As I continue to take a few days off from writing... the new Stranger column: 2006 Sex News In Review.

And: this is how my sweetheart Max was entertaining himself (and a number of other people) New Year's Eve doing while I was drinking champage and taking dirty pictures of cage sex. (Warning: sexy bondage photo!)

There are some other NYE photos of this bamboo tripod in use, too. I'm hoping to see some of them posted over on another blog.

You know, I think I’ll take the week off from actually writing in this blog and just show you New Year's Eve pictures instead.

Like this one of Miss Candy sitting on top of the cage. A dangerous place to sit when it's busy. Note the arm already snaking up to unzip her latex gown.

There was plenty of sexy action.

The people watching were amazed that they could move around so much in there.

And there were plenty of appreciative watchers, too.

But while naked people in our cage is something of a NYE party tradition, the cage wasn’t the only party hotspot. More on that tomorrow…

Oh, my god, did I have a good time New Year’s Eve. I have a lot of party pictures, and a number of stories, but for today, here’s a cute one of two happy guests doing piggy-back bondage...



And one very sexy one of some hot naughtiness in the cage….
More stories soon…

One more family-holiday highlight: I turned my mother on to the Fatboy Slim music video, "Weapon Of Choice", which she loved. She has a major thing for men who dance. And like many people, she actually didn't know that Christopher Walken was a trained dancer. She insisted we watch it about four times in a row and I had to swear to send her the link for it. Very cute.

Okay, have to run, I'm gearing up for a very festive weekend indeed. Hopefully I'll get some pictures from the annual New Years Eve debauch that I can post...

New Column in The Stranger...

Today I fly home. My power is on, I'm not traveling anywhere for a while, and there are no major holidays coming up. I'm really, really looking forward to getting back to my usual happy, kinky routine...

Well, I had a nice Christmas day, and if you observe Christmas, I hope you did too. I’m not the biggest Christmas fan. Left to my own devices, I’d probably swap a gift or two with my loved ones and then spend the day hanging out quietly at home or going to a movie.

But my family makes a big deal out of it, so I go along. It’s interesting to be down in Georgia again. My relatives have been coming out to Seattle a lot lately, so it’s been two years since I visited. Max tells me that just a few short hours after we stepped off the plane, my southern accent was back in full force. I believe him – it took me some time to un-learn it when I moved north, but I didn’t want to sound like a hick. Thus, if you see me within a few days of my return Wednesday, don’t be surprised to hear me drawling and ya’ll-ing…

Notable moment: Max and I were at a large family party being given by my mother’s husband’s daughter. (That’s a mouthful, isn’t it? But saying “my stepsister” seems odd, given that my mom married this man when I was in my mid-twenties, and I hardly know her.) Anyway, suffice it to say that this lady and her husband are both gracious and genteel people, if rather conservative, and definitely not the sort to whom one would make lewd jokes. Max and I and a half dozen other people were sitting around the enormous mahogany dining-room table, finishing dessert after a buffet luncheon. Everyone was perfectly groomed and dressed in the usual way of well-to-do Atlantans, and everyone was, of course, on their very best social behavior.

Our host – who has the air of a man who might actually be a lot of fun if you got him alone and gave him a few drinks – was commenting on his impatience with their rambunctious pedigreed dog.

“You need to give Daisy her Christmas present,” his wife observed.

“I did!” He explained to the rest of us that he’d bought the dog an electric collar – the kind that gives the dog a small shock when it barks, thus inducing it to be quiet. Max and I exchanged glances. I own an electric dog collar, too. But I don’t put it on canines. I strap it around the genitals of human boys and zap them. It’s big fun.

The host went on.“And I put it on her, but it’s not working, Daisy's still out there barking like crazy.”

Without missing a beat, Max piped up. “Maybe she likes it.”

There was a momentary silence and then a titter of nervous laughter around the room, and I elbowed him under the table. My step-brother-in-law gave Max a look. “We’re not going to get into that conversation.”

But one corner of his mouth twitched.

It was sunny and seventy-something degrees on Tybee Island today. I could have gone swimming in the ocean.
Maybe I should come down for Christmas more often.

Spent a lovely day in Atlanta, and today I hop a plane over to Savannah to see my father. He actually lives on an island off the coast of Georgia, Tybee Island. Tybee is an interesting place in a time-capsule kind of way. Twenty years ago when my father bought his house there, it was a funky little beach town with a very sort of late-sixties look and feel to it. It was certainly not a moneyed place, not like Hiltonhead or Sea Island, and while it's slowly getting gentrified, it’s still pretty working-class. But he likes it, and the beach is gorgeous. I miss southeastern beaches.

Okay, last picture from the Malixe shoot, until I get back to Seattle and process some more…I think the three of these make a nice triptych.

I'm safely in Georgia. (That is, if one can ever be said to really be safe in Dixie when you're as big a flaming pervert as I am.) It was an uneventful flight - so I didn't leave bruises on Max's arm from squeezing it. At least not any serious ones. I'm a rather nervous flyer. But as long as I have half a Xanax and someone's arm to clutch, I get through it okay.

Here's a new column...

Here's a new picture... I don't recall when I was threatening to do to her in this one, but I love the expression on Jae's face. The body language says, "Yikes!" but the smile says, "Come get me!"

