Impressions from "Sin City" aka closest place to hell on earth, which manages to be pretty damn fun when chock full of porn stars!
As the madness wound down and the convention floor emptied, I ran into a fellow pro domme walking out of the small GayVN section tucked away in the corner of the expo. This stunning Los Angeles deviatrix, her look a cross between classic Betty Page and Morticia Addams, devastated in her thigh high boots and strappy leather corset. What, pray tell, was she doing here?
"I'm looking for boys to work for me," she said cooly. With a glint in her eye, she revealed her fetish for depraving men with forced bi scenes. Her eyebrows raised in excitement as she described hard-bodied boys flirting with each other all around her, pulling out her camera to show off a few prize pics she snapped.
In the photos she was a Queen surrounded by a bevy of toned and tanned twinks. Yeah, I love it when I meet fellow true believers. She was the real deal. She didn't just act the part of deviator. She lived it.
I was in sexy butch blend-in mode in my camouflage pants, platform boots and a CBGB t-shirt. My cohort, on the other hand, kept attracting the attention of the last lingering fans, who would periodically interrupt us with requests to take her picture. She flat out refused with some and gamely agreed to with others. One guy futilely asked her to show her "boobies" -- he actually used that word -- to which she sneered and slyly gave him the finger as she posed. I don't even think he noticed. I guess he wasn't looking at her fingers!
The place was practically empty when a woman from Playboy Radio came up and asked my friend if she represented the booth we happened to be standing in front of. After she said no, the woman asked if she would be willing to go on the radio to talk about whoever she represented. She thought for a second, then said "No thank you."
After the woman had left, I told my friend that we had missed an opportunity to present ourselves as a Dominatrix Dynamic Duo, ta- dah! Anyways, the only likely result of that would have been a marked increase in the number of wanker emails we receive. When it comes to my personal presentation, I come from the school of less is more. Better to maintain some mystery and distance, so that I know that those who serve me have put in some effort to find me.
We decided to continue our conversation over dinner. The closest restaurant in the Venetian was crowded with industry people and the wait was at least half an hour, so we high-tailed it to the food court. It looked like any other food court in a shopping mall, but with a few surreal touchs. As we sat there for hours trading "war stories" and sharing how we got to be the kinky bitches we are, controversial porn pioneer/scumball Max Hardcore hovered at the periphery in his trademark cowboy hat, smoozing with other insiders.
I excused myself to the bathroom. In line in front of me was an old lady talking to a very pretty blond who I recognized as Digital Playground star Jesse Jane. Despite her super-bumped up chest, she had a girl-next-door look about her, looking stylish yet not overtly sexy in jeans and a cream jacket.
The older woman, the kind of lady you can see going to church regularly in her nice little community, was asking her if she'd seen the Blue Man show playing at the Venetian. Jesse said no, that they had just come back here for ice cream. "What a nice young lady," I could just imagine the old lady thinking, "I wish my grandson were here to met her."
I marvelled at how she fit in like that. It probably made her happy to just be a sweet All American girl for a moment. When it was her turn to go, she was in and out of the stall in less than 30 seconds. "My! That was fast," said the old lady, innocently.
With my exotic kohl-lined eyes, bra-less in my red punk shirt and shit-kicking boots, I knew it was unlikely that this lady would strike up a conversation with me! Such is life. . .
Good girls. Bad girls. The games we play.
