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Thinking about orgies
January 30, 2005
After my last posts (part 1, part 2) about Jefferson’s biweekly bisexual orgy, one of my readers asked if I’d write a little somethin’ somethin’ about how I think about orgies, what makes them awesome for me (other than the giving and getting of orgasms), et cetera.
I know this sounds ridiculous to people whose lives are very different than mine, but these biweekly orgies are part of a kind of settling down process for me. I know that my idea of settling down is very different than other people’s, as it involves a boyfriend, a girlfriend, plans against cohabitation with either, and biweekly orgies, but that’s what seems to be working for me, so.
Over the past two years, I’ve had consistent urges for sex with new people, which means that I’m almost always on the prowl, looking for my next victim. It’s not so much a matter of notches in my bed post - its been a few years since I knew the exact number of people I’ve fucked. Rather, it’s the sense of discovery I love – I love finding out how people’s bodies work, how they contort when they come and what they can do to me.
In some ways, doing sex work satisfies this curiosity and considerably diminishes the desire for new (unpaid) adventures. But of course I still get the itch to explore. The sex parties have become a really great outlet for this, plus they appeal to my desire to have my life be well-scheduled. Every two weeks, I know that I will get my fix: I will fuck strangers and watch strangers fuck.
Of course the thing is, it’s not a new batch of complete strangers every time, and there are people I’ve had sex with more than once, so there is a familiarity mixed into the strangeness of it all. After fucking one of Jefferson’s friends, Todd, a few times I actually had the opportunity to sit and talk with him and I realized that he was pretty fun to talk to. Later Jefferson asked if I’d be interested in going on a date with Todd outside of the sex party – and I realized that it just wouldn’t work. When would I schedule Todd into my life? And more than that, what happens when he becomes my ex? I already deal with the presence of one ex at Jefferson’s parties, and I really don’t need another, thanks. My relationship with Todd is just fine as it is.
So sex parties are appealing to me because they create a controlled setting for fucking strangers, where I basically have to show up, be hot, chat and fuck. Much less work than prowling around online or in bars, because Jefferson has already done the prowling. But I don’t just go to sex parties because of the convenience of the shopping experience – I go because group sex is majorly a part of my sexuality. Group sex is not just something I had on a list of “things to try before I die” – it’s actually something that I want as a regular part of my sexual diet.
Posted by Dacia at 02:47 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A very happy un-birthday!
January 28, 2005
Today I’m celebrating my six month blogoversary. I just want to take a minute to says thanks to my readers, old and new - you consistently bring amusement and insight into my life.
Also, I wanted to put this out there: Gracie and I have been asked to be part of a roundtable conversation/interview about sex work that will be published in the May edition of Brooklyn’s Stay Free Magazine. If you’re a sex worker in New York (esp Brooklyn) and would be interested in parcipating, email me for more information.
Posted by Dacia at 01:55 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The asses have it
January 27, 2005
I felt slightly ashamed that the ass pic was out of focus, but my ass is big enough to focus on. Have you ever tried to take a sexy pic of your ass while being too lazy to use a tripod? It’s difficult.
Yesterday’s poll was inspired by an ongoing conversation I have with Dirck and Seth - like the majority of you, they prefer a nice ass to nice tits. The big reason they give is that you can fake tits with a good bra, but an ass has to stand on its own.
Both have sung the praises of my ass on numerous occasions, but the best recent occurence of this was an 8:30 a.m. drunk dial/booty call from Seth that I got last week. Yes, it seems he went on an all night bender and then decided to call me and tell me how much he likes my ass.
ringringringring
Me: Hello? He: I just had to call you to tell you how sexy you are. Where are you? Me: I’m in bed, like I usually am at 8:30 in the morning. He: I wish I was in bed with you, squeezing your ass. I’d really like to live in your ass. Me: Like a pinworm?
Posted by Dacia at 02:19 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Further intellectual debate
January 26, 2005
I know we’ve been going over a lot of very important issues lately, but it’s time to push those aside and consider one very major issue: if you had to choose between a great set of bazooms and a nice round ass, which would you pick? Please note that this is an either/or situation. The answer cannot be: I’ll have Dacia’s tits with a side of ass.
Posted by Dacia at 11:57 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
One more time, with feeling
January 25, 2005
I am making this (I think) my last post on Rachel’s article and resulting conversations over at feministing.com. It may jump around a bit, but these are some of my leftover thoughts and scattered ideas.
I consider myself someone who is able to see the greater issues of things and is not the overly sensitive type who thinks that disagreement means that people hate me (or I just let it roll off of me). But watching and participating in conversations over at Feministing has given me this interesting perspective on such conversations. Although of course I’m used to laying my stuff (naked bits, wordy opinions) out there for people to examine, this feels a bit different. When I apply theories about class, feminism, etc to my own life, it feels very different than when other people do that without asking me about my reaction. It’s weird to have commenters wonder publicly about things that they could easily ask me about directly. At times over the last few days I’ve felt like I’m eavesdropping on my own conversation.
One of the complaints that has been made consistently over on Feministing is that Rachel’s article didn’t show the Other Side of Sex Work, the downtrodden working class sex workers who have no other options. While this is true, her article does not attempt to give a comprehensive view of sex work; she highlights a few people who she finds interesting and relates this to her own experience. Her column is primarily about exploring different aspects of sexuality and dating – and she unashamedly does this through the lens of her own experience. Of course, everyone does this, as it’s impossible to speak without the framework of where you’re coming from, but Rachel makes no pretenses at doing otherwise.
There is a tendency for people to want to generalize the experience of one person to stand for the experiences of many. I think that we should be careful not to make a leap from an article about individual experiences to assumptions about Sex Work As A Profession.