Enjoy...

Okay, we got power back at 3:30 Tuesday afternoon. And after running around like a madwoman for the rest of the day and evening, I think I actually got my life caught up again after five days of it being in suspended animation. My clothes for Atlanta are sitting out on the bed, ready to be packed, the house is warming up nicely, the dirty laundry is done, the stinky refrigerator is cleaned out, the bills are paid, my column is written, and my cat is sleeping blissfully on top of the heat vent.

So, back to our regularly-scheduled kink. Remember that shoot with Malixe? That seems like about a million years ago. But I have some more pictures.

Malixe does good posed portraits, but I have to say, I think his greatest strength is how he captures the more candid shots, with more than one person. He caught some of Jae and I that I love. Here’s the first one, I’ll post another one Thursday and another Friday… They’re all sweet alone, but I like them as a series best. Jae’s creamy Celtic skin is so pretty in this one. (Large image, not at all work-safe.)

Meanwhile, I’m off to Georgia. I plan to revel in soul food and barbeque when I'm in Atlanta with my mother, and in fresh warm-water seafood when I’m out on the coast with my dad. The slightly warmer weather and the fatty, really-bad-for-you food are the best things about going down to Georgia. That, and the shoe outlets, of which there are many in Atlanta. Many, many. No Wolford outlet, more’s the pity. (Although I know someone who’s going to the one in Vegas this weekend, the lucky duck.)

Bye!

One Down, One To Go

Some progress has been made: I am told that power is on at my dungeon, but as of 6pm Monday, it was still dark and cold at the house where Max and I live.

Anything could have happened since then, though. That's the only bad thing about not having electric answering machines anymore. For all we know, the lights came on ten minutes after Max left. Since my cat doesn't have opposable thumbs, she doesn't answer the phone, and thus cannot give us any updates.

But I'll be swinging by there early on my way to the dungeon, hoping for the best. Max and I would love to be able in pack for the trip to Atlanta without our fingers turning blue, and sleeping in our own bed for one night before we're in my mother's guest room for a week would be nice too.

I'm sure you're tired of hearing me fuss about the no-electricity situation, but hey, I hate being powerless! When I get back to my normal kinky mindset, I do have more pictures to show you. But at the moment, they're marooned on my dark and silent desktop and thus, you must bide your time while Max and I unwillingly compete in the "Last People To Have Their Power Restored In Seattle!" contest.

Now I must write a Stranger column. It's hard to write something witty and entertaining when one's own sights are set at a much lower point on Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Perhaps I'll pull some letters from the email file to inspire me...

Sunday 11pm: Still without power at both houses. I am extremely cranky. Did I say extremely? I meant extremely. I'm right in the middle of what one might laughingly call Seattle's urban core, and I might as well be right back in the boondocks of Florida. Grr.
I'm hoping Seattle City Light gets itself together to get my power back on Monday. (Of course, I've been hoping that every day for three days now.) If you have time booked with me before I go to Atlanta, call me and touch base. My internet acess is spotty, but the phone is on.
And anyone who's ever wanted to do a scene with me where I pretend to be furiously angry and proceed to beat you within an inch of your life while viciously scolding and berating you, well, you just get yourself a Seattle City Light uniform and call me. I'll make you such a deal.

(Edited to add: Yes, yes, yes, I know it's not City Light's fault the power went out. I know they're trying to fix it. But I have to vent somehow, and I think beating a man in a hard hat and a tool-belt would be a charming way of doing that. Or maybe I should get someone to pretend they're a City Light executive. That would be fun.)

Okay, kids, here's the post-storm report from Matisse and Max. We're still without power - it went out at 2am Thursday. It's out at both my dungeon and our house, which is a bummer.

Friday morning I went to my gym to shower, and re-arranged my session for the day as an outcall, thinking power would surely be back on in one of the houses by nightfall.

Wrong. And of course every hotel in town was booked to the rafters, so we spent a cold Friday night sleeping on a mattress we dragged up close to the pretty but not-very-efficient gas fireplace, with my cat huddled up with us.

Tonight, though, rescue came in the form of Matt, who loaned us his beautiful and extremely comfortable studio to stay in. We had numerous offers from dear and kind friends to put us up, but frankly people, when I'm this cranky, I am no fit houseguest for anyone. And I am cranky.

But I'll live. There's a line I use when I'm pissy about something and trying to get over myself: "Oh, I hope it's the worst thing that ever happens to me." If this is the worst thing that ever happens to me, I'll be all right.

Thank you again to all the super-fabulous people who offered help of all kinds to us. Your thoughfulness is much appreciated. Everyone else, keep your fingers crossed that we get power back soon.

This week's column: wacky phone calls.

Also, there's just one more day to bid on the Strangercrombie auction package that wins you a session with me, some of Monk's rope, and various other kinky goodies. It's for charity, people, so feed the hungry and get your kink on.

Bye!

I seriously lack the time to write today. So – here’s a few more pictures! I got a spiffy new camera for an (early) Christmas gift, whee! I took some shots around the dungeon to test it out.

My trusty bondage chair, custom-made for me by Mr. Wood, my favorite carpenter. I have spent many happy hours standing in front of this piece of furniture.

