Diary of a Peepshow Princess

Coming Out. Again.

2012-02-09T16:16:00.002-08:00

To return to the original purpose of this blog I needed to take a hiatus. At first just a month, then two, this break was meant to get me back on the track of writing for me, for my own self-reflection. The last 6 months or so I found I needed to censure everything I wrote in one way or another to keep myself from giving away parts of my identity I hadn't and didn't know how to come out about. Part of my hesitation to come out while my new personal and professional developments occurred was to protect the thoughts and feelings of others, and in short, to protect myself from having to deal with them. Alas, my attempts at self preservation were ill inclined and I ended up enacting some serious self-destruction. Giving some things away and not others, I ultimately burned myself out on self-reflection as a whole, but with both time and private writings under my belt I do believe I am back for good.

So hello again dearest diary (and friends, family, strangers, patrons, and acquaintances).

Get ready for some serious coming out.

Personal Statement

2011-12-01T12:23:00.000-08:00

Sorry y'all! I've disappeared the last couple months, focusing my energy into getting this law school underway, but it's all coming together now and I thought I would publicly share my personal statement. This is probably my second to last draft, so I anticipate feedback!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As an undergraduate history student at San Francisco State University, I was always drawn to stories of labor action, progressive social change and communities flourishing despite facing seemingly insurmountable adversity. Stories of people actively shaping and reshaping the world in which they live to provide a better future for themselves and their families ingrained themselves into my psyche more so than the important survey knowledge of dates and locations, a crux for any serious history student. Since graduation, my interest in stories of change has only grown and I am hoping to earn a law degree to not only continue learning from these kinds of stories, but to also add myself to them, taking strides to make positive changes in the world around me, especially in the realm of labor and the sex industry.

While doing research in the campus Labor Archives my junior year of college, I happened across stacks of articles about the radical unionization of the Lusty Lady peepshow theater in 1997 and their momentous move to become a co-operative business in 2003, changing my unforeseeable future. That summer I became a dancer at the Lusty Lady, the world’s only unionized and worker-owned adult entertainment facility, consistently working until 3am, when needed, throughout my graduating year. As soon as I passed my probationary period I became an active member of both the SEIU local 1021 and the co-operative, filling some of the most crucial administrative positions.

In my mere two-and-a-half-years as a sex-worker, working for some of the safest, most independent, and feminist-minded places, I have still personally experienced and witnessed others grapple with social and judicial challenges I would not wish upon anyone. As a sex-worker, stigmatization from friends, family members, potential employers, school administrators, landlords and social workers is a constant reminder that sex-work, even in its most legal forms, is not seen as a moral or legitimate profession, resulting in fear, isolation, lost jobs, lost children, closed doors and fewer opportunities. In my experience, the psychological and, unfortunately sometimes, physical harm, would not be so pervasive if the work were seen as equal to that of a retail clerk, banker or another professional, like a lawyer.

Six months ago, I started working with the Bay Area chapter of SWOP (Sex Worker Outreach Project), a national social justice network dedicated to the end of sex industry stigma, harm and inequality through peer support, education and advocacy. With SWOP, I have learned to work on a team to reach out to others in need of health services, legal resources and, sometimes most importantly, a simple friendly ally to a sex-worker, former sex-worker or family member of someone in the business. I have had the honor of speaking on panels, representing sex-workers in school lecture halls and creating public events that bring the voices of sex-workers to academics, other activists and each other. With them I have realized that change, however small, can be accomplished with passion and dedication to hard work.

As my disgruntled grandma likes to remind me, getting into this line of work has been completely my choice and, according to her, delving into sex-work activism is a “nice thing to do,” but relegated to “those people,” unworthy of my or anyone else’s attention. Part of what my grandma says is true: though I grew up in a lower-middle class family, I am fortunate enough to have an education and enough work experience that I can do anything to pay my expenses. However, I cannot disagree more with her insistence of tolerance for the existing social conditions. As I have learned from studying the trajectory of other movements in this country, including civil rights, gay rights, feminist and labor, modification of and innovation upon the status quo only occurs when people from all walks of life, marginalized and privileged, come together and act for equality, not only in their own interest, but in that of others’ as well.

Dear High School Drama Teacher

2011-11-12T12:37:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. Mills (my high school's drama teacher):

You always knew I was never drama geek material, but I'm thankful you never gave up trying to force it down my throat. Tricks for line memorization, improv, costume, and serious role play, though ineffectual at the time, have seemed to have reestablish themselves into my person and are actually revealing to be quite useful. As an adult entertainer, these things are more than necessary.

