books on my nightstand: And Only To Deceive, de Kooning: An American Master, and All I Need to Know about Filmmaking I Learned from the Toxic Avenger.

And I’m going to think good thoughts about a dear friend who’s having surgery in the morning.

Into each life a little weirdness must fall. But I’m not letting it get me down.

New weird-sexual-word for the day: Jelquing. I saw it over on BitchLab and I followed the Wiki link because I had no idea what it was. Wiki reports that…

“Jelquing is a technique intended to enlarge the penis by increasing the blood pressure in the penis, with the goal of permanently increasing the maximum erect size of the penis. This technique, also called “milking”, involves wrapping the thumb and index finger around the penis while semi-erect and repeatedly drawing them away from one’s body to force blood into the glans, thus encouraging more vascularity in the corpus cavernosa and associated tissues. Whether jelqing actually works or not is a subject of controversy.”

Now, I have heard people use the word milking before - my two definitions for it are here. And I know what I call "wrapping the thumb and index finger around the penis while semi-erect and repeatedly drawing them away from one’s body"- I call that "playing with yourself". (Not that there's anything wrong with that...) Imagine if the hero of Portnoy's Complaint had been able to tell himself what he was doing was therapeutic body modification...

I suppose I now have a new word for my unusual-sexual-practices vocabulary, although I think if you seriously imagine this is going to change the size of your dick, the jelqu’s on you, heh heh. (Yeah, I had to go there. I watched some old MST3K episodes on YouTube this weekend, and it had an unfortunate effect on me. Expect bad puns for a few days.)

I'm having a nice day with Roman today - we went out last night and had steaks at the Metropolitan Grill, and slept in late this morning. Nice and relaxing after the rather hectic pace of both our lives lately.
So while I enjoy a mellow afternoon, I hope you enjoy the new column...

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For my clients: I am indeed back in town and answering my phone. I was totally booked for today, but someone just had to cancel his 2-4 appointment today. That leaves a hole in my schedule...

So! If I know you, and you call me by one pm, I could see you today starting anytime up until 4pm. Call me and we’ll talk…(And I do have some time in the rest of the week, too.)

***EDIT: I'm now booked for today. Thank you, gentlemen...***

As I go jump on a jet plane, enjoy the new column...
And have a lovely weekend!

Ring Ring!

Me: Hello?
Caller: I’m calling to get an appointment for tonight.

Um, no, actually, you’re not, darlin’. You’re calling to get politely brushed off. It’s a young-sounding guy, talking in a kinda rushed, distracted-sounding voice, like he’s driving too fast on his way to a meeting and just wanted to get this little appointment booked and out of the way. I don’t care for it.

When I get these gimme-an-appointment kinds of calls, I’m aware of a one-two reaction in my head. Just for an instant, I feel myself rear up in offended hauteur: how dare you call me up, expecting to get time with me just like that? Dirty boy, you think you can just snap your fingers and I’ll make myself available? Pah, do you know who I am?

And then my sense of humor and my firm grip on reality kicks in and I say to myself, yes, Matisse, he knows who you are. You’re a chick with an ad in the back of The Stranger, with a picture of you wearing a PVC bathing suit. So cut the offended-diva act, okay? Because I can’t really blame the guy. What he's doing is exactly how many sex workers conduct business with clients, and he has no earthly way of knowing that it’s not how I operate.

But those of you who know me are rolling about laughing at the very idea of a stranger getting a same-day appointment. It’s been years since I’ve done those as a matter of course. If you’re a friend, and you catch me when I’ve had a cancellation, then that’s a whole different matter. I don’t mind guys I know calling me up and saying, “By any chance…?” But it’s quite rare for all the stars to align properly for that.

Even if I’d had nothing to do, I wouldn’t book time with this gentleman. I’ve gotten extremely picky about new guys. Sometimes they just strike me wrong, like this guy, and sometimes it’s because they ask for scenes that don’t turn me on. I feel sort of mean sometimes, because I know I’ve disappointed some people who were probably very nice, but there it is. I blame it all on my regular boys, who spoil me so badly, and who keep me both busy and happy.

I almost feel like I should take my ads out of the paper. But I hesitate. For one thing, I know not everyone keeps my number stored on their cell phone, and guys I have met before may rely on seeing those ads to remind them of how to reach me. Too, the guys who only see me two or three times a year may assume I’ve retired if my ad vanishes.

I’m trying to think of some wording for an ad that suggests: “You can call me, but I’m not meeting very many new people.” Right now it says, “Selectively accepting new clients”. My intention was that selectively would be the key word there, but I think most guys just jump right to the accepting new clients part. It’s not like I won’t meet anyone new - but not terribly many.