There have been a lot of comments made about the fact that Rachel describes Jane and me as middle class, white, educated and privileged. This is put forth in the article in a very uncritical way, which is partly what has incensed so much debate. In the debate, there seems to be this current of “why would you choose sex work if you could do something else?” and “privileged women choosing sex work makes a mockery out of all the poor women who have to do it.”
The first question devalues sex work as a choice for any woman, and views it as an absolute last resort, which it may be for some, but not for others. Both statements make a kind of hierarchy of experience – because I can choose to not do sex work, the sex work I do is somehow less valid and less real than women who have no other options. I am very aware of the privileged place I say this from, and I don’t think people should have to do work they dislike (sex or otherwise) but the fact remains that I, like many other sex workers (and unlike yet others), touch strange men’s penises for money.
I think that, no matter what non-sex work wages look like, service providers will always exist at many different income levels and will offer many different services because there will continue to be a demand. The root of this issue, the thing that gets everyone’s knickers twisted, is an economic one. There are many ways in which it can be argued – and is useful to argue - that sex work is work like other forms of work. Not just because some sex work is illegal or at the fringes of society, sex work is notoriously more lucrative than many other kinds of work, which sets it apart and makes it more appealing than many other forms of work – and this appeal seems to often override the risk. I’m going to quote myself from an email I sent to a reader I’ve been corresponding with in reference to the problem of very visible prostitution in the neighborhood he lives in, and his urge to help the streetwalkers:
Help them quit for what? is the big question. Yes, $5 for a blow job is a horrifyingly little amount of money, however – this woman’s other option is probably a minimum wage job, making per hour what she can make in about 10 minutes as a prostitute.
The women in your neighborhood can hook for a few hours, and go home to their children with cash to feed them. What jobs can you offer them that promise the same things? Sure, you can prattle on about work ethics, honest living, the satisfaction of a job well done, but in cold reality how can a job where you have to punch the clock compete with sex work?
This is a frustration that faces sex workers of all kinds and of all classes. If you want to be there, great, keep on at it. But if you don’t want to be there, even if you have skills in other areas your earning power is probably depressing. I’m personally overeducated by hot shit East Coast universities and I choose sex work because it gives me day-to-day freedom, time to myself, and many times over the hourly pay I’d receive in the field I’m schooled in. Is this sad for me or sad for society? Can I claim empowerment by taking advantage of the system and working within the patriarchy to finance my various subversive ventures? Big questions that don’t necessarily have answers, but they’re important to ask.
Posted by Dacia at 02:23 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Assumed meanings
January 24, 2005
I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to keep caught up with the flurry of comments around Rachel’s article, privilege, sex work, all that jazz. I like nuances (ok, Ms Understatement), which of course means I can talk about this stuff til I’m blue in the face. And then keep talking.
In pretty much all of the comments I’ve read about Rachel’s article and related tangents, sex work has been parsed down to and equated with prostitution, with no room to wiggle. I think it’s important to cast a wider net as to what sex work is and what sex workers do. Of course the most popular form of sex work in the cultural imagination is the prostitute/escort, but there are many other kinds of sex workers: phone sex workers, dommes, sensual masseurs, erotic hypnotists, peep show performers, strippers, porn actors, and people who do solo cam shows to name but a few.
In Rachel’s Voice article she states early on that Jane “does not actually have intercourse with [her clients].” I’m quoted talking about helping men to explore their prostate – but embedded in everything people say about us is the assumption that we have intercourse (“sex”) with our clients. I’ve gotten emails and instant messages from people about the article, and they assume I do the intercourse for the money. When I explain what I actually do (sensual massage, foot fetish sessions), the reaction is usually, “so you don’t have sex.”
People are assuming that sex worker = full service prostitute, which may be in part because we used the word whore (maybe too flippantly?). However, I think the real cause for this leap is because in many people’s minds sex = intercourse. That’s a pretty heteronormative way to perceive sex, and one that prioritizes and codifies the experiences of full service providers over that of a massage parlor worker or any number of other sex workers.
In a comment on my post yesterday, JR Slim said: I think that you have to acknowledge the considerable heterogeneity in both johns and whores before making any general statements. sex work is (..and i’m sure you would agree to this) so many different things.
Sex work is so many different things because of differences in desires, limits and talents. I could cut the word “work” out of that last sentence and JR’s second sentence, and we’d be left with an equally true statement. However - other than saying that there are different ways to do sex, I’m not going to attempt to define sex here. I’m just going to leave it out there: you’ve got to do that work yourself.
Posted by Dacia at 02:19 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Boy/girl sex/work
January 23, 2005
First of all, let me just say that I love me some debate. Over at Feministing.com, there is a post that has garnered a lot of discussion about Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Village Voice piece this week. Jane very eloquently responded to some of the comments and about class and privilege, and of course I have my two cents to add. Well, okay, more than two cents – there are so many comments I want to respond to, this will probably stretch out over several posts.
I wrote a little in my previous post about male clients in the sex industry, and I’d like to expand on that a bit here, with particular attention paid to some questions raised by Katha Pollitt in the comments for the post at Feministing.com, with some personal experience thrown in just to complicate things. Pollitt’s comments are italicized below.
…My question though is this: if it’s okay to be a sex worker, is it okay to be a john? How would you feel if your boyfriend purchased sex, even from a squeaky-clean Ph.d?… I think that in some ways, it’s culturally less acceptable to be a john than it is to be a whore. Especially with the work of notable sex workers like Scarlet Harlot, Annie Sprinkle, and Carol Queen a community and support system has begun to be built for sex workers. Shall we sing the song of sexism? Yes. Female sex workers are of course highly stigmatized – but at the same time there is a piece of sexist society that says of course women are whores, women’s worth is embedded in sex (see a bajillion ads that are not for actual sex but for a mind-numbing array of products). Johns, on the other side of the sexist coin, are stigmatized because they are perceived as being less than manly – duped into paying for what should rightfully be theirs for free.