A bin full of nasty spanky things. And some spreader bars.

One of my toy cabinets. I know exactly where everything is in there.

One corner of my dressing room. Once, a rather silly man asked me, in reverent tones, if he could see “my shoe closet”. He was imagining neat rows upon rows of carefully arranged fetish footwear. Whereas I was thinking, “You put shoes in a closet? Huh. Who knew?”

When I took the picture of my dressing room, I thought: someone is going to ask "Uh, Matisse, what’s that weird thing on the dresser?" The short answer is: Nerdy’s favorite toy. Really! Would I lie? She loves it. She just pretends to think it’s an abhorrent Teutonic crime against nature. Clicky here to see it up close and personal!

(Edit: I'm kidding - Nerdy has never used that toy, Roman and I just tease her about it for no reason - other than the fact that we're mean.)

I got a CD of pix from Malixe yesterday, yay! I need to go through them and pick out my faves. But for now, here’s a semi-candid shot of Jae and I horsing around.
Possible caption: “Why the hell didn’t I bring my strap-on?”

Edited: Clicky-click for the bigger version, so we don't mess with people's display...

Yesterday, as the final event of a jam-packed week, I did a photo shoot with my friend Malixe. I should get the raw images from him today or maybe tomorrow, so I hope to have some fun pictures to show you soon. Malixe isn’t a full-time professional shooter, but he does very good work and because he’s a pal, I’m very relaxed working with him, which is nice. It’s a pretty laid back situation compared to my other shoots – I do my own make-up, and I don’t do anything special to my hair, which means that while the results aren’t as polished and glam as, say, a Tommy Edwards shoot, in some ways they look more like my everyday self.

We had been doing some shots that centered around my feet and stockings, since I’ve had a lot of requests for those lately. I had just changed into my black mesh catsuit when Jae showed up to keep me company and participate in the shoot.

She also showed me some of her fun new make-up finds. As with music, I am not uber-hip when it comes to cosmetics, and I need people to tell me what to buy. Even when they do, I’m not all that skilled with it, so I tend not to bother. Some things I do wear all the time, like mascara and eyeliner. I understand how to do those, and they work. Eye shadow, on the other hand? I often get suckered into buying it, because the colors are pretty and those cunning little containers make it look like candy. But I wind up taking my index finger and rubbing a little of one color on my eyelid and that’s about it. And in an hour or so, it’s gone. Powder blush is the same deal, and I have never gotten the hang of cream blush, it always looks like clown paint on me. I cannot wear liquid/cream base because I always look like I’m wearing a mask, so I just wear pressed powder.

I love lipstick, both because it’s pretty and because I feel so girly putting it on, but most of the time, it only stays on a short time before it, too, mysteriously vanishes. Maybe I’m kissing too many people. But I think there’s just a tom-boy streak in me that’s subtly fighting the makeup. I keep thinking perhaps I should take lessons or something, but then I don’t bother.

Plus, I don’t really want to, because something in me doesn’t trust make-up. I mean, it lets you down, doesn’t it? It smudges, it fades, it smears. It’s inherently untrustworthy. I’d rather spend my money on various facial treatments, so I look okay without much make-up. But Jae informed me that I need to stop being such a make-up Luddite and gave me a Sephora list.

So I went over to the Sephora website. And good lord, there’s a lot of stuff there. I mean, yes, obviously there is. But I’ve never really looked at it all before. I’ve been in the store, of course - but you know what Sephora is like. After about five minutes, I’m all overstimulated with the hundreds of thousands of brightly!colored!shiny! things to look at, and I just have to leave. It’s like an ADD attack or something. I can hardly even focus my eyes, let alone make crucial decisions about Urban Decay vs. Stila.

But online you can look at one thing at a time and I like that much better. So now I have a Sephora list to work on. I'm not sure whether to thank Jae or smack her. Perhaps I'll do both. She'd like that.

Books on the Nightstand

The Ghost Map, by Steven Johnson.

"On August 28, 1854, working-class Londoner Sarah Lewis tossed a bucket of soiled water into the cesspool of her squalid apartment building and triggered the deadliest outbreak of cholera in the city's history….Johnson builds the story around physician John Snow, (pioneering developer of surgical anesthesia) who posited the then radical theory that cholera was spread through contaminated water rather than through miasma, or smells in the air. Against considerable resistance from the medical and bureaucratic establishment, Snow persisted and, with hard work and groundbreaking research, helped to bring about a fundamental change in our understanding of disease and its spread.”

Max bought me this for my birthday and it’s great. Yes, I'm the kind of girl who gets excited about the history of cholera. Kinky, I know.

Sex with the Queen: 900 Years of Vile Kings, Virile Lovers, and Passionate Politics,
by Eleanor Herman.

“In this follow-up to her bestselling Sex with Kings, Eleanor Herman reveals the truth about what goes on behind the closed door of a queen's boudoir. Impeccably researched, filled with page-turning romance, passion, and scandal, Sex with the Queen explores the scintillating sexual lives of some of our most beloved and infamous female rulers."

The history of royal sex lives sounds juicier to you? It is. And now I know that Catherine The Great did not die while having sex with a horse. (She was apparently on the toilet, which you may or may not think is more dignified.) Anyway, it's fun to read.