Yes, playing Juliet in our class's contmporary version of "Romeo and Juliet" was a complete failure, having forgotten (ie not actually memorized) most of the lines in my scene, awkwardly sputtering out "Oh happy dagger, here's thy sheath. There rest and let me die," peaking at you through half-closed eyelids while trying to appear dead. Who knew that this would only be the beginning?

At the time I know I thought your idea of using the dramatic arts as a means to stimulate creativity in problem solving, to inspire kinesthetic and empathetic understanding of other people and environments, and to make us all team players was a bunch of hogwash that my anti-social self just didn't want to acclimate to. Well sir, now I am ever so grateful and I wish I could take back all the times I chose to build sets instead of auditioning for the lead. You must be so disappointed so many of your leading ladies and gentlemen have left the theater and turned to more 'stable' jobs, foregoing song and dance, homemade bustles and pompadours for suits and ties and regular paychecks (and not the small one's given to high school drama teachers.)

I hope that my renewed interest in the dramatic arts will make you proud. Without you and your overwhelming dedication to the stage I never would have been able to become a convincing adult baby girl, believable bi-curious college co-ed, hypnotic bratty princess, or overbearing MILF. Ok, you might be a little disappointed that these are porn personas, but hey, they're legitimate paid gigs and a hell of a lot more interesting than most of your most dedicated students careers.

I'd direct you to my work so you can see proof of my utilization of theatrical elements, but, for reasons that should be obvious, I think that would be highly inappropriate. With that you'll just have to take the results of your good efforts at my word and my gratitude from afar.

Sincerely,
Sandy Bottoms

(Dear readers I won't hide things from you! I'll post links to my newest porn adventures as soon as I can!)

Law School Saga

2011-10-26T13:07:00.000-07:00

The law school saga continues...

Tomorrow I get the results of the LSATs and I can start plugging away information into all the online electric application forms, a suprisingly tedious and momentous task. According to LSAC graphs and charts my high GPA and, what I hope to be, a high LSAT score still isn't going to cut it for the competitive Bay Area law schools. As I stand now I am average. Boring. Easily passable for other, more groomed applicants, people who have had the idea of "law school" drilled into their heads even before leaving the womb and professional guidance ever since.

Though lacking the grooming other applicants have certainly had, I think I can make up for it, or rather, I NEED to make up for my unexceptional academic prep by writing a kick ass personal statement. Banking on my experiences as a sex-worker and sex-work advocate, I am providing full discloser of my work history, painting a full picture of what I hope to accomplish with a law degree. I understand that this move can totally work to my disadvantage, ensuring that I don't get accepted into top notch schools whose application review panel may be loaded with topnotch, conservative law professors. If it does indeed turn out to be the case that I am barred because of my politics then my response is simply this: I don't want to go to your school anyway (and you WILL know me as someone who forces a change in your standards later :) ).

Now the sticky part of the application process is gathering letters of recommendation. Like anyone who is returning to school after having been out of the academic loop for a while it takes some finagling to get the appropriate content. Schools recommend getting applications by reconnecting with old professors and hitting up employers, which brings up two problems: the first being I was a Middle Eastern history major. "Hello Muslim/Iranian professor whose politics, I'm pretty sure, are super conservative when it comes to sex-work. I need you to write me a letter praising what I have been doing for the past 2 years." I just don't think it's going to happen. The second is I've been in lead administrative positions at the Lusty and we are a cooperative. Who exactly is going to be a "legitimate" reference?

As frustrated and scared that I am I do have faith that it will all come together in the end and I will be able to get into at least one of my preferred schools. Until then I am just going to keep plugging along and will keep interested parties posted!

Writing It Up for SF Weekly

2011-10-21T12:03:00.000-07:00

Guess what guys! I've been invited to start writing for SF Weekly's Exhibitionist blog and my first post came out this morning! Since it's been a super hectic week my Exhibitionist post is going to take the place of my regular post, but I pinkie promise I'll post more real soon.

Want to check it out?

International Fisting Day: Courtney Trouble Says Put Your Dukes Up (and IN!) Against Censorship

And, even more importantly, happy International Fisting Day everybody! I can't stress enough how into the hard work Courtney Trouble, Jiz Lee, and all other bloggers/tweeters/porn-lovers/porn-consumers have put into making Fisting Day the phenomenon it is. Jeeze Louise, who wouldn't want to celebrate? You know I will.

Lusty Lady schedule for the week of October 24th

Tuesday 10/25: In Private Pleasures 9 to 1045 am, on stage (and available for VIP) until 3pm.