…Let’s say you discovered that — before you, of course— your bf had slept with prostitutes fairly often. Whenever he was between girlfriends, rather than masturbate or spend the evening trying to meet someone in a bar or read a book or take a cold shower, he would dial an escort service and have them send someone over. He got to have an orgasm in the female body orifice of his choice without all the messy emotional stuff like risking rejection, having to gratify a woman sexually, spend nonsexual time with her, know her real name, promise to call her. She got money. Would you really not have a problem with that? Let’s say, to take care of [another commenter’s] point, that he insists he DOES “respect” prostitutes and would not mind if his sister became one. (Because he is your bf he surely knows not to come out with blatantly double-standard remarks).
And here’s where I complicate things with personal experience that I know is by no means representative of real people other than me and my boyfriend. My boyfriend Dirck has used escort services and has visited asian massage parlors on several occasions – his predilection for handjobs is also how I met my present girlfriend (he was her client and thought we should meet). By chosing to utilize the services of sex workers, Dirck has chosen to do sex “without all the messy emotional stuff,” which has been a solid choice for him, because he has several times mistakenly involved himself with girls with whom undesirable emotional attachments developed. I think that it is ok to want sex, the act, without the emotional attachment of a non-sexual relationship – of course people may disagree with me, which is fine because they do not have to engage in these kinds of relationships. There is an oft-repeated saying about hiring whores – you’re not paying them to stay, you’re paying for them to leave. I think it is preferable to have an emotionally detached session with a provider than it is to get involved in a sexual relationship with someone who may want more emotionally than the guy is willing to provide. I also believe that both men and women can desire a whole spectrum of different relationships – purely sexual, sexual friendship, deeply involved sexual and emotional relationships – within the same lifetime, or even within the same moment.
Being a sex worker in a relationship with a boy who purchases the services of other sex workers is an interesting thing – and something which we’ve talked about endlessly. I don’t mind or judge the fact that Dirck has used these services (on several occasions I’ve done the research for him and found him good massage parlors). We’ve compared notes on our experiences pretty intensely, and one thing we always talk about is whether or not the providers he has visited enjoy their jobs. Dirck has less money to spend on service providers than the men who hire me (we joke a lot about how he couldn’t afford me), so we’ve worried that he’ll be enlisting the services of someone who really doesn’t want to be there or (much worse) has been coerced into their job. There’s no perfect answer to this concern, but let’s just say that he has tipped providers and left without carrying out his mission because he sensed that they were utterly miserable.
In conclusion, for male perspectives on being a client, I recommend the blog Viewing the Local Antiquities as well as Marc Perkel’s really terrific site about hiring escorts, from practical and social perspectives.
Posted by Dacia at 03:59 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Seduction narratives and dead whores
January 22, 2005
In my recent post about slut guilt I aimed straight for the fears that people walk around with: in the sex negative, guilt-ridden, judgmental society we live in it is so common for there to be a very short leap in people’s minds from sex to danger. Add commerce to sex and you’ve got a formula for all kinds of fear and ugly havoc.
This is nothing new, to say the least.
The two comments below recently cropped up in response to different posts. I’m not assuming the “anonymous” is the same person in both comments, though there is a common current through both: dead sex workers. AIDS. Murder. I told you so.
My feedback is I hope you get out before you get AIDS like Lara Roxx* and a whole lot of others did. You won’t, of course, but you should, cause it’ll kill you if some dickwad customer doesn’t first.
Let’s hope you don’t get murdered in a porn shoot some unnamed former NY sex work writers nobody wants to talk about anymore. Cuz the scene is, like, so sexy and stuff. Yeah These are attitudes produced by a puritanical society with the mind-set that coloring outside of the lines will kill you, and you will deserve that infamous death. The history of this cultural production takes many forms – one that is on the top of my head right now is the seduction novel, in which an innocent woman is seduced, defamed, abandoned and left to die a wretched death, maybe after becoming a prostitute. Two good examples of these narratives are Susanna Rowson’s Charlotte Temple (1791) and Stephen Crane’s Maggie, Girl of the Streets (1893). The idea that sex workers are doomed is still very much a presence in our cultural attitudes around sex work, as is the idea that all sex workers are tricked into their profession.
There are of course many nuances to this, but it is important to point out that media hype around and coverage about sex workers is sensationalistic 98% of the time. Though we cannot say that contemporary news media creates outright fictional seduction narratives like the above mentioned authors, I do think there is a gap between the lived experience of sex workers (yes, even the downtrodden street walkers) and the stories produced about them in the media. This is not limited to tales of illicit professions; I would venture to say that there is a gap between lived experience and media(ted) productions of all stories.
I’m not going to throw statistics around, because I am inherently suspicious of statistics. I can use them to prove my points, but so can my detractors. I’m not going to get into percentages and cite sociological studies for this reason, plus the reason that sex-related studies are notoriously difficult to do well. In the case of sex work, the errors of sexual-self reporting in addition to the legal and trust issues make it near-impossible to do solid social scientific work. However, what I am doing is a cultural analysis of attitudes about sex, money and danger.
In both of these comments, there is a tone of sexism embedded into the danger: sexism against men and their intentions. Again, I am not trying to make light of the real dangers that are presented to sex workers who work both legally and illegally; there are obviously dangerous men out there who have and sadly will continue to prey on women in general, with sex workers often being in a more vulnerable position. However, many men who are consumers in the sex industry are not scary freakazoids, and are only made to feel they are by media hype.