Blowing My Cover: My Life as a CIA Spy, by Lindsay Moran.

"When Harvard grad Moran entered CIA training in her late 20s, her expectations had more to do with Harriet the Spy and James Bond than with drudge work or service; the reality, as she represents it in this memoir of her training and case work, was a sexist environment filled with career-oriented, shallow people….Though Moran is a likable spy, the wait for significant insights or breakthroughs goes mostly unrewarded for writer and reader alike.”

I don't recommend this - I was rather underwhelmed. The beginning is sort of interesting, as she describes the training, but it loses juice quickly and just sort trails off.


Books I want but haven't got yet...

The Family That Couldn't Sleep: A Medical Mystery, by D.T. Max
Being a chronic insomniac myself (Thank god for Ambien) I’m quite interested to read this. (Although no, I don't think I have prion disease.)

“In 1765, Venetian doctors were stumped by the death of a man who had suffered from insomnia for more than a year and spent his final months paralyzed by exhaustion. Over the next two centuries, many of his descendants would develop similarly fatal symptoms. Finally, in the early 1990s, their disease was recognized as a rare genetic form of prion disease... Looking at prion disease in general, Max doubles back to the English mad-cow epidemic of the 1990s, retracing established backstories among New Guinea aboriginals and European sheep herds. There's enough fascinating material—in particular, a theory suggesting that early humans were nearly wiped out by a plague spread by cannibalism—to keep readers engaged, but they're likely to want still more about the genuinely captivating family drama.”

The Secret Life of Houdini: The Making of America's First Superhero, by William Kalush, Larry Sloman.

“Kalush and Sloman appear to have raked through every known Houdini archive to produce the most comprehensive and controversial biography ever written about the man, with its contention that he was a spy who may have been murdered by a cult."

I can’t wait to get this one! Houdini was such a fascinating person, and I'm very interested in stuff about 18th and 19th century spiritualism.

The new column and calendar...

My eBay auctions continue, but now you can actually bid on time with me in person, in The Strangercrombie Gift Auction. It's for charity, baby, so buy me!

Bye!

A few thoughts from the weekend…

I went to see “Casino Royale”. My response: “What, James Bond thinks that is torture? The guy’s just barely tapping his balls with that piece of rope. They aren’t even tied up, there’s no weights on them, nothing. Man, 007 is a candy-ass compared to a lot of my guys, they’d just laugh if I did that to them.”

Monk: “Well, he actually did start laughing, but to me it looked like he was getting a little endorphin buzz.” Pause. “I liked the shot of the girl all tied up on the road. They should have showed more of that.”

But, other than that, it was a good Bond movie. Everyone pooh-poohed Daniel Craig when he got tapped for the role, but I thought he had a charmingly brutal energy that’s more reminiscent of Sean Connery than anyone else who’s had the job since. You can actually see him being a guy who kills people for a living.

I myself think I should get a job as sexy-torture consultant for movies. Or maybe I should work for the government training government agents to resist interrogation and CBT through a careful hardening process. Whoops, did I say hardening?

The Partial Suspension class yesterday rocked, thanks to all of you who attended that. And speaking of cocks in bondage, next month Max is doing a class that covers bondage for the head and hair, and also bondage for the genitals. Guess who's helping teach the genitals part? That would ME. Guess who's going to be graciously providing me with a stunt cock to demo said genital bondage on? I'll give you a hint: it ain't Max.

There will be female genital bondage demos also, and while I haven't actually asked her yet, I'm going to take a chance and say that I have a stunt model for that part too. She's never let me down so far...

In other news: Monk comes home from DC today, and I will be very happy to see him. My eBay auctions continue - I added some new items. And I’m writing up a weird phone call for the column next week. That’s the shape of my world today…

Hey, bargain-minded ladies! I’ve gotten a lot of new clothes lately – and that means I have to get rid of some older stuff. So, eBay, here it comes, and yes, I'm going to use my blogger fame to sell this stuff.

I’ve got about thirty items altogether, but I’m going to stagger the listings so I don’t wind up trying to box and ship all that stuff out at once. First round: coats and jackets. In a few days, I’ll list the pants, and after that, the dresses and tops.

So eBay is fine, but I wish I had a close girlfriend who was my size so could swap clothes. Miss K is six feet tall and the complete opposite of me in body-shape: very hour-glassy, with big boobs, this little tiny waist, and full feminine hips. She looks like she’s wearing a corset even when she’s not. (Bitch.) She has this long, thick, black, naturally curly hair, too. I often kid her that if we told a random person that one of us was a dominatrix, guess which one, they’d point to her every single time. She so looks the part.

Jae is shorter and slightly curvier than me, has totally different coloring, and a somewhat different fashion esthetic overall. We like the same kinds of boots - but she wears a size three. So that’s not much good.

I’ve given some stuff to Puck, but she’s taller than me, with a longer torso, and so a lot of it won’t fit her, either. What is a girl to do?

So, if you’re in a shopping mood, go check it out.

It better not snow today. Not very much, anyway. Or at least not where I am. I have been very patient about this weather for the last three days, but I have things to do and people to spank today!

