: April 2001 : Darklady
time we kissed, she grabbed the sides of my head and my
new piercing would hurt. I had not expected to be kneeling,
nudity-to-nudity, on a flannel-sheet-covered, four-poster
bed, brushing wavy brown hair away from the deceptively
innocent face of one of my favorite kinky porn vixens.
I had not expected to hear her huskily praise my kissing
and my beauty. I had not expected to see a pervy video
starlet nearby, walking on the fingernail-bloodied back
of a dome-shaved martial-arts student while he vigorously
fucked the bitch he loved. Nor had I expected to go into
Puncture earlier that pleasant Los Angeles afternoon and
get a tragus piercing. It had been a day filled with surprises.
It had begun wholesomely enough, lunching
on Mexi-veggie food with Mel, a Ph.D program escapee,
discussing the special challenges involved in surviving
ethically intact as women in the sex industry vs. the
academic world, and laughing at which one we'd found to
be more sexist. Then it was time to hook up with my evil
goth compatriots and visit Puncture. Susie was getting
a conch piercing. Ellen needed her lobes stretched. I
was there so that the Three Dark Graces could be in one
spot at the same time. Mel was our moral support.
I had not been to Puncture since September
of 2000, when I had marked a personal rite of passage
with a nostril piercing. My life, as usual, was in a state
of dynamic change when I returned to the studio on St.
Patrick's Day. I seem perpetually to thrive in the crucible
that cooks my soul, where the dark and the light sides
of the yin/yang collide and caress. Where my two great
passions--my work and my relationships--meet. Big changes.
Big feelings. Big risks. Big rewards. It was rare for
the Three Dark Graces to find themselves together and
at leisure. The urge to commemorate the moment and the
important transitions occurring in my life was strong.
Although all restrictions had been lifted for my business
trip to porn valley, I remained the precious property
of beloved Polymnos and thus a permanent body modification
made without consultation and permission would have been
Modern PCS cellular technology came to
the aid of the ancient urge to ornament and enhance my
flesh; nervously, I explained the situation to Polymnos
and asked his opinion. After a brief discussion, permission
was granted with one condition, and I was soon wearing
a silver ring with a red gem bead through a cartilaginous
part of my right ear. A fashion statement to others. A
symbolism-rich reminder and meditation point to me.
"I had not expected
to be kneeling, nudity-to-nudity, on a flannel-sheet-covered,
four-poster bed, brushing wavy brown
hair away from the deceptively innocent face of one of
my favorite kinky porn vixens."
Once our bodies were thus celebrated,
the obvious next step was milk shakes and burgers at the
famous Mel's (not affiliated with our companion, alas).
It was there that my next surprise occurred. It was there
that the cell phone rang and Lena Ramon, who had been
unable to attend the previous night's "GayVN Awards" as
my date, invited me to a party as hers.
And thus I found myself at midnight kneeling,
reclining, sitting naked with my hands full of tiny porn-princess
flesh and hair, her pierced nipples between my lips, her
lips between my teeth, my hands in her hair, on her ass
and her pussy. A little spanking, a lot of kissing, a
lot of pillow talk. And bruises on my shoulder where her
slender fingers had attempted to massage the eternal tension
from my form. Slender fingers that reached hungrily for
my breasts while others lavished her with attention.
It had been a day of surprises. Delightful
and meaningful pointers to change and growth. Like a child,
perhaps, I view boundaries as something to be tested,
something to be pressed against and relocated. I keep
the temperature high in my soul kitchen. I wonder what
delicious surprises its heat will produce for me next.
2001 X Mag, LLC. All rights reserved. copyright | trademark | legal notices