Letter of the Day

"I've recently gotten into a bit of sex work, and so far I really enjoy it. Most of the clients I've seen have been nice guys who are respectful and fun to be around - at least for an hour, anyway. And although I'm still getting used to the idea of sometimes viewing sex, something so inherently personal and intimate, as a commodity, I feel a lot better about myself after making a guy's day by showing him some stress-free attention and getting him off a time or two than I do about (her other job.)

Honestly, I have about a million questions I want to ask you right, but I'll start with the one that seems most important so far.

What do you do when a client says something like, "You know, you're a smart girl; why do you do this?" First of all, could that be any more insulting? And secondly, why doesn't he consider how much money he's paying me? I do it BECAUSE I'm smart!

If someone I was dating had that attitude about my choice to do sex work, I'd kick him to the curb, but a professional setting is entirely different, of course. Money is the primary reason I'm doing sex work, not to educate men about sex-positive feminism. At least clients with this attitude seem to be the minority, but I haven't yet figured out how to deal with this issue.

But I expect more respect from someone with whom I've just had sexual contact, even if it was a business transaction. Is that the wrong mindset for a pro?"

Well, I can see both sides of this. I have certainly heard some version of this line myself, lots of times, and I do understand being annoyed by it. If nothing else, people who say it tend to act like no one could ever have possibly have said it to you before, when in fact, you’re heard it 943 times. Anything grows annoying with repetition.

One generally hears it from a man the first time he sees you, and one always hears it after the sexy part, whatever it is, has been completed. Having someone say this to you as they are literally pulling up their pants is enough to try the kindest woman’s patience.

(As I write this, I’m wondering: do male sex workers get this line? Either from other men, or from women? Or is this an exclusively male client/female sex worker thing?)

I am acquainted with the writer of this letter, and like me, she participates actively in the sex-positive community. Within that world – what I sometimes call “the love bubble”, a term I yoinked from Jane Duvall – being a sex worker is not considered highly scandalous, nor is it assumed to be the last refuge of the otherwise-unemployable. There is a range of opinion even there, but most folks will at least admit the possibility that a smart person might decide to be a sex worker for all the right reasons.

But we must remember: most clients of sex workers do not come from the sex-positive community. They live in a world where being a sex worker can never be viewed as a smart choice. In that world, a woman who “sells her body” (and what a stupid phrase that is) must be either morally corrupt or too dumb to have any other options.

If you’re a sex worker hearing this line, take comfort in the fact that at least the client has realized you don’t actually fit that description. I myself have certainly met sex workers who were as dumb as a box of rocks, so also understand that the guy may well have personal experience of that cliché.

True, it’s exasperating to have to deal with the assumption that while he is saying you’re smart, he somehow also thinks you were unaware that you could do something else for a living. But try to be charitable and assume that you rocked his world so much you temporarily lowered his own IQ fifty points or so. It's better for your own blood pressure if you can frame it to yourself not as "He has no respect for me" but rather as "I am a new experience for him."

One of the many unacknowledged roles of a sex worker is to be a sexuality educator. This is a teachable moment. So don’t answer from a defensive place, that’ll close the door on an opportunity to raise his consciousness. My suggested response? “Well, in my world, this is not viewed as something that smart girls don't do. I like sex, I'm completely comfortable with my sexuality and other people's as well, so I enjoy this. My friends think I'm very smart for doing something I like and making extra money too!"

If you are the client of a sex worker: do not say this, okay? You may think it’s a compliment, but it’s actually the reverse: it suggests you expected her to be an idiot. And she’d have to really be an idiot not to know she has other options. She’s choosing to exercise this one, and you should assume that she knows more about her life than you do, and that she’s better positioned to make choices.

If want to make pillow-talk about your everyday lives, you could say, “So, a girl as smart as you must have lots of other irons in the fire. What do you do when you’re not making people glad they’re alive?”