For instance, here in New York over the past many years various neighborhoods have expressed disdain for their local smut shops, under the notion that those places attract unsavory, morally bankrupt and (by extension) dangerous people. But these are not dangerous people, they are horny people. Jokes about men thinking with their little heads instead of their big heads aside, I would not say that all men are barely contained rapists and murders, as is so often implied.
Perhaps I am a close-reading obsessed fool, but I think it’s important to unpack the meanings embedded in these anonymous comments and to confront what they mean in our society, where they come from, and how they continue to have culturally significant life.
I conclude with this: there are many dangers in the world that threaten men and women, sex worker or not. Ignorance is a danger in that it is catharsis for hate.
*Lara Roxx was one of the performers who contracted HIV from Darren James. Her case got a lot of press because she was the first of his costars to test positive last spring. Mainstream media outlets were hungry for Roxx’s story because she was a newcomer to the industry.
Posted by Dacia at 03:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Figure study in red and black
January 20, 2005
Benny emailed me this picture from our shoot this past weekend, a little cock tease of what’s to come…
Posted by Dacia at 02:20 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The black cloud
January 19, 2005
After Donny’s departure, Jefferson couldn’t help but continue to laugh at me and my curse of never seeing boy-on-boy action up close and personal. He said he’d given up on promising me anything, as it looked like the night would again be filled with many girls and perhaps not enough boys, so my black cloud would continue to linger.
And then, they started to arrive. Raven showed up bearing the gift of rubber stoppers to help keep the bed in place neatly against the wall. We installed them and then leapt on the bed to give it a try – one thrust and the bed was halfway across the room. We collapsed laughing, and then rejoined the group in the living room, declaring that the bed stoppers were no match for us.
When Nate (the kindergarten teacher Nadia mentioned) arrived, we didn’t quite get introduced, but after a few minutes, he turned to me and said, “Dacia, I’ve heard lots about you. I’m excited to finally get to meet you!” My reputation precedes me.
Raven, Nadia, Nate and I all seemed to simultaneously decide that talking without being naked is just stupid, so we marched off to the front bedroom and stripped down.
There was some tangling of the flesh, some groping, and then some coming. Nate turned to me and said, “Shit, you really are as good as they say.” Raven went to work on me with her fingers deep in my pussy, and Nate went to work on Nadia in the same way. When we all stood up after a while to readjust, there were several impressive puddles on Jefferson’s bed.
Nadia and I joked about being in our natural habitat – the first time we met we went sex toy shopping, and the second and third times have been at BDSM and sex parties.
Raven, who knows about my black cloud problem, was looking out for me. If I wasn’t –ahem – otherwise occupied at the moment, she alerted me every time she saw the inklings of boy-on-boy action. Thanks to her, I can say that my eyes are no longer virginal in this respect. I mean, I didn’t get to see any hot ass pounding, but it’s good to have goals in life.
One of Jefferson’s legendary regulars who I hadn’t previously met appeared last night to much fanfare. Of course I had to see what all the hype was about. We kissed on the couch, I sucked his magnificent cock and rubbed it slowly between my tits, until he leaned in close and said, “Want to go to the bedroom?” And did I ever. We squeezed onto the bed with a few other bodies – and. And. Our hump rhythms are different and we seemed to just not fit together. Though we were both able to come (please, I’m a professional) we never quite clicked – instead we smiled shyly at each other and tried our damnedest.
As the night wore on past midnight, I began to feel increasingly tired, and I started to do a Donny and say no to deserving partners, lest I fall asleep on them. The back bedroom wasn’t seeing much action, so I gingerly stepped over the condom wrappers on the floor and made my way to the futon, where I was lulled to sleep by the pounding and moaning in the room next door.
This morning, as Jefferson and I sat eating our bacon, grits, eggs and sipping orange juice, we tallied up our sex partners from the night before. I slowly counted people off on my fingers, and declared “Seven” my take for the night. “That’s it?” he asked, surprise in his voice. We burst into peals of laughter, fully realizing how ridiculous it is to say “that’s it” when someone says she fucked seven people in one night.
Posted by Dacia at 06:14 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Pre-orgy orgy
After my first day of classes, I arrived at Jefferson’s a little early. He’d said that there was a couple coming a bit early, as they couldn’t make the main event and the first time they’d come to the party, they didn’t play, citing social awkwardness and whatnot. I remembered them from the first party I went to, had liked them but had been unable to bridge the gap of awkwardness.
After I’d settled myself onto Jefferson’s couch, we heard a knock. Jefferson scurried to the door and opened it to reveal the boy of the hasty exit, Donny.
With a look of mock surprise, Jefferson exclaimed, “Why, look who just happened to stop by! What a coincidence!”
I was thrilled, and excited at a renewed chance to see Jefferson pound the hell out of the boy and hopeful that I’d get to try a new version of my favorite exercise machine, the cockmaster.
Shortly after Donny showed up our couple arrived. Isaac and Laura are pretty much my kinda people: a little goofy and awkward, bespectacled and horny. In a flurry (Laura had to leave by 7), the five of us headed to the bedroom, where Isaac and Laura got into each other, and I had eyes and mouth only for Donny.
Donny, however, had eyes only for Jefferson’s cock and thoughts only for how it would feel in his ass. I laid Donny out on the bed and began to suck his cock langorously as I worked some fingers into his ass, warming him up and stretching him out for Jefferson. He all but pushed me out of the way, steering his ass towards Jefferson’s cock. As someone who loves anal sex, I can say this – sometimes anal is happening, and sometimes it just isn’t and no amount of lube and energy can make it happen.
It wasn’t happening, which I saw as the perfect opportunity for me, so as I hovered over Donny’s cock, I asked in my best sultry voice, “Can I fuck you?”