While I watch the sky, read the new column...

Letters from readers…

Hi...I was wondering if you have any ideas or know of any websites on how role playing of this nature can be adapted to character playing in MMORPG games? I ask cause I play World of Warcraft and me and another person I play with have started a background game of sorts, she plays the dominant personality that demands to be respected and addressed as Mistress and I play the submissive role; But my limited experience in this makes it get repetitive way too quickly because I simply don’t know the types of things to say to advance it beyond basic stuff like "Yes, Mistress, as you command Mistress" & "How may I please you Mistress". I don’t know how familiar you are with MMO's if at all, but the basic thing we are looking for is mostly to adapt our regular communications needed to complete game objectives to this style of role playing and occasionally just do some text chat role playing of this nature. Also, not sure if it would make a difference but She is in real life female and I am male but in the game both our characters are female (I know, typical guy makes a female toon...what can I say, it's fun and unlike many guys I actually get into the roleplaying part and play as if I were female to the best of my ability) Any ideas you can share or websites you can point me too would be much appreciated.

Okay, I just ran out of geek credibility, because I actually do not play these games, and I have only a very vague idea of what this reader is even talking about. Anyone want to offer this guy suggestions? Because I got nothing.

***

I am 19 yr old girl looking to get into BDSM, I want to be a sub. I was wondering if you could either direct me to a website or had any advice about staying safe? I have concerns about (unasked for) violence or other problems.

I have read your blog a few times, and I love it and the Stranger.

Thanks for your time

Young lady, I’d like to help you, but I’m afraid this letter falls into the “intellectual laziness” category. Sure, I have advice for you about staying safe: don’t play with strangers. But I bet you could have figured that out for yourself. If you want more specific information, tell me what you’ve already done to educate yourself. Have you Googled “BDSM safety”? I bet not.

If you want more information from me, work harder at framing a specific question that’s easy for me to answer in three minutes or less, because that’s about all the time I can devote to each of the many individuals who want me to be their pro bono kink advisor.

***

My name is *** and I enjoy your column very much. Have only been reading for the last year, but I've gained a lot of insight, so thank you. :) Though I've no interest in the lifestyle, I do have a heavy interest in bondage and links for Japanese bondage have helped me immensely so thank you.

On the topic of BDSM, I'm trying to understand the lifestyle and the people who choose it without judgment or preconceived bullshit ideas. I think I've grasped the fundamentals, I hope, but I do have a serious problem with Doms who call their Submissives degrading names, such as, "Look at me when I'm talking to you, you stupid bitch!" or assaulting their Sub, i.e., punching/slapping the face, body.

I have not seen this in action, I've only "heard" about it and of course, seen the requisite silly examples from TV and film. The questions I have are these: Is this a condoned behavior from the Dom? If so, is this a behavior the Dom has either picked up or been told by the Submissive that it's what they want to hear/receive? And why would a Submissive tolerate this sort of abuse? Am I not nearly so enlightened as I think I am? ::cringes:: If this name-calling/hitting behavior isn't condoned, or something the Sub wants, could it be something only a wannabe or control freak thinks they should say?

First, a style note - it's not really customary to capitalize the word "submissive". It's not strictly necessary to capitalize the word dom, domme, or dominant, either, although some people do. (Also, the word "sub" is, in my opinion, a blot upon the face of the kink world, unless one is referring to an underwater boat or a sandwich. But I acknowledge that I'm in the minority here.)

Now, to the meat of your letter. There’s a saying in BDSM: Your Kink Is Okay, My Kink Is Okay. What I’m hearing is that you don’t want to get slapped, punched or verbally humiliated at this time. (Please refer to item number 11 here to learn why you shouldn’t say you never ever would, though.) But many other people actually like those things. Porn and popular media are the worst possible way to learn about what real BDSM looks like, so you shouldn't take them at face value. But as a player, I can tell you, yeah, I’ve slapped people’s faces, I’ve punched people’s bodies, I’ve said and done extremely mean and humiliating things to people. It was negotiated and consented to, and we both got off on it. That's why we did it.

So, no, you're not quite as enlightened as you think you are. But to give you credit: I think you’ve let go of judgment about the activities you like in BDSM. That’s a legitimate thing - lots of people never stop hating themselves for their desires.

Now, the next step is to let go of judgments about stuff that doesn’t turn you on. And you've definitely got some judgement going on, with words like "assault" and "abuse". It is harder to unlearn judgemental attitudes when there's no compelling reason to do so, like getting off. I’m not going to lie and say I myself have never turned up my nose at a scene that I wouldn't choose to participate in. But part of being a compassionate and mature member of the community is learning some acceptance of others. I don't like oysters, so I don't eat them. But it's fine that other people enjoy them. Right now, somewhere, someone is saying, “Ew, that Japanese bondage stuff is icky, why would anyone want to do that?” But you know that regardless of what it looks like to them, to you, it's a good thing. Try to remember that when you see someone doing a scene that wouldn’t trip your trigger.

Weekend Activities

I should really be writing a column. But here are some highlights from my weekend.