This week's column in The Stranger - which is sure to be a flame-inducing free-for-all, based on the thread a mere mention of it spawned on a social site I visit - about a system of polyamory I'm not particularly in favor of: The One-Penis Policy.

Today is Monk's birthday.

As I have mentioned every year for the last five years, there are a lot of amazingly cool things about Monk. And still, every year I know him, he develops more.

Monk and I often remark to each other that we both do the impossible, every day. By that we mean: our whole crazy poly sexy kinky busy lives, which, by all conventional wisdom, should not work. And yet they do.

But at the risk of making him sound like Laverne and Shirley, Monk has never heard the word "impossible." It's a charming and occasionally terrifying trait in him, but no one who loves him would have him any other way.

I'm very glad you were born today, sweetheart. Have a happy, happy birthday!

Pro Domme Advice O' The Week

I am an aspiring professional mistress and though I am working on learning techniques, etiquette, and the like, I am worried about the legal implications of this line of work. I have looked in many places, but can't seem to find a straight answer. So, I was wondering if you could tell me anything you know about the law in relation to BDSM in Washington state and the Seattle area. Also, I was wondering if you have any advice for a beginner?

Nope, I don't give legal advice. So what I can tell you about the law in this matter is that you need to pay a lawyer to explain it to you. And even after they explain it to you, it's still going to be murky. That's how the law is written - you don't get a simple Ten Commandments, you get a great big mess of codes and definitions and exceptions that's nearly impossible for a layperson to understand. That's how lawyers stay in business.

But you should indeed be concerned about the legal implications. I have met women who thought being a pro domme was a sex worker's "Get Out Of Jail Free" card, and oh, that ain't the case. Pro dommes don't arrested as much as some other kinds of sex workers, but it happens. Take New York City, for example: they had full-on, multi-room pro domme houses going there for years without any real trouble. Recently the political atmosphere changed, and boom, cops came in and shut a bunch of them down. That's how it goes.

We are like strippers, in a way. It's entirely possible to be a stripper, or a pro domme, and not do anything illegal. But it's also quite possible - and even probable - that at some point, you're going to cross a legal line. When you do, you might get arrested for that. Most of the time, you won't. But you can't completely rule it out.

And actually, that's true of a lot ordinary people, too. They break laws every day. There are so many laws about so many things, and they are so confusing and complex, there's almost no way you could not. In the first five minutes if this truly excellent video with Professor James Duane, he talks about how there are thousands upon thousands of laws about crazy things you'd never even think of - but someone did, and there's something on the books about it.

So if law enforcement feels someone needs to be arrested, they’ll find something to charge them with. Whether they get a conviction or not is a whole other issue. However, you definitely need to assume that you might get arrested, and you need to make a plan about how you're going to deal with that personally and financially. If that would ruin your life forever - you'd lose custody of children, or jeopardize a dreamed-of future career, or be disowned by your family - then don't be a pro domme.

Let me also kindly point something out, dear girl, both to you and to the many other women who write me letters just like this all the time. It's a bit naive of someone who lives in my city and plans to practice my art to ask me for general business advice. Technically, I'm your competition, and successful businesses do not stay successful by nurturing their competitors.

Now, I'm not really-really your competition, because I rarely meet new people anymore, and there's plenty of business to go around. But still - if you wanted to open a high-end restaurant with a great view, and you went to the owner of Canlis and asked him for advice, what do you think he'd say? If he were polite, he'd say something like, "Well, it takes time, and you have to work hard." That's about all, I imagine, and rightfully so.

I believe in being courteous to other mistresses, and I absolutely believe in sharing information about physical safety and mental health. But I'm not inclined to give away the hard-earned secrets of my success - I'm actually still using them, thankyouverymuch.

So watch the video. Also, read this. Go here, enter this blog's URL and search for "sex work" and read all the tons of advice I've given about that in the last five years. Then hire an attorney and tell them what you want to do, and listen to their advice. And then make your choices.