He looked down at me, up at Jefferson and said, “No, I’m here only for Jefferson.”
And then, the boy got up, collected his things, and left.
Jefferson laughed, “You have a black cloud over you, you’re never going to get to see boy-on-boy action!”
“Not just that but I didn’t get any Dacia-on-Donny action. He said NO to me, did you hear him?”
“Honey, you’re always supporting people’s right to say no in any situation.”
“Yeah, but not to me! He said no to me!”
I’m a spoiled brat, and a bad sport to boot.
But! Other than me and Jefferson, there were two more naked people in the room! After some more conversation and the discovery that Laura is actually the roommate of a friend of mine (hence this morning’s email), she glanced at the clock and said “Shit, I have to leave in 7 minutes. Oh gracious sex fairy, what can you do in 7 minutes?”
Jefferson and I pounced.
Okay, so we didn’t have her and Isaac out the door in seven minutes, but the sex fairies delivered.
By 7:15, we were ready to order some take out sushi (paid for by my ass, with birthday love) and get ready for the 8 pm orgy.
Posted by Dacia at 04:52 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
LA, SchmLA (part 1)
January 18, 2005
Caution: the following tale contains no sex. If you’re only interested in the fucking, jump right ahead to part 3, I won’t be offended.
When I landed in LA on Saturday afternoon, I was greeted by Dirck’s best friend from high school, who lives in LA with her boyfriend. She and Dirck were each other’s firsts, and they’ve been friends and on-again off-again lovers for years. I met her briefly when she was in New York a year or so ago, but this was the first time I would spend a solid chunk of time with her.
It was awesome – and immediately obvious how she and Dirck have been friends so long, as she is basically a girl version of him. She’s a little awkward, goofy and a whole lot of awesome and hilarious. It took us no time to get into the groove of joking around, being silly, and drinking heavily.
She and her boyfriend took me on a bit of tour around the city, during which we all made snide remarks about people, bad drivers and Hollywood. After a tasty Cajun dinner and a nap for me, we decided to head out to a party (On which she remarked: “We don’t want you to be fooled into thinking we’re social butterflies, usually we sit around and watch movies”) where there were several local metal bands playing.
Yes, it’s true, my first night in LA was spent at a backyard metal show, with the long hair, and the headbanging. Metal isn’t my thing per se, but it’s more my thing than a lot of the other shit LA has to offer.
In the course of the night we talked about the whole East Coast vs. West Coast thing – and I may be a heretic for saying this, but LA brand bullshit and NYC brand bullshit is basically the same bullshit, packaged a little differently. In NYC, a lot of the bullshit surrounds the art and music scenes while in LA it’s all about modeling and movies. It’s the same cup of bullshit though. Both places are full of aliens.
Posted by Dacia at 01:28 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
And finally, the fucking (LA part 3)
Before really getting down to it, we shot a few little preliminary items � one of which was Benny dressing me in my fabulous red dress, red and black garter belt, red and black bra, and red fishnets. Even though they had my measurements before I got there, the snaps on the dress couldn�t quite contain my breasts (no surprise really), and it sculpted itself around my ass in a way that meant there wasn�t to be much bending over. (Benny: �Ok, you�re all dressed, you just have to put your shoes on.� Me: �Uh, I can�t bend over that far.�) Anyway, these issues of fit were no big beef, as I wasn�t planning to be wearing the dress very long.
I hobbled upstairs, ready for my close up. We did a little bit of dialogue (one take per line, and I�m keeping the exact context a secret) and were ready to go. We started the scene off with a bit of a sloppy (condomed!) blowjob, during which I drooled on myself and eradicated my lipstick. When Benny dropped his pants I realized I was about to enjoy my first Prince Alberted cock. Yes it�s true, I myself have a genital piercing, but though I�ve seen and played with them on girls and seen scars left by them on boys, I�ve never gotten to play with one on a boy. Check off that life experience, thanks very much.
We then progressed into good old daty � dining at the Y (cunnilingus) in whore parlance. It may surprise you to know that unlike most women, receiving oral sex is not a favorite activity of mine � it rarely gets me off and often the enthusiastic giver chomps on my pierced hood in a bad way. Benny was able to lick me good and well, and I felt myself coming from a mere tongue on my clit, no fingers in my pussy. This, I thought, will be a good time.
Stoic pro that Benny is, there had been no off camera touchy-feely stuff, so we got acquainted with each other�s bodies as the tape rolled. Though we�d of course gone through the list of don�ts, the dos were a bit of a mystery. Granted, an on camera scene is not by any means the time to try that latest Cosmo sex tip out, because it may go awfully wrong: creating sexual catastrophes on camera is NOT the business we�re in. In a scene, you have to rock a double consciousness of a kind, considering whether or not the meat shot is visible from whatever angle and if your co-star is having a good time.
Well, Benny and I clicked pretty damn well, all things considered, and were definintely on the same wave length as far as rhythm and action go. We worked ourselves into a variety of positions, and he pulled my clothes off as we fucked. We paused now and again to wipe sweat off of ourselves, regroup and rehydrate. During these breaks, I chatted with the cameraman, a mohawked puppeteer, who was surprised that I�d never done a porn film before. We also had a really solid conversation about the politics of which side of the camera you choose to be on, as like me, he has no problem with seeing the action from either side.
Though the breaks were definitely pauses in the action, we were able to pick up where we�d left off pretty damn easily and build to several crescendos through the scene, with general sexual mayhem. When I�ve done non-commercial dirty things on video previously, I�ve always felt myself being very aware of where the camera was sitting, hyperaware of the camera and the process of taping itself, which in many ways inhibited me from fully being there in my skin. This time, all that disappeared, and I felt like I was thoroughly there in my sexual persona, being my own sexual self, which I�m certain will come across onscreen much better than awkward self-awareness.