Friday night I had pizza at Bill’s Off Broadway with Roman, and we discussed the odd coincidence that two of our three favorite pizza places (Stellars, Bill's and Madam K's) are staffed entirely by heavily tattooed young punks, with safety-pinned clothes and hair that's either flat black or primary colors, and who, as a condition of their hiring, seem required to be disaffected and somewhat surly. (Although in a general rather than an I-hate-you-in-particular kind of way.) I myself am always struck by the fact that punk fashion has remained so remarkably unchanged since I moved to Seattle in 1992. I mean, young punks now dress, do their hair, and in general look exactly like young punks did then. It’s almost spooky, like a wrinkle in time or something. Or maybe they're vampires. (Wouldn't that piss off the goths, to find out it's really the punks who are the undead.)

Saturday Max took me shopping for a birthday gift. We went and looked at red leather jackets, but none of them were quite perfect. So he bought me a new black leather jacket, which I needed, and a short, racer-style white leather jacket, which I definitely did not need, but we both thought I looked awfully cute in it, so he got it for me. Yay Max.

I also bought these shoes, which are completely ridiculous and not at all like me. I don’t like frouffy, busy stuff. I like clean, minimalist lines and styles. But…But…They were just so cute, I couldn’t help myself.

Then we went to a party at a pal’s house, where we chatted and hung out with friends, and Max did very mean things with a single-tail to a very cute girl. I didn’t do a scene exactly, but Jae was there and she goaded me a bit, so I had to pin her down on the kitchen floor and smack her around for a little while – much to the amusement of the people standing around us.

Sunday we spent quietly at home, although Max had kindly allowed a certain young lady to borrow our dungeon for the afternoon, as she had a scene planned with a curious-about-bottoming female friend. So occasionally a muffled yelp would float up the stairs to our ears. Charming.

Client update: Looking at my calendar, I’ve still got some time available this week…but that probably won’t last long, so carpe diem. Guys I’ve met before can email me for an appointment, new people must call me on the phone…

General information: if it snows, and it accumulates at all, and you have an appointment with me that day, you should check in with me a couple of hours before your appointment time. This southern girl does not drive in snow, so if it’s bad, we’ll have to reschedule.

I'm thinking I'm going to get some blowback on this one: the new column.

Call I got yesterday…

Ring Ring!

Me: Hello?

Caller: Yes, hello, I want to see you today.

This caller has a very strong foreign accent, and since he hasn’t identified himself as someone I know, I’m going to assume he’s a stranger to me, and quite possibly to this country.

Me: No, I’m all booked today, sorry. You usually have to call me at least three days in advance to get time with me.

Caller: Not today? You have no time today?

Me: No, sorry.

Caller: How about tomorrow?

Me: No, I’m not seeing anyone tomorrow.

Caller: You have no time tomorrow either?

He’s speaking in this totally dumbfounded voice, like he just can’t believe I’m for real.

Me: No, I’m not seeing anyone tomorrow. Perhaps you’ve heard that tomorrow’s a major holiday here in America?

Caller: Even for you?

I roll my eyes. Yes, rude boy, even the likes of me observes the major holidays. I’m sure you’d like me to spend my Thanksgiving stuffing you like a turkey and whipping you like cream, but I have other plans.

And I am accordingly grateful to be spending the day with friends and loved ones. I hope you are too. Happy Thanksgiving.

Good lord, I’m busy - there is truly no rest for the wicked this week. Especially when Max and I are having eighteen people over for dinner tomorrow. Max is the cook in the family, in case you were wondering. I just set the table, chop things up, and stir the gravy. But I’m looking forward to seeing some of my friends, and eating (a lot of) Tambo’s yummy homemade bread.

Meanwhile, I have seventeen million things to do to prepare for that. So perhaps you can amuse yourself with this little NWS video clip, which uses a naked, wet model in rope bondage to sell… something. I’m not sure what. Clothes, perhaps? Hard to say. But maybe if we all watch it very closely, several times, we’ll be able to figure it out. Tough work, I know...

Thank you to everyone who expressed sweet birthday wishes to me. I’ll be posting some more detailed thank-you notes later this week, but for now, I’m off into my natal day…

I’m writing this Sunday night, while I’m rather pleasantly worn out from spending a really lovely weekend with Roman.

My actual birthday is tomorrow, but this was our observation of my birthday, and Roman informed me he was going to spoil me rotten all weekend long.

And thus he proceeded to do just that. Friday night, he took me to one of my favorite restaurants: The Frontier Room. Because you can take the girl out of Georgia, but…she’s still going to love barbeque. And for Yankee barbeque, The Frontier Room is pretty damn good. Plus, the bacon-wrapped-shrimp appetizer is pure sin on a skewer.

Then he took me to see “Stranger Than Fiction”, which was, without a doubt, one of the most subtly brilliant movies I’ve seen in a while. The writing is great, the camerawork is great, the use of visual imagery is perfect, and the performances are stellar. I mean, sure, you can always count on Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson to turn in good work, but I think Will Farrell should get an Oscar nomination for his performance in this film. I had no idea he could do anything other than broad comedy - but he can, and well. I think I particularly enjoyed STF since I myself am a writer and I come from a family thickly populated with writers, but it’s just an excellent movie overall.