A charming man pointed me to this blog entry on a BDSM-themed blog. It's about the concept BDSM people call "topping from the bottom". That's a pejorative term applied to bottoms in a BDSM scene who are too bossy and try to control the top and run the scene.

I admit I have used the phrase in conversation myself, but I think in general it's better to avoid it. It's shorthand, and if you and whoever you're talking to have a very clear understanding of how you're using it in context, it's a useful, if lazy, term.

But it's sort of like the words "bisexual" or "kinky" - both those terms encompass all kinds of attitudes and behaviors, any of which may or may not be true, and if someone doesn't clarify exactly what they mean, a lot of mistaken impressions will result. What does it means to be topping from below? Depends on the top. I myself am not usually bothered by some suggestions, as long as they're offered in an appropriate spirit. Other tops don't want any input once the scene has started.

So it's definitely unprofitable to just bluntly inform someone, "Hey, you're topping from the bottom," as that's both a vague and an uncomplimentary phrase. I advise approaching the matter more diplomatically. "I have an idea! Open your mouth, we're going to use this gag!"

Random Pull From The Mailbag

I reached your article from a mention of "hot-bi-babe syndrome" (which term I was not familiar with) in a Best-of-Craigslist post and an internet search. I found your article interesting and informative, but was confused by your statement that "I'm poly and bi, and there's no way I'd be in a triad relationship, mostly because I think it's an extremely difficult arrangement to sustain."

My understanding is that polyamory is usually defined as a relationship involving three or more persons. Ah, a moment, I just checked Merriam-Webster, and they have "the state or practice of having more than one open romantic relationship at a time". OK, I think I am able to answer my own question.

I was going to ask if a four or more person relationship didn't have some of the difficulties of triads, and that was why you made that statement. But you are saying you are open to having more than one relationship partner, but having those relationships in one multiple-partner relationship is too difficult, in your opinion, so you are interested in one or more relationships, each having its own partner, without cross-connection. Am I on the right track?

Well, I think you get it, although you're phrasing it a little oddly. I would not say a triad was one relationship. But that's mere semantics.

To say it's "too difficult" is putting it mildly. My observation is that it's extremely difficult to conduct a long-term triad. Not saying impossible, but very challenging. I have never done a quad relationship (four people), although in some ways, I think it might be a trifle easier than a triad.

And you may also say that I am considerably more than open and interested. I have never in my life been willingly monogamous. I tried, once or twice, a long time ago. It never worked, because I am not wired that way.

So I've been identifying myself as polyamorous since I was about twenty. I have used different words to talk about that, as the language and culture of polyamory grew and became more sophisticated. And it took me years and years to get good at being poly. Along the way, I made every mistake there is, and I'm sure I invented a few new ones.

Now, I have ongoing intimate relationships that are sexual and loving - and yes, kinky - with more than one person. I don't require a lifetime commitment, but I do not generally do one-night stands. I'm definitely not a swinger, and I don't usually go to bed with more than one person at a time. So yes, all of relationships are quite separate.

In closing, I must just say to you: thank you so very, very much for looking up the word polyamory. I am heartened to see someone actually use the vast array of information at their fingertips, instead of sending me an email saying, "hey whatz X-word-that-I-could-just-fucking-Google mean?" I am so sincerely pleased and happy that you did that and told me about it. Yay you.

The latest installment of the web-cast series about polyamory, Family.


I can't say I really understand where this is going, plot-wise. But it seems to be getting good press: Newsweek did a nice piece on the Seattle producers. And Dan Savage weighed in on it here. So I won't quibble on artistic grounds...

A new Stranger column about a delicate matter: sex workers and race.

Like many of my Stranger columns, it's a subject that deserves far more discussion than I have space to give it. But I think it's worth introducing the ideas, and I hope they stir more discussion in others...

The Weather Outside Is Frightful

The Mistress is cranky about the heat. I know, I know, I don't like snow, either. So persnickety am I.