Let me tell you: fucking under hot lights really takes it out of me. I slept liking a fucking dead person last night. Ample sleep is good, because tomorrow morning bright and early I�m starting my second semester of grad school.
I know I haven�t gone into superb blow-by-blow detail here, but that�s intentional � you�ll just have to wait for the DVD to get all the details! And yes, of course I�ll keep you updated on its release, I promise.
Posted by Dacia at 12:35 AM
Porn evangelists unite (LA part 2)
Warning: still no actual fucking, but good talk about porn, if you’re into that kind of thing. On Sunday morning, I launched into my elaborate – well, for me anyway – task of grooming. Last week I had a few moments wherein I totally panicked and worried that I wasn’t preparing myself for porn very well, wasn’t stepping up my beauty regiment (uh, which consists basically of showering, washing my hair, and brushing my teeth). On several occasions, I went into various beauty shops and looked at the endless rows of ointments and salves. Ultimately, I decided that a) I don’t know jack shit about any of that stuff, b) I don’t want to risk addiction to beauty products that I can’t afford on a regular basis and c) doing new things to my hair or skin the week before a shoot is a terrible idea. So, I rocked the old standbys of a shower and thorough shave.
My friends delivered me to the Pirate Booty house (conveniently located next to a church in case I should change my mind at the last minute and want to absolve my sins ASAP), where I got to met Benny Profane face-to-face for the first time. Benny reminds me of one of my more favorite and zany high school boyfriends (whose main goal in life was to be a nose harp virtuoso), so that on top of the awesome conversations we’ve had made me feel right at home. Benny was accurate in saying that a Pirate Booty set is likely the most relaxed set I’ll ever be on.
This relaxation extended beyond the drinking orange juice and talking shit phase and all the way through the shooting. Pirate Booty makes porn the way I would make porn, which is saying a lot: they shoot fucking, and basically don’t tamper with the action.
I’ve been on my share of porn sets and I know that the majority of porn is shot like lots of movies are shot: there’s a lot of stop and go, and most camera angles get a few takes. Suffice to say – there’s almost nothing organically sexual about the vast majority of porn shoots. This of course shows in the product, just as Benny’s approach is apparent in the product. Maybe its just that he isn’t jaded enough to turn out that dreadful stuff yet, but I’m pretty convinced that he’s going to stick with his porn-making ethic and rock out with it.
As for me - I know that I’ve been very spoiled insofar. I’ve gotten naked and photographed/videoed by a series of people who’ve been nothing but professional, respectful and awesome – and even more than that, on the same wavelength as me. I’ve been able to fall right into a comfortable place with everyone I’ve worked with so far, and I can only hope that I can continue to make that happen. If I can make that go, you can expect a lot more smut from me. But, snob that I am, I won’t get naked on camera for just anyone.
Posted by Dacia at 12:32 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I'm off!
January 15, 2005
And so I’m off, headed to Los Angeles, the land of sunshine and smut. If my pallor and bitchiness don’t give away my East Coast origins, the boob realness will. And just so everyone’s clear:
Armed with this t-shirt (courtesy of Jane), I head west to make it with pirates.
Posted by Dacia at 08:12 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Pre-porn errands
January 14, 2005
I spent a good chunk of my day running around, doing last minute pre-porn errands before I head to Los Angeles tomorrow.
Item 1: AIM test results, faxed and legible. This took some finagling, but there they are, for me to have and hold and prove that I’m clean. I’ve gotten tested for HIV three times in the past year, not because I’ve had any uh-oh moments, but because I’m such a ethical slut that I get tested twice a year as a matter of course (and obviously more with the smut).
Item 2: Waxing. I had some mild panic when I found that the place I’ve been going to get waxed was booked, but with some help from my upstairs neighbor, I found a different place to go. I think I have discovered the secret to waxing success: get waxed where gay men get waxed. There will be no stray hairs, and you will have the pleasure of laying face down on a massage table, holding your ass cheeks apart and getting hot wax slathered on you.
Item 3: Lube. As much as I love Toys in Babeland, there is a tender spot in my heart for the cavernous West Village staple, Fantasy World. Add to that the fact that they sell my new favorite lube, and we’re smokin’. I love Fantasy World because it is unpretentious, a tad on the sleazy side, but also filled with good stuff (like the Tantus collection of silicone dildos and butt toys).
All I need to do now is pack. But first I have to go out and see Dirck’s band play.
Posted by Dacia at 06:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Dacia and Jane, international whores of mystery
January 13, 2005
The ever lovely Rachel Kramer Bussel, of Lusty Lady blogfame, editor of Naughty Spanking Stories and Village Voice columnist, has written a piece called Whore Pride.
It features my blogging compatriot Jane as well as myself.
My favorite part is my quote that wraps up the article: “It’s important to me to be outspoken because I’m putting my cunt where my sex-positive mouth is. The combination of talking, writing, and doing is really the only way to destigmatize sex work and diverse sexualities generally.”
Like I said to Gracie last night, that’s cool because I sound smart AND I used the word cunt.
As always, I’m interested in your feedback…
Posted by Dacia at 09:35 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Free fall
January 12, 2005
Today I quit my job.
It was partly premeditated, and partly I’m doing this now.
I feel like I completely own my life right now, which is a pretty awesome feeling. I also feel a little like I’ve kicked my own feet out form underneath me. But I supposed that’s better than being surprised by someone or soemthing else causing that to happen.
One of my charming and disarming attributes has always been my predilection for being a control freak. I’ve always been into havgin a very ordered and well-planned life, though that got fucked up a year and a half ago when I got laid off from a job that I cared too much about. At that moment, I had nothing, I felt worthless, like I’d basically been chewed up and spit out. I had no fucking plan.