Friday 10/28: In Private Pleasures 11am to 1245pm, on stage (and available for VIP) until 3pm.

Bye-Bye Braces

2011-10-10T09:30:00.000-07:00

My orthodontist recently told me that my juvenile looking braces should be ready to come off sometime around Thanksgiving. As embarrassed as I am to be an adult with braces, being the only person over age 16 in the Disney-themed office fit with bubblegum flavored gloves and wooden nickels as rewards for a good brushing regimen (to be cashed in for such awesome prizes like Gameboy games and toys, no less), getting repeatedly asked at bars and movie theaters for my identification, keeping my mouth shut for photos during my college graduation, I am actually kind of sad to have them go. Instead of being excited about all the candied apples and beef jerky I will now be able to consume without breaking brackets I am having an identity crisis; who is Sandy Bottoms without her braces?

The 'Sandy Bottoms' persona's existance, running parallel to that of the braces, has been good to me. If you scroll through adult entertainers ads you find that there are a lot of girls that match my description: white, curvy, dark hair and eyes, "girl-next-door" kind of look. As accessories these pain's in the gums have set me apart (aren't I witty, friends?). Braces, being unmovable props for "youth" fantasies, have helped me bring out a naive, giddy, and girly sexual projection of my real self that probably would not have come out otherwise. They've made me different. Without them, I feel I lose the novelty of my character and get lost in the crowd.

So now what? I'm too partial to 'Sandy' to give her up, but she's going to have to go through some sort of chick-flick style make-over. Pin-up goddess? Too high maintenance. Goth vamp? I don't think anyone would take that seriously. Barbie as opposed to Skipper? Maybe. I suppose the montage of possibilities is endless.

Predictably this crisis is extending itself into the real world as I reshape my goals and priorities, seeking a clearer sense of self and roles in the larger picture. Drastic changes in my romantic and familial relationships, Lusty Lady positions, involvement in different kinds of sex-worker activism, and a head-first dive into my career is all happening at the same time. Utterly overwhelming and taxing, yet exhilerating. The braces are coming off and everything is going to be straight, shiny, and new.

Grounding Exercise

2011-09-27T10:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I forget I have interests beyond sex-work and that I am indeed a dynamic human being that doesn't have to be serious all the time. This is my 5 year old selves's grounding exercise. Apologies for sharing with you.

My name is *Sandy*. I have a pet tortoise names Tuga, enough dresses to clothe a drag football team, and brown eyes. My favorite foods are lasagna and pickles. And if I'm in a Thai restaurant I only order one thing: pad see ew with tofu.

I can't go anywhere near a pole - vertical water pipe, overhang support - without forgetting where I am, clinging to it, and dancing like I'm at work. Inappropriate, I know.

My partner is a math major and I can never decipher the complicated squiggles on his white board. Regardless of my lack of understanding I like to show off his work to anyone that comes to my apartment. Visitors have learned to tolerate this proud partner tendency.

I like to make crap out of other crap and I have more DIY craft sites saved in my bookmarks than anything else. Gluten-free baking sites are a close second.

These boob cakes were not gluten-free:

But these cupcakes were:

When I am not working I am reading: when my partner leaves my side to go to the bathroom, during movie previews, and sometimes even while walking. Its a terrible habit I've had since the tender age of 4.

I've come to grips with the fact that playing dress-up is not something I do just to make money or an indulgence for important holidays like Halloween and Rosh Hashanah, but is truly a way of life. (Enter cheese-ball claims about how looking good makes me feel good etc etc.) Coordinating a hiking costume or "studying at the cafe" outfit, complete with sweater-vest and red think-rimmed non-prescription glasses, has become my reality.

When I was a child I collected rocks, Barbies, and stamps. As an adult I've moved onto scary-looking antique medical supplies, vintage hats, and sex-toys. Tom-Ay-toe - Tom-ahh-toe.

I used to have favorite colors, but I've learned over the years its rude to be discriminatory.

Grievances

2011-09-22T16:02:00.000-07:00

Some may call me a sexual health hypochondriac. Others may label me paranoid as every single bump in the night leads to me frantically calling the nurse's hotline in the morning and running to my local gyno office. I, however, think of it as necessary maintenance for my lifestyles as both a proud slut and sex-worker. My doctors, products of a private health care system, don't quite know what to do with an anomaly such as me.