I admit that the heat is easier in some ways - I can drive in it, for example. And it hasn't yet made my power go out.

But while I can feel sexy when it's snowing outside, I cannot feel sexy with a constant trickle of perspiration running down my back. It's like wearing a latex catsuit, all the time. And while dewy women can be alluring, the charm of that wears off quickly. Like after about half an hour or so.

Still, at least no one provokes me into a towering rage by cooing at me about how pretty the heat is. I should find all those snow-loving, "Oh look, it's just like a postcard!" people and torment them by talking about how wooooooonderful record-breaking, 100-degree heat is. Walking in a summer wonderland!

Complete and unedited email I got recently...

SUBJECT: my 3 guesses at what your fetish is that you indulge with Milo

1. He is an amputee
2. He has a very large/small cock (is that 2 guesses?)
3. He is Chinese

I get the most weirdly random email. I’m usually good at connecting apparent non sequiturs to a subject that makes sense, but this one took me a full minute or so.

What happens is: someone Googles some odd term or other, finds a page of my blog, reads it, but doesn’t note the date. And then they write to me commenting about a post from, say, five years ago. As if it would still be uppermost in my mind.

First things first: this letter is made of fail. The idea of race as a fetish is offensive to me. I am also repulsed by the idea of fetishizing people because they have lost a limb. For the record, I have had partners of all races, and I have been sexual with handicapped people. But people are not fetish objects.

I suppose you could say that someone fetishized cocks of a certain size, because cocks are sort of objects. Sort of. They happen to be attached to people, so I’m not crazy about that characterization. I’ll allow it, given that the owners and operators of cocks often speak of them as separate entities with autonomous government, and we're playing fast and loose with the literal definition of the word "fetish" anyway. But clearly the writer does not understand that women don’t usually fetishize body parts the way men sometimes do.

Other point of failure: this writer is also confusing two different people. Milo was a man I mentioned playing with, but Mike was a secondary partner of mine a little more than five years ago, before I started seeing Monk.

And Mike was not into BDSM, which I mentioned in a post I wrote about him, and I said there was a certain thing about him that I found particularly sexy, but I declined to say what it was. I was purposely rather oblique, but I’m willing say more now.

There were plenty of obvious reasons to like Mike: he was handsome, charming, intelligent, and he also proved to be good in bed.

He was also completely not-jealous and drama-free. That was a huge issue to me at the time - even bigger than it is now, which is still pretty big – because my previous relationship had ended in a firestorm of jealousy and drama.

Because of that, I spent several years skittering nervously away from anyone who even hinted they might get jealous of me. Someone I barely knew sent me a letter that was (I believe) intended to be sexy, and in it they mentioned being possessive. I think they were trying to impress me with their intensity, or something. But talk about the wrong thing to say! I all but took out a restraining order on them.

But Mike was perfectly fine with me showing up at random intervals, having a passionate evening, and then vanishing. No next-date setting, not much communication in between, and absolutely, positively no talk about where is our relationship going? It was great.

So you might say what I fetishized about Mike was his non-possessiveness. However, he did do this one thing that turned me on. He welded. I’m serious: he’s a metal artist, and he welded and worked in metal, and watching him do that was very sexy to me.

I do have a mild machine-sex fetish. Mild meaning: I rarely do anything about it, but it's fun to think about and I often think pictures of it are sexy.

But what I really have is a competence fetish. If I watch someone do something, and they are clearly very good at it, that can be a big turn-on. For example, watching Max do awesome rope bondage on people was what made me first say “Hey, that guy’s kinda cool.” I once got sprung on someone because she was a pool shark. Watching her just clean people’s clocks on the green felt table got me tingly. Looking at Mike’s art, and his tools, and seeing him do the whole make-the-sparks-fly welding thing? Yeah, that made the sparks fly for me, definitely. We had sex in his shop any number of times.