In the last year and a half, I’ve learned to go with the flow, and maybe even be spontaneous now and again. I feel like I’m basically pretty well-armed with the tools to make the best out of situations and think on my feet. I am braver and braver about just living, and not feeling like I have to research the shit out of something before I jump.
So, enter a new era. Instead of just living from hand to mouth on part time work (a feat in and of itself), I’ll be living from -er- ass to mouth on sex work. And by that I mean – sex work is no longer my sideline, my safety net. It is my sustenance.
And: go.
Posted by Dacia at 01:34 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Committed to the image
January 11, 2005
Technically, I’m a porn virgin. In the parlance of many a teenager, let’s just say that I’ve done “everything but.”
I’ve fucked complete strangers. I’ve fucked strangers for money. I’ve fucked strangers and lovers (sometimes both at once!) in front of strangers and lovers. I’ve gotten naked by myself in front of a camera (still and video) and stuck things into myself. There are pictures of me in compromising positions on the internet. I’ve fucked a boy on camera (my boy, and no you can’t see).
But I’ve never combined all these things into the most common denominator in the porn world: boy-girl fucking that will be packaged and available to the fuck-hungry public. That changes this weekend, when I fly to Los Angeles for the weekend and get nekkid and stuffed with cock for Profane Pirate.
Since I first announced this plan, several people have asked me a few pointed questions that I’ve answered to them personally but are also dandy blog-fodder.
Firstly, I’ve been asked if I’m nervous or excited – the answer is yes to both. Yeah, so maybe this was an either or question, but I don’t like those questions much. I’m confident in my ability to fuck well, hard and long. I am, however, nervous that I will look bad – I’m afraid my skin will break out and look royally teenage and fucked up (I still have somewhat bad skin, despite the fact that I’m almost 25 – I’m an oily Italian) and I’m afraid that I will look chubby and jiggly in that bad way.
I’ve also been asked why I’m doing this, which is a pretty solid question. There are a few different answers to this one. Firstly, I am something of an exhibitionist – this much should be clear from the mere fact of this blog’s existence. But beyond the written word, it does get me hot to know that people are watching me, whether in live action or in the privacy of wherever it is that they wank. But of course there is the hyperintellectual, evangelical pornster in me – which is a really big part of why I’m doing this. I’ve been working in sex for the past three and a half years. I’ve examined and prodded and poked at sex in my head, in my pants, and in other people’s pants. I like the sex. I like the porn, and think that it has great potential for awesomeness. I’ve been an outspoken supporter of porn for several years and decided that it was about time I put my money where my mouth is. Insert pervy joke here, about ‘other” mouths and money. Har har.
Also, I want to make my date-ability even more questionable, as if being a sex-working, graduate-degree-pursuing, multiple-relationship-sustaining introverted pervert wasn’t enough to stomach, my dates will be able to view my fuckstyle and study my moves on the teevee before getting down with me.
Seriously though, I’ve given a lot of thought to the possible consequences, and I think a lot about the worst case scenario, which is not that my parents find out I’m a whore and a pornstar. I believe that will happen eventually, and I know that they won’t stop loving me or disown me or anything crazy like that, though there will be some difficult conversations. The big deal of the worst case scenarios has to do with my straightworld employment, as the whole porn thing could be a problem. I’ve decided that I won’t deny my doings if confronted, but it’s not information I’ll volunteer at every turn. I’ve also decided that I will not be opting to develop any career options that involve children, as the sex thing could be a problem there. And of course public office or a career in evangelical Christian talk radio is probably not an option, unless I renounce my evil ways. Ha!
Bring on the evil, bitches.
Posted by Dacia at 11:41 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Consumer Reports does condoms
January 08, 2005
In the February edition of Consumer Reports there is a pretty extensive report on condoms. Go here for the online version – the print version has several good charts and graphs with an elaborate rating system and is well worth checking out.
Some of my favorite condoms were in the top five – and they are more than worth mentioning here: TheyFit condoms, which you can get through Condomania.com. These condoms are custom made in 55 different sizes: you get a measuring kit and a set of instructions, send in your measurements (which are coded like ZC76 instead of with size names like Teensy Prick or Bendy Cock-o-Weirdness). The result is a perfectly fit condom that is also one of the best condoms on the market, according to Consumer Reports.
One of the interesting things about the CR evaluation is that of the 23 condoms they evaluated, the Planned Parenthood honeydew flavored condoms came in dead last. Because the condom rating thing became the subject of conversation at a party Jane and I were at last night (a party at which sex people and pervs were in the minority, mind you), I had the distinct pleasure of arguing in support of the Planned Parenthood condoms using my personal experience (yes, I know, highly unscientific): “I don’t know, I’ve gotten those honeydew condoms in bulk, and last year I used about 300 of them, and I never had a problem with breakage.” A little bit of silence. Then Jane laughed and said, “And let me tell you, she gives them a rigorous workout.” We’re hilarious. And slutty.
The best thing about the Consumer Reports study, other than the mere fact of its existence, was one of the sidebars about our esteemed (cough cough) government’s Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the lovely wording around safer sex on their website. In short, the CDC fact sheet on condoms used to start out with the sentence “Condoms are effective in preventing HIV and other STDs” but in 2002 this fact sheet was replaced with one beginning with the phrase “The surest way to avoid transmission of sexually transmitted diseases is to abstain from sexual intercourse… or be in a long-term monogamous relationship with someone whom you know is not infected.” Right. So the CDC is pushing the Bush agenda under the guise of good science. Thinking person, beware.