Some of the time I get helpful, genuine responses from nurses and physicians. Most of the time my candidness about my sexual status is responded to with facts and care dished with a side of awkwardness (apparently they don't prepare interns to actually hear the truth about their patients in med school.) Every now and then I confront a medical professional who goes above and beyond their duty to answer medical questions and to treat ailments, choosing to (obviously) let their personal opinions creep into my health care.

The last chapter in this saga was just last week (this may very well be tmi. By all means skip ahead if you'd like to not hear about the health of my cooch.) when I called the Kaiser Permanente advice nurse to ask about a prescription for a normal bacterial or yeast infection, things most women regardless of profession and relationship status get all the time. At first she was friendly and patient then (thinking, like always, it is best to divulge as much information about myself so I can get the best health care I can) I told her my sexual history (including the fact that I use condoms and gloves regularly) and got erratic, unsettling behavior. She swore I had herpes and probably some other STIs too and that I was jeopardizing the health of my future babies by my actions, making me an appointment for my gyno the next morning.

(Let me pause here: this is ANOTHER big thing that is crappy about dealing with health care providers. They assume since I have a uterus I want and will have children. Big news for you KP: I don't want any, nor do I plan on having any so you can please take your patriarchal head out of my ovaries.)

I went to my appointment a nervous wreck, knowing that I had been treated poorly, but actually convinced that I needed to seek medical attention. My doctor took a quick look between my legs and said no one in their right mind would have diagnosed me as having herpes or any other STI, though she did a full screening just to pacify my still worried and confused expressions. Owning my original concerns to regular female biochemistry (what I had thought in the first place!) she inferred again that had the advice nurse actually listened to me the night before the appointment and my night of worrying about my life choices would have been avoided entirely.

In the past I have swept such negative interactions under the rug, whining and woe-ing to friends and co-workers about the BS sex-workers and sluts have to go through dealing with doctors and nurses while never actually doing anything about it. I'm tired of whining to the choir and listening to others preach about how they've had terrible experiences with their doctors and their nurses too. This time I'm going to do more than whine -- I'm going to encourage others to whine too. AND to whine loudly.

Do you have stories to share? Please do!

Do you have resources for others to submit grievances and feedback to health care providers? Please share!

What You Need to Know About Auditions

2011-09-18T13:09:00.000-07:00

Weeks leading to an audition I receive a mountain of applications, emails and phone from prospect auditionees. Monthly this tends to be around 30 people. About 10 (give or take a few) actually show up for the audition. To keep the scheduling balance (to not take away shifts from tenured dancers, but have enough as back up) we hire about 3-4 of these auditionees, keeping in mind that some may change their minds about sex-work or will quit for some other reason, max out on points, or will have to be fired for being crazy/solicitation etc etc. Fortunately, we have been able to keep the vast majority of the newly hired babes the last few rounds and will be accepting some as co-op members in the very near future, which is, of course, one of the best parts of working at the Lusty Lady.

Ladies we decide to hire are judged upon the following things:

-appearance (are they/will they femme up? do they have a look our patrons will like? are they energetic and flirty? etc *Note this does NOT mean weight/height/ethnicity/sexual-orientation/experience-level specifications. We have dancers of all makes and models.)

-performance (do they dance well/can they learn quickly to dance better? are they having a positive experience? are they afraid to approach the windows? etc)

-availability (do they have an availability that match our needs as a business? are they auditioning for props in a women's studies class (ie only want 1 shift a week)? If not available Fri/Sat night and on-call forget it)

-interview (are they easy to get along with? are they interested in the co-op/union? are they easy to communicate with?)

As everyone can imagine making decisions about auditions is not easy and as a madam team we cannot and we do not let our personal feelings about an individual or a group of people get ahead of what we feel is right for our business. Whether the auditionee is a friend/relative/partner of one of us or of a co-op member we judge everyone equally.

If you are interested in auditioning at the Lusty Lady here are some tips:

-Study for your test! Your most important resource is the live show, both Private Pleasures and the main stage, and talking with the girls (please understand you are taking their time and focus so please tip accordingly.) Supplementary study material can include porn, our documentary Live Nude Girls Unite, and Lusty Lady events outside of our Kearny address.

-Practice! Put on your tallest heels, strip down to your birthday suit and dance like you've got a room full of happy customers watching.

-Have fun playing dress-up! Remember you want to bring a make-up and hairspray enhanced fierce and sexy you to the audition. The stage lights tend to wash us out so don't be afraid to go a little heavier with the make-up and to try new things like false eyelashes and glitter.

-Put on a good face! Confidence is everything. Though you may be having the time of your life on stage, if we can't read sexy confidence on your face most likely our patrons can't either and that just doesn't work. No one is comfortable watching an angry/upset/on-the-verge-of-a-nervous-breakdown stripper.