It was a charming arrangement and it was the perfect re-entry relationship. It ran its course, as relationships usually do. But it ended amicably, and Mike renewed my faith in the idea that it was possible to have a fun and affectionate casual-dating relationship without it leading to the type of insane drama that requires lawyers.

So would I get turned on by just any pool hustler or metal worker? No. But doing something manifestly well is sexy. Unfortunately for this person, he is demonstrating that letter-writing is not a skill he can parlay into hot dates.

I am gearing up for a busy seven days, and they’re going to be rather split-second in terms of timing. And somewhat schizophrenic in nature.

Today is easy. I'm about to spend some private time with a friend, and then I’m doing dinner and silliness and kinkiness with a group of my pals. But soon, who should arrive but - my dearest mamma. Which is all well and good, except that I’ll have to do a quick reversal of role.

You seem, my mother is a sweet, gentle woman who loves me very much. She would never raise her voice or argue with anyone. She wants nothing except that the people she loves be happy.

Occasionally, though, my mother gets ideas about what, exactly, would make someone happy. And once she’s decided that - oh, you better just get out of the way. Because she is a five-foot, one-hundred-pound force of nature with a southern accent, and she is simply not going to stop until she has brought about whatever set of circumstances she just knows will be best for her loved one.

I have developed a sort of emotional Aikido for dealing with my mother when she’s on one of her campaigns. You know - don't hurt her, just redirect her momentum. But I pick my battles. Whatever it is, unless you're highly skilled and really invested in not doing it, you should just choose to go along and be made happy by it. Believe me, it’s much simpler if you don’t struggle.

Fortunately, I think she exhausted a lot of her making-people-happy-whether-they-like-it-or-not mojo on my brother’s wedding in May, and besides, now she has a whole new set of people (my sister-in-law’s family) to interest herself in.

Just to make these few days even more fraught with the possibility of comic mishaps, my partner and I also have Midori staying with us. We love her, and she is the best and easiest house guest imaginable. She travels so much so has it down to a science, and she has a knack of flowing into a busy house so smoothly that you hardly now she’s there.

She often stays with us when she’s in town. In fact, my mother and her husband have met Midori at our house before. So when I told my mother Midori would also be here, she replied, “Oh, yes, your friend from San Francisco! She’s so nice, and so pretty. Tell me again, what does she do for a living?”

“Um…she’s an artist. Yeah. An artist. So, is there anything particular you’d like to do while you in Seattle, Mom?”

It used to be that this sort of worlds-colliding would have been flatly impossible for me to manage. But I’ve gotten more relaxed lately about people from my various worlds encountering each other. Still, some things challenge even my ability to keep a lot of balls in the air. Keep your fingers crossed I don’t send them all flying in the wrong directions.

Letters: Emotional Baggage

I'm looking for guidance on trying to discover just the kind of submissive I am or if perhaps my feelings are merely an expression of some self-loathing. I've read much and still am not certain about my own feelings or fantasies.

I was abused as an adolescent and humiliation, feminization and fondling were part of it. Some others I know that have had similar experiences have found sexualization of those experiences helps them gain control over those events.
I've never quite been able to master the experiences that way and have just compartmentalized them. Sometimes I'm successful. But, I find I continue to be drawn to being dominated, as I get close to it, the negative feelings of my past experience take over and I'm unable to continue.

I wanted to come to you for guidance because you seem to be very well regarded and in your years of experience, I thought surely you've encountered others like myself.

This is a nice note, and I have sympathy for the writer. And it’s flattering that this person thinks I can help him.

But I can’t. He says it himself: But…as I get close to it...negative feelings...I'm unable to continue. You see, I feel strongly that if you just listen to what people say, they will tell what you need to know. Most people don’t listen to what’s actually being said, they listen for what they want to hear. Or they listen for what they think they already know.

Both those habits will bite you in the ass time after time. And when they do, you are apt to say to yourself, “Dang, I should have known X would happen.” Well, yeah, you should have. Because someone in a position to know told you it would, but you didn’t listen.

