A new column in The Stranger, with a kinky calendar too. (Ignore the random boldface in that column, that's some kind of web glitch, not any intentional emphasis of mine.)

Wow, it’s being a busy week around here, and in some unusual ways. For one thing, I have had rather non-stop feminine action in my dungeon lately. Jae has come over to play with me and several different boys, and then another cute girl helped me chastise a charming but naughty man, before admitting that perhaps she deserved a little spanking herself. I’m so used to seeing boyish behinds bent over my spanking bench that when I see a girlish one there, it’s like: Oh my, that’s a whole different kind of pretty.

Other interesting events: this week, I’m doing an overnight date with Armani. We’ve never done this before. So, new frontier!

We’re not traveling far away, but I think it’ll feel very removed from my daily world, and I’m looking forward it. It’s interesting, Armani and I know each other very well in certain ways – we’ve been seeing each other for some years now. But spending time with each other in a different context and surroundings will be – well, different. And fun.

I’m also spending time with friends who are here visiting this week. I need to get her go-ahead before I say who, but I predict I’ll have a kinky good time today. Imagine me being evil to a widely-renowned former courtesan and sex author/expert. (No, it’s not Belle De Jour. Although Belle, if you’re ever in town….)

But Matisse, you say, you're getting all teh sexy! You need to give us something sexy! Well, I heard a rumor – just a little hint, mind you - that that girl Hannah? Is all about her ass. I mean, ALL about it. Go see. I’m guessing you could even tell her you’re getting yourself off to her writing. I could certainly see how you might.

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P. S. If you have a shopping fetish, take note: my current eBay auctions end today, so carpe diem. There’ll be another round coming up in a few days, as I continue to purge tons of fetishwear and regular clothes that have been sitting in my closet, unloved, for way too long.

Ring ring!

Me: hello?

Caller: Are you a transsexual?

It’s nice when I know right away that an interaction is not going to go anywhere. It’s not like OMG, I’m so horrified, how could you even imagine I’m a tranny-girl? I have seen some incredibly lovely transsexual women, and lusted after one or two of them, although I have never actually been sexual with a tranny girl. A hole in my otherwise comprehensive sexual resume.

I’ve gotten sexy with lots of cross-dressed bio-boys, but that’s almost always a different matter. I say almost always because I suspect some of them were a bit mutable in their gender.

I note in passing that this guy is using the word “transsexual” as a synonym for “male-to-female transsexual”, as if there were no other kind. Tell that to my ex-husband, who was a woman when I first met him – at least on the outside – and who then transitioned into a handsome man. (At least on the outside.)

But I’m guessing this guy isn’t asking me if I shoot testosterone and bind my boobs. He’s asking if I’m a chick with a dick, as the parlance goes. Which tells me that he has no idea who he’s talking to, because if Mistress Matisse had a dick, I’m thinking word would have gotten around about that. You can do a lot with duct tape, as any drag queen can tell you, but if you’re prancing around the dungeon in outfits like this, well, that's going to be a problem.

So the tenor of my reply to him is not outrage about his perceptions of my gender status as it is displeasure with his rude and abrupt phone manner, and his obvious lack of preparedness for talking to me. I count to seven, slowly, before answering in a slow, biting drawl.

Me: No.

There’s a pause while he waits for me to say something else. I don’t.

Caller: But your ad is in the transsexuals section.

No, actually, it’s not. The Stranger does put the “Fetish” section right next to the “Transsexual” section, so he’s not a complete idiot. But last time I checked, the tranny girls all had the word transsexual or TS in their actual ad, which the bio-girls like me don’t.

But that's beside the point, because I don’t like the challenging tone of his voice. What, does he think I’m lying to him about this? “Whoops, you caught me, I actually do have a penis. Just kidding!” Not likely. The tranny sex workers I know are all pretty invested in making sure their customers know that they’re tranny. You don’t want to deal with a guy who gets an unexpected surprise there. It tends not to go well.

Me: I am not a transsexual. So if that’s what you’re looking for, you will have to look elsewhere. Goodbye.

I hang up. I’m pretty sure that he was not, in fact, looking to meet a tranny Mistress. But I’m also pretty sure that I didn’t want to meet him.

A female pal of mine who blogs got a comment on her journal the other day that unsettled her a bit, and she asked me to look at it and give her my opinion.

This anonymous person basically said he’d been reading and jacking off to her journal for some time now. This girl is not a high-profile blogger, but she gets a trickle of traffic. And she does occasionally mention mildly sexy stuff, but she’s not at all what I’d call a sex blogger. I rolled my eyes at the idea that some guy is wanking to her descriptions of the weather, her recipes, and her musings about her inner life. However, it’s entirely possible.

He went on for a few sentences about his whole emo-masturbatory process, in a sort of New-Age intellectual way, meant to suggest that he had some kind of insight and real intimacy with her. Insight and intimacy based on his spanking the monkey to her blog. Right.

And then he ends it all up with, “…but don’t worry, I’m not going to stalk you.”

What an asshole.

Her question was: did I think this guy might really be a danger to her? No, I don’t. I have learned to threat-assess odd behaviors rather well in the course of my career in the sex industry, and my read of his comment is that this man is speaking the literal truth: he’s not going to inappropriately place himself in her real life.

But a comment like that suggests to me that he does want to reach through the internet and scare her, just a little. It’s like saying, “I’m not going to do anything bad – but let me just remind you that I could.” It’s a petty little power trip, designed to make sure he has her attention, and to make sure she spends some time thinking about him and how she might be vulnerable to him. And it worked, she did.

There’s an archaic term for prostitutes: “a public woman.” As opposed to a woman who stayed in private, in the home of her father or husband. The implication being that if you were a public woman, and someone tried to mess with you, well, you were basically asking for it, because you had made yourself public property.

I am definitely out in public, and I could tell you story after story about weird little shit people do to try to fuck with sex workers from a safe anonymous distance. However, I don’t want to give anyone ideas. Suffice it to say that some people have way too much time on their hands, and a desperate need to feel powerful over someone, ever random strangers they’ll probably never even be in the same room with.

So I walk around in the world assuming that wrong people are going to display inappropriate interest in my doings, and that given the slightest chance, those same wrong people will attempt to inject themselves into my thoughts and influence my actions, and that I must be ready to repel such attention. I rarely even think about it very consciously anymore. It’s just life in the big city of sex work.

But her getting that comment pissed me off, because she’s a sweet kid and she doesn’t need that shit. It’s not as if I thought only women who wrote about sex ever got creepy little people saying inappropriate things to them. I’m guessing it’s a rare woman who hasn’t had this happen. But every now and then one sees a particularly annoying manifestation of truly tacky behavior.

One More Weekend Fashion Post

A question for my sharp-dressed readers: I want a pair of gray fishnets, or something sort of like fishnets, and I'm struggling to find them. I have a cool pair of retro gray snakeskin ankle boots and they are just crying out for the right hose. I'm not tall enough to pull off contrasting hose with them, so they must be gray. And not just plain tights, that would be boring. I'll be wearing fairly short skirts with them, so they should be pantyhose, not thigh-highs.

Wolford has let me down here, so I'm turning to you. Any suggestions on where to look?