Saturday we stayed in bed until, oh, about 1pm. Then we went downtown, had a little early dinner, window-shopped a bit, and then came home to prepare to go out clubbing. Roman had actually never been out dancing at a gay bar until I took him earlier this year, and we had great fun, so off we went to do it again. It was a blast, we danced our little butts off, and Roman was so my big gay boyfriend. A very nice man who works out at my gym was also there, and he told me several times how fabulous I was. I’m unclear if he was telling me that because he recognized me as Mistress Matisse, or if he recognized me me from the gym. (Although when I’m at the gym, what I mainly am is just sweaty.) Or maybe he didn’t recognize me at all, but was just spontaneously acknowledging my intrinsic fabulousness? Hard to say. But whatever it was, it was sweet and I felt very complimented.

And then we stayed in bed again very late Sunday. Mmmmnnn…

The Roman-spoiling-Matisse weekend also included: foot massages, gummi bears, opening cars doors for me, face massages, chocolate doughnuts, and a lot of really amazing conversation about life, love, being outlaws, ambitions, and our relationship.

Of course, he isn't even giving me my actual official birthday present until Tuesday. At least, that’s what he thinks. Me, I think I got the gift this weekend.

Shopping for kinky holiday gifts by local businesses? I gotcha covered in this week's column. Also in The Stranger, an interesting piece by a swinger. Wonder if it's anyone I know?

One more thing: according to blogger Joe. My. God., Mike Jones, the male escort who outed Reverend Ted Haggard, is catching some heat about that. I think that's a shame. Now, don't get me wrong - I think a client's privacy is a extremely important thing, and I would never, ever violate that.

Unless.

Unless you're the politically active fundamentalist minster of a large church with the stated goal of repressing my sexuality and driving me back in the closet and just generally messing with my life. That's the one exception to the "my lips are sealed" rule. Do not stand in a pulpit on Sunday preaching against me and then show up in my dungeon on Monday and expect me to protect you while you attack me.

So if you're the kinky counterpart to the (former) Reverend Ted Haggard, you best not come see me. Everyone else, your secrets are quite safe. And I'm going to go give Mike Jones some money, because I agree that the Haggard scandal played a part in the Blue Wave on Nov 7th.

I'm in the mood to rant.

So there was a whole thread about strippers and the Seattle 4-foot law over on The Stranger Slog earlier this week. Actually it began over on Seattlest, bounced over a blog called “I Blame The Patriarchy”, (I’m not linking to that one, click through The Slog if you want to read it) and then wound up on The Slog.

You can go read all the various opinions if you want to, but I can sum up a big chunk of it for you right here: Strippers – and sex workers in general – are helpless victims who need to be saved from themselves, because they are too damaged by society to make the right choices. Sex work is, forever and always, a form of socially-tolerated rape and no woman really consents to doing it, she just thinks she does. Or she’s lying. Because all clients treat sex workers like shit and they really just want to degrade and humiliate them, since that’s just how men are.

You can just imagine what I think about this kind of attitude. I mean, hey, I didn’t much like being a stripper here in Seattle, either. So I quit. That's how that works, in my mind. But some of those people have got a major victim-glorification thing going on. Sex workers apparently bear no personal responsibility for what we do, we’re just slaves, and men are filthy ravenous beasts who assault us.

What a flock of crap. But okay, fine - let’s put aside my very lengthy sex work experience and the experience of lots of other women I have known personally that says the direct opposite of all that, because while I like my job and have fabulous clients, I have indeed known women who disliked being sex workers. Most women, in fact, are not cut out for it, and they should not be doing it. I have a lot of sympathy for sex workers who decided, say, four months ago, that they hated the job. I’d like to help women like that quit and get other jobs.

But if you decided, like, five years ago that you hated the sex industry, and that it was fucking with your head, and ruining your relationships, and making you frigid, and just generally chewing your soul into tiny little pieces on a nightly basis, and you’re still here, then my sympathy for you is pretty limited.

Let’s get real: the sex industry is not going to change. It is what it is, and you can moan and bitch about how the world should be, and you can get all Marxist and talk about the oppression of the working class, and yeah, that’s terribly high-minded, but it doesn’t pay your rent, okay? So the day you decide that you hate the sex industry, that's the day you need to start making a plan to get out.

I hear that you can’t quit today because of your financial obligations. Golden handcuffs are a thing, it’s true. But a vast number of women in the world seem to be making a living without working in the sex industry, so we know this is do-able. It’s probably going to take a little time, but you have the luxury of keeping your highly-paid, flexible-hours job while you ramp up to whatever is next. Most people don’t get that. And I find that tough situations often get more tolerable if you’re actually taking steps to remedy the problem.

If you have a degree and a career in mind, then okay, what the hell are you waiting for? You have no college degree, you say you’re not qualified for anything that pays a living wage? That’s not uncommon. Get your ass over to the community college and get registered for a two-year technical degree in something. Oh, you don’t want to be a dental hygienist? Well, you don’t want to be a sex worker, either, and dental hygienists keep their clothes on and get healthcare benefits. You don’t have to stay in this career for the rest of your life, you’re just picking a job that you’ll like better than the one you’ve got now. Or save up and buy a carpet-cleaning franchise, or study to become a real estate broker, or whatever. But pick something and move towards it.