For example, this man is telling me he’s not emotionally ready to do BDSM. I can see why. He’s got serious unresolved issues from the abuse he suffered. I predict that if anyone tried to do a BDSM scene with him, it would go badly. Why? Because BDSM is not therapy.

Let me give that a line all by itself: BDSM is not therapy.

One more time: BDSM is not therapy.

Are we quite clear about that, everyone? BDSM is great. It’s fun, it’s sexy, it’s intense, it’s life-affirming, it’s growth-enhancing, it’s stress-releasing, it is a lot of terrific things. But it is not therapy. You will not heal deep emotional damage just by doing BDSM.

It’s a terribly attractive idea, I know. I have personally seen a lot of folks try to use the bondage rack as a therapist’s couch. (I have seen extremely unethical people use it as a lure to psychologically-fragile partners, too, which I find despicable.) But I have never seen any indication that doing BDSM fixed anyone’s long-term emotional problems. Occasionally the feel-good endorphins and novelty of the roles can buoy up a troubled person, but only in the short term. My observation is that the crash from that high often leaves them worse off then they were before.

So, can a basically healthy person use BDSM to vent stress from one tough day at the office? Sure. Can you work through deep emotional issues like child abuse? I really don’t think so.

Thus, while I don’t share these issues and thus can’t speak to them from the inside, I am profoundly skeptical about “gaining control” of any past issues in this way. I will say that I would firmly decline to play with anyone who presented himself to me with such a motivation. I’m a dominatrix, not a therapist.

Being healthy and happy as a kinky person takes some work even for people who weren’t abused. The writer has got some work to do before he can do this from an emotionally healthy place. My advice to him and anyone is a similar position is: find a good therapist, if you haven’t already, and get clarity on this before you try to incorporate anything as highly complex as BDSM into an intimate relationship. And good luck to you.

I'm going to vent here for a moment about some internet silliness that occasionally happens to me.

Here's how it works: someone posts to a narrowly-targeted online community - one devoted to, say, BDSM or polyamory. They say something like, "I want to know how to communicate and be understood by people like you. I'm not one of you, but I wish to learn more about you."

I reply and explain some basic customs for dealing with us. For example: notice that we call ourselves polyamorous, not polygamous. Or: Don’t refer to anyone who likes a spanking now and then as a slave, that’s not accurate.

And then they reply, “Oh, you’re being way too nitpicky. You should just assume that I mean what you mean, it’s not important that I get all these details. You’re just trying to force me to be politically correct.”

Right. That’s me, all about the political correctness.

Rhetorical question: Why in the world would someone ask for my well-informed opinion about something and when I give it to them, get huffy and tell me since it doesn’t validate their assumptions, it can’t be correct?

That’s rhetorical because I know why. I know exactly why. It just makes me feel better to say it.

I just watched this video from CNBC about “high-end prostitution”. And it made me roll my eyes a lot.

Okay, on one hand, it’s really not bad at all. They have some great people in it, like Veronica Monet and Carol Leigh. They're fabulous. And the escorts they interviewed were all bright, articulate women who represented themselves and what they do very well. So from a strictly PR point of view, it’s fine.

What exasperates me is the fact that it’s a 40-minute slog over the same old clichéd ground. I didn’t see or hear one new thing in this video. In fact, I'll save you forty minutes and sum up the whole thing for you in a few lines…

“Women sometimes exchange sex for money. (Here’s some sexy pictures of women.) Sometimes a little money, sometimes a lot. (Here’s some more sexy pictures of women.) Some women like this and do it freely. Other women don’t. (Here’s some MORE sexy pictures of women.) Some people think this is bad, while others think it’s no big deal. Doesn’t seem likely to stop anytime soon. And, that’s our report. (Oh, here’s a few last sexy pictures of women.)”

That’s it. There was some focus on how the internet has changed sex work, which it very definitely has. For well over ten years now.