Posted by Dacia at 10:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Art vs. Porn (reprise)
January 06, 2005
The age old debate of what is porn and what is art is always quietly burning in the background of my mind. Well – sort of. I used to think about it a lot, but these days I’ve gotten to a place of peace with the whole business. Or maybe that’s a nicer way to say, “Who gives a shit about labels anyway?”
The debate is not resolved in my head in many ways, although in one of my very first posts, I sort of decided that the difference is in the presentation and materials. Its all about context.
The differentiation has resurfaced a few times recently, and my new favorite things to think on are things said to me by two different photographers in the past week:
- “Porn is something you beat off to.”
- “Porn is something I wouldn’t show my mom.”
Of course there are holes in both of these, but most noticeable in the first comment, because I think perhaps it casts the net of porn too wide. What if you get off on cartoons? Then we move into new territory of fetish imagery vs. porn. More slippery slopes.
Posted by Dacia at 01:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
My secret life
January 04, 2005
…is really not so secret at all.
This is not a new realization, but its one that’s interesting to look at in terms of progression and comparison.
That reads like the most boring sentence ever.
Let’s try to expand this in a not-boring way.
Many people who blog about sex do it very anonymously, for a variety of reasons. For many, blogging is their outlet for secret things they do that they can’t tell anyone in their real life about. This is not the case for me, as I’m pretty open with my real life friends about what I’m up to (some may say too open). When I started blogging, I had a general sense of what I wanted to keep concealed from my readers (my exact places of business, where I go to school, my non-sex career path), but there really aren’t that many limits, and the limits I’ve made I’ve stuck to.
Blogging has made me increasingly honest with my real life friends about what I’m up to – especially in terms of my sex work and my sexcapade, because I know that even if they aren’t current readers, they could easily become so. I have developed quite the honesty fetish, largely because of the blog. Seeing my thoughts and accounts of my doings typed on a screen, a screen anyone can read, makes me hold myself fully accountable for things. Although I’ve kept a paper journal for 10 years and running, I know that there are sections of it papered with lies, lies to myself. But the blog? It’s honest – brutally so about myself, though I am more reserved when it comes to my assessment of others.
It’s because sex, honesty and outness all matter a great deal to me, and to really make this happen, I need to own my shit – my stories, my feelings, my activities. I don’t want to be top-secret about everything, because that would undermine who I am and what I’m doing with myself.
I know, I know, there has been an awful lot of introspection around here, and it’s mostly because I’m hell damned sick. I’ll be better soon and hopefully making with the rock and the roll.
Posted by Dacia at 07:25 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A-porning we will go
Well folks, its official, the tickets are bought, the date is set: I’m going to Los Angeles to make some porn.
I’m going dead smack in the middle of January, the weekend before my second semester of grad school begins.
Who, you may wonder, is the lucky company? Why, it’s Profane Pirate. Check them out and show them some love, because they are really trying to do right by themselves and their performers.
And oh yes, there will be condoms.
Posted by Dacia at 01:07 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
The skin I'm in
January 02, 2005
Living in a body, any body, is an individual experience with an individual perspective.Living in my body is getting increasingly interesting.
I’ve always considered myself to be a very self aware person, though this was once something that worked against me. When I was younger, as I’ve written about before, I was a cutter and I had a pretty severe eating disorder. I still bear scars (faint, but I can see them and remember) on my arms from years of slicing my skin open with razors and watching the beads of blood smear on my forearms. My throat is still a little ragged from the years of throwing up whenever I ate more than 250 calories a day.
But something has happened to me over the past few years, and its something extraordinary and awesome. I’ve come to know my body in a new way, and a lot of this new knowledge has to do with smut, from two vantage points: viewer and (slowly but slowly) participant.
This weekend, I got out of New York and made a trek to Massachusetts to take my clothes off. Yes, I know, I can take my clothes of quite well here in New York but I was headed to work with a particular photographer and shoot an assload of photos (1000 of them, at final count).
We did some good stuff, variously involving me being naked near a waterfall (yes, I know its January), leopard print, being naked with candy, and my personal favorite, being naked with powertools.
I had these weird moments of self-awareness, feeling comfortable in my skin with a degree of awareness of what my skin looks like from the outside. And this looking out/looking in now actually feels like a realistic view, not one hazed by my self-hatred, which I seem to have shed almost entirely. From this vantage point, I understand better how my body works, I know what clothes flatter it, what poses work best, and how to tilt my hips just so that you can see my pierced hood from behind while I’ve got my hands against a wall.
This is an intimate knowledge of my body, one gained not only from practicing self love in the form of excessive masturbation, but actually through seeing my body more: in mirrors, in photographs, in videos. Am I seeing myself through everyone else’s eyes? No, there’s no way that can be accomplished. But I’m seeing myself through happy eyes, eyes that like me and the skin I’m in.
Posted by Dacia at 06:13 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
New Year’s Housekeeping
January 01, 2005
So as a year end thing wherein I cleanse my computer and my blogger account of all posts that I never quite got around to finishing, I started to get a little panicky about throwing away all these half assed posts. Yes, I’m a pack rat to the max.
So I’ve recycled these puppies, as haikus. Yes, it’s true…
Waking Vixen Presents: The Posts That Never Were
Crossing the line, I attempt to destigmafy whoring for myself.
Fuck the CDC: “To avoid transmission, be monogamous now.”
Dichotomies are dumb. But they help to let people sleep at night.
My blog is the death of storytime with my friends. They’ve read them before.
An orgasm a day keeps my brain chemicals in check, keeps them calm.
You may notice that I’ve reorganized the sidebar a bit – for the newcomers and otherwise curious, there is a link to a blog called Slut Parade, devoted to recording the main players in my life. The blog will be contributed to by Jane and Jefferson as well, since there are many hilarious ways in which our sex lives overlap.
Posted by Dacia at 01:28 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