(There’s a gray area here, and that is women who are artists/musicians/actresses/writers. Sex work can be a great way to support a low-paying but highly fulfilling career in the arts. But at a certain point, one has to be brutally honest with oneself and decide, “What evidence do I have that I will ever be able to totally support myself doing this?” And “Well, other people do!” is not evidence. Look at it this way: you need your soul to be an artist of any kind. If sex work destroys your soul, then your art will suck ass. You may have to back-burner the muse until you get a day job you can live with.)

Next, start downsizing. Whatever you’re spending your money on – big apartment, fancy car, designer clothes, whatever – stop that. Move to a smaller apartment, get a roommate, live with your family, move further out from the city, whatever you have to do. Get a cheaper car. Stick your credit cards in the freezer. Start living like you make much less money than you do and save as much as you can.

None of this is rocket science, but oddly, most of the women I have known who said they hated the sex industry weren’t doing these things. But just hanging around in the dressing room, smoking and endlessly whining about much you hate this job, is stupid. It’s like standing on the deck of the sinking Titantic, talking about how much you hate the ocean. The water is only going to get higher, baby, so get into a lifeboat already! Yeah, it might be a rough ride for a while, but a careful examination of the alternative should indicate that it’s the best option.

I have lately had the pleasure of seeing a good exit plan put into action. My dear friend Miss K, after eight years as an escort, decided she was done with it. Like the smart girl that she is, she’d cleared all her student loans and credit card debt and had saved up a large sum of money in that eight years. Now she’s going to graduate school and living, quite frugally, on her savings and some money she inherited from a relative. She plans on getting a part-time job in her field of interest while she's in school. She wishes her old clients well, but it was time for her to go do something else.

So go is the operative word here. Hate the job? Go. Go towards something that makes you happier. I’ll give you a boost, if I can. I’ll at least cheer for you. You will not change the nature of the sex industry. But you can change whether you’re in it or not.

Roman has a "stupid phone call" of his own today. Unbelievable.

Pop Culture

What have I been taking in lately? Well, Roman and I went to see “The Prestige” last week. (My choice. Anything with gaslights and British accents is a yes! my movie-going book) And we also watched “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” on DVD the other night.

“The Prestige” was interesting, although I think it helped a lot that I’d read the book. Not that I was really wowed by the book, you understand. I did finish it, which is saying something, because it’s thick enough to club seals with. But I thought it was way too long – a properly ruthless editor could have improved it a lot. I found it rather self-consciously literary, too.

Still, having read it meant that I could follow the movie pretty well. Poor Roman is a total film geek and even so, he was still a little cross-eyed trying to keep up with three different timelines, all of them fraught with not-well-explained plot complications.

But I’m interested in anything that has to do with the history of stage magic, and David Bowie was good, and Micheal Caine was good, and Scarlett Johanson’s breasts were very nice. So, overall, worth seeing.

“Mr. and Mrs. Smith"... Well, in the scene where Brad and Angelina transition from trying to kill each other to fucking, Roman and I looked at each other and said “That looks just like us having sex.” (Without the guns, though.) It was mildly amusing, and yes, Ms Jolie is a babe. But it seems like the essential message of the movie would be that even vanilla people should have violent sex because, hey, it’ll save their marriage. And I’m okay with that - I just wonder if that’s really what the filmmakers meant to say.

Books… I need some new books. Here’s what I’m browsing…

Thunderstruck by Erik Larson. I liked The Devil In White City, and this looks great to me, in spite of mixed reviews. I’ve read a bit about the race to perfect the telegraph, and historical crime stuff is always cool, so this sounds fascinating. I’ll be ordering it soon.

The Female Thing: Dirt, Sex, Envy, Vulnerability by Laura Kipnis. Ms Kipnis has a delightfully vicious wit, and I’ve enjoyed her writing in the past.

The Orientalist: Solving the Mystery of a Strange and Dangerous Life by Tom Reiss. From the publisher: “Part history, part cultural biography, and part literary mystery, The Orientalist traces the life of Lev Nussimbaum, a Jew who transformed himself into a Muslim prince and became a best-selling author in Nazi Germany.”

Case Histories by Kate Atkinson. I just stumbled across this book, and I don’t know anything about it other than what this page says. But something about it looks promising.

The Mad Cook of Pymatuning: A Novel by Christopher Lehmann-Haupt. I don't usually read horror novels, but this looks much more layered and complex than the usual blood-and-guts fare. I'm intrigued.

Random Sunday Post

No kink, just fashion, just because I’m wasting time window-shopping online instead of working on a column…

On eBay: pretty silver bracelet… This one's nice too.
And while I’ve never been a big one for designer bags, I’m kinda digging this Prada briefcase. I hear all the Prada bags on eBay are fake, though.

I’ve been looking for a new black leather coat – a hip-length one – because the one I have is beat. But this red jacket is awfully cute.

The week or so around Thanksgiving is traditionally a slow time of year in my business – people are traveling, busy with family. And December is kinda up and down, too. (Although the single, married-to-their-job guys do often come calling around holidays. It's their gift to themselves.) But we’ll see how I do in the next few weeks, maybe I can indulge myself in some pretty things.

(Okay, Matisse, stop procrastinating and go write.)

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.)