So - can any of this really be news to anyone past puberty? I mean, come on, people. This is not news. Perhaps you might classify it as a documentary. Perhaps. A rather dull documentary.

It’s like the editor had a staff meeting and said, “Okay, it’s time for something titillating but journalistically defensible. Give me a Number 317.”
“Okay, boss. That’s Expensive Call-Girl Story, right? Just the usual?”
“Yeah. Spin it out for forty minutes. Lots of pictures off the internet, and stock video footage of women putting on stockings and looking out windows. Put some footage of streetwalkers in there too, we gotta have some of those. And make sure you use that one voice-over actress, the one with the suggestive lilt. She could make a fast-food order sound like phone sex.”
“Sure thing. Have it on your desk by Thursday.”

This is a cookie-cutter story. It’s boring. It’s old. I mean, it’s really, really old. I think you can find the very first version of this story painted on a cave wall somewhere in picture form.

I get it that they have to fill up the hours. I get it that a lot of what’s called “news” is just entertainment. But good lord, with the resources at their disposal, you’d think CNBC might produce just one vaguely new and interesting thought in forty minutes.

Once again, I'm doing an informal survey from among the ladies of Seattle for a Stranger column.

The subject is a delicate one - it's about providers and race.

If you're willing to answer a couple of questions, and you can get back to me within 24 hours, I'd love to hear from you.

As always, all names will be changed. No identifying information of any kind will be seen by anyone but me, ever. (And I will never disclose it!)

Email me at MistressMatisse@gmail.com

This one made me laugh because... I, um, know some people who doe that thing about storeing food and water and stuff for an earthquake or swine flu or some other emergency. I tease them a little about it. And they reminds me that I'll be singing a different tune if there ever is an emergency when we need it.

My other thought was: I'm sorry, if one of my partner's partners was hanging around my house, drinking heavily at 9am, there would be some serious conversation between he and I about that. It would go something like this: "Take this girl out of the house, and never bring her back." There are a few simple but crucial rules for dealing with me, and one of them is: Do not bring your drama to my doorstep. Because I hate drama. You like drama? You have all the drama you want - somewhere else.

And a woman swilling jumbo cans of malt liquor in the morning and calling it "paradise" is drama waiting to happen. That's not a red flag, it's a red circus tent. No, it's a bright red hot-air balloon, and it's going to fall to earth very unpleasantly somewhere. But not on my house, no no. Because bottled water does not help you when that sort of disaster strikes.

Zombies. They’re sort of like bacon, aren’t they? (No, I don’t mean that you eat them. Everyone knows zombies eat us. We are the bacon, for zombies.)

I suppose you could say that bacon and zombies are alike in that they will both kill you if you don’t run far enough fast or fast enough.

But that’s not what I mean, either. No, I mean, zombies – like bacon - have been extra-fashionable lately.

Granted, I thought the whole bacon craze was a little much. I mean, I like meat-candy as well as anyone. But bacon martinis? No. And bacon on doughnuts? That is just wrong, wrong, wrong. We have to have some limits, people, or where will it end?

However, like bacon, zombies never truly go out of style. And what’s even more terrifying (to me) than zombies? Karaoke!

Thus, I am particularly disturbed, fascinated and highly amused by this blog, which features a bunch of zombie-themed parody song lyrics, with more added regularly. Apparently while zombies have a limited conversational repertoire (“Brains! Braaaaaaaains!), they like to sing. So, for your shambling, rotting karaoke pleasure, I give you: Zombaritaville.

I don’t blog about specific kinky products very much, just because every time I do, I get a flood of email from people wanting me to "review" and promote their kinky product, whatever it is.

There’s nothing wrong with marketing. But if I did a plug for everyone who asked me, there would be nothing but ad copy here, and that’s not what I want.

However, I am going to mention these, because I’ve been playing with one lately: Bodyhose. Now I know, this looks like an inexpensive version of the Wolford Fatal dress. I have that dress is three colors and I love it, but this is not a fashion post, it’s a bondage post. Because these tubes work very nicely for an encasement-bondage scene.