And this caller has begun badly. I like people to at least say Hello, my name is X, before demanding an appointment.

Me: I’m sorry, I’m not available. Have we met? (Even though I know we haven’t.)
Caller: Not available?
Me: That’s correct.
Caller: Not even late?
Me: (Sigh) No. I make appointments from 2pm to 8pm, and I’m usually booked several days in advance. Right now I’m booked until the 19^th.
Caller: The 19^th?

Is there an echo in here? He’s repeating this back to me in this stunned voice, like the idea that I’m too busy to see him has set his universe on it’s ear.

Me: (slowly) Yes, the 19^th.

Caller: Oh, well, I’m a very impulsive person. It’s hard for me to book things more than two days in advance.

That explains why he sounds so rushed. I’d be rushed too if I never booked anything more than two days ahead of time. What it doesn’t explain is why he’s telling me this in a tone of voice that suggests it’s a problem I should solve.

Me: Then the odds of you getting to see me are quite slim, because I am always booked out. You’re welcome to try some other time, but….
Caller: There’s nothing you can do for me?

I detest that phrase. I am not a used-car dealer. Believe me, my dear, if I could reach through the phone and give you a smart slap on the ass, I would. Or perhaps on top of your head. Since I can’t, no, there’s nothing I can do for you.

Me: No, sorry.
Caller: I can come late, like twelve or one.

Oh yeah, because I want to book a midnight session with a stranger who calls himself “very impulsive”. Not. Let’s run down the possible outcomes of that.

A) He won’t show up at all – far and away the most likely outcome.

B) He’ll show up drunk and/or coked to the gills.

C) Unlikely but always possible scenario: The young Mr. Poor-Impulse-Control will show up and be a capitol-P problem. (Especially if he’s drunk or high.) It’s not like ladies don’t ever get hassled or assaulted in the afternoon. But there’s something in the phrase “nothing good happens after midnight” when it comes to one-on-one sex work. The later at night an appointment with a stranger begins, the higher the chances of it going severely sideways. Thus, I do not book such appointments.

Me: No, sorry.

Click. He hangs up. Some days I am so glad I’m a diva.

Travel Musings

A question for the world travelers… Max and I want to take a vacation for a week or ten days in March or April. Somewhere warm and beach-y, and somewhere we can get to in five hours (or less) by plane.

The problem is we have slightly conflicting ideas about vacations. My idea of vacation is to sit on the beach all day, reading trashy novels and drinking umbrella drinks. My big event would be getting a hot stone-massage.

Max can do that for a day or two, but then he gets bored and wants to explore urban areas and sit in sidewalk cafés (preferably ones with internet access) and watch people.

So: where should we go?

I’m thinking Mexico. Hawaii is great, and I’m not ruling it out, but I think it’s a bit expensive for what you actually get. I’ve never been to Mexico, but I hear it’s fun and pretty and quite pleasant if you know where to go.

I grew up in Florida, so I’m unexcited about the idea of going back there for a vacation, although I’m not saying I never would. The Caribbean Islands aren’t all that enticing to me, either.

I considered a cruise – I can do umbrella drinks next to a pool, if necessary - but Max did one years ago and was pretty meh about the experience.

Thus, I’m looking for various resort-type places that are right on the beach, but which near are an urban-ish area, so Max can go roam around the town. I realize I’m describing Honolulu, but I’m looking for other options as well.

Let me be clear: I do not want to experience the real (insert name of location here). I do not want to meet people. I do not want to learn new things. I do not want adventure. I do all that at home, thankyouverymuch. What I want is to give a large portion of my brain the week off.

So one of those big beach resort hotels, where you don’t have to think about anything, and with all the amenities we ugly American take for granted, would suit me fine. I’d also be open to renting a condo in a nice building. Something geared to adults would be my first choice, as swarms of screaming children tend to harsh my mellow.

I considered one of those clothing-optional places, but while I quite like swimming and lounging about naked, I am not a swinger, and I am utterly uninterested in going to drunken toga parties and “making new friends” in the hot tub.

So: suggestions?

Scheduling Note To My Clients

I’m going to be out of town from Oct 13^th to the 16^th, and I’m already booked for most the time before I leave - Thurs the 12^th is totally booked, for example. I will make perhaps one or two more appointments at most before my trip. So speak now, or hold your peace - not forever, though, just until I return. (Although I see that at the moment, I’m already booked up for the 17^th, too, and for Friday the 20^th.)
Yes, it’s hard to get time with me sometimes, but I hope my favorite guys will persevere.