There’s something fun about covering up all of someone’s skin. I’ve tried saran-wrap bondage, duct tape, vet-wrap, spandex body bags, all the usual things. But these tubes are cool for several reasons.

They are easy to carry, and they are easy to put on someone – certainly way faster and easier than wrapping a person all in duct tape, let me tell you. (Not that it wasn't fun.)

And it’s easy to adjust the level of constraint. For someone new to bondage, or nervous about it, that’s a bonus. Basically, the more you stretch the tube out, the less pressure you put on the skin. Scrunching it up, or folding it in half, makes more pressure on the body. On the other hand, stretching the tube out covers more of the person – but thinly. You can see them, they can see out even if it’s over their face, they can breathe, all those things. But assuming you’ve restricted them in some way underneath it, they can’t get out. Big fun.

I will note that I have only put these on men. (I have seen a girl about my own size wearing one of these as a dress, and she looked as cute as could be.) But they are all one size. So a five-foot-five, 120-pound person is going to be less restricted in one of them than a six-foot-two, 200-pound person. Not that it couldn’t work, it’s just going to be a different experience.

If you have the tube stretched over them from head to foot, clearly your own access to them will be somewhat limited - although impact, clamps, and lots of other mean things work just fine through nylon. But if you want direct access to certain bits, then I advise getting two – one above, and one below, and the interesting parts exposed in the middle.

Have fun!

I uploaded a new podcast. In this one, Monk and I read and answer letters about polyamory. First, we talk about the not-so-good idea of comparing your partners. "Why can't my Partner B be more like my Partner A?" (Hint: Because they are actually two different people.)

Then Monk talks a little about his wife Tambo - and explains why he doesn't talk about her very often. (Hint: Because she is actually Keyser Soze.)

This is the last one we have in the chute, so we'll probably go record some more next week. Got complex questions about BDSM, polyamory, sex work, or brightly colored cocktails? Send them in...

(I have mentioned that I'm becoming a brightly-colored-cocktail expert, didn't I?)

I meant to answer some letters today, but I was endlessly tweaking my column right up to deadline. So instead, just some pop culture notes about that eternally fascinating subject - men.

I’m reading this book: The Score: How The Quest For Sex Has Shaped The Modern Man, by Faye Flam.
Flam is the science reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer and writes a weekly column for that paper called "Carnal Knowledge", about the science of sex. It’s an interesting subject: why are men the way they are? Who among us has not wondered?
Flam has a light, pleasant tone of voice. There’s a bit too much on the discovery of mitochondria and the evolution of sperm, but overall she keeps it moving.
But I will say: she ain’t Mary Roach. For me, when it comes to pop-science, it doesn’t get any better than Mary Roach’s books.

Also, I watched the première of Hung, HBO’s new series about a male-for-female escort. (Spoilers follow, if you care.)
It wasn’t bad. Frankly, it was much better than I thought it would be. The lead actor, Thomas Jane, plays the character of Ray Drecker with a deft touch. Ray is likeable but imperfect, and he’s definitely having a tough streak of luck. In fact, I sympathized with him so quickly, I kept thinking, “All right, all right, we get it. You’re not a slimeball. Go fuck a woman for money, we’ll still like you, really.”
HBO apparently thinks the average viewer might need more persuading. The virgin run of Hung stayed virgin. Drecker’s unseen first client changed her mind and slipped a turn-away fee to him from under her hotel room door. Hate it when that happens, but at least he got something!
This show has been called "Breaking Bad with prostitution", but it's not nearly as dark as that. I haven't seen all of that show, but the minute you saw Walter White, you knew he was a doomed man. Ray Drecker isn't.
And of course now I’m going to have to watch more of it just to see what happens. Arg. TV is such an insidious thing.

EDIT: Several people have forwarded me this story on the Daily Beast, about Hung and male sex workers. It's interesting.