-Bring us some OOOMFFF in your interview! MAKE us remember you. We will ask you general and logistical questions, but feel free to push it further. Have you been carrying around your copy of the Lusty Lady zine, reading like the Bible? Tell us! If you're obsessed with us, we will be obsessed with you.

If you've auditioned before and you didn't get a call back and you can't find a reason in the above passage feel free to ask for feedback and audition again. I, like many of our most established dancers at the Lusty, did not get hired at my first audition (believe me, I can tell you everything this hot little mess did wrong.)

All Work and No Play Makes Sandy A Very Horny Girl

2011-08-31T15:35:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if it is because I need to release the extra tension and stress that studying and work have caused me or if the Bay Area's Indian summer just has me in heat, but I've been watching a lot of porn lately. And I mean A LOT of porn. Like twice a day of dirty streaming alone time "must have an orgasm now" porn sessions on top of wrangling my partners into bed. While probably half of the time I can't recall what I got off to even minutes after clearing my computer's history (I think I'm part goldfish, what can I say?), I have noticed that I have a pretty wide range in porn tastes.

(Again, this is half-assed bullet time since I'm really procrastinating with my studies more than anything.)

-gay dude porn: I probably watch more dude on dude porn than anything which I attribute to the audio. Most girl/girl, girl/dude porn sounds sooooooo fake. I can't stand the exaggerated screams and "oh babys" that runneth out of the mouths of the girls in these videos, no matter how hot the action actually is. Gay porn (without music) has real grunts that always do it for me.

-throat fuck: Again, my preference goes back to the sounds. I like the choking, gagging, and gasps for air.

-arty scenes (straight and queer): As long as there is no music or too obvious plastic surgery in expensive and tastefully shot scenes I am into them. These may include: fancy backlighting, crisp-clean sheets, velvet curtains, long-caresses, and shots of couples staring into each other's eyes.

-Kink.com's Public Disgrace: Mmmm I love me some hardcore public gangbangs and humiliating BDSM.

-masturbation clips: You'd think I've be desensitized considering my current profession is to watch people jack off for a living, but I'm really into it.

-age play (sshhhh, I haven't told my sex-partners this, but sometimes even incest play): Yup, sometimes I think the whole dirty old man neighbor spying on the young girl next door thing is hot or unsuspecting babysitter or ...

-outside amateur scenes: Did you just whip out your iphone and film your experimental little selves doing it out in the woods during your camping trip? You totally did and I totally liked it.

I'd like to think of myself as an equal opportunity viewer and, while I only listed my favorites, I think I've perused (if not whacked it to) pretty much everything from clown porn to BBW to foot fetish to masturbation instruction.

Gym Fantasies

2011-08-27T13:08:00.000-07:00

I can see you, you know? Swarming around me like hungry sharks after a lonely kill. Sauntering up next to me at the free weights, using the treadmill to my immediate left and right even though there are at least 20 other cardio machines not being used, adding more speed, more resistance to your contraptions so you can show off your big manly-man muscles for me. Your huffing and puffing at the gym is flattering, really, and lets loose all kinds of kinky fantasies that are trapped in my head, but perhaps you would rather not like to know about them.

Oh sure, one or two of you macho guys might be into my naughty notions momentarily, but I hardly feel that they are quite what you have in mind. It doesn't take a third eye to see what you are thinking: hot sweaty, Lycra swathed sex on top of the giant inflatable work-out ball, where we bounce and our grunts and pants ring off the cement and mirrored surfaces. Heck, I even bet you'd be into having your spot guy join in every once in a while, though if I asked you to describe your fantasy aloud you might leave that part out.

A glimmer of pride sparkles in your pretty blue eyes as I casually size you up. You're probably thinking I'm swooning over your hard pecks, your bulging arms, or taunt sinewy back, but sorry boys, what I'm really trying to figure is just how much jump rope it would take to tie you up to that smelly padded bench you're sitting on. I'm measuring you up like you do me, though in addition to imagining what you look like naked and hot out of a shower, I'm trying to figure out what amount of weight would I have to lay over your wrists and ankles to have you immobile and star-fished on that yoga mat (and if it would be possible for me to physically drag the weights from across the room to do it.)

Don't worry, I'd play with you a little bit so the whole scene isn't too homoerotic for you. Maybe I'd strip down to my sports bra and undershorts, stepping close so you can smell the pheromones I've worked up during my 3 mile stationary bike ride and 10 flights of stairs. I'd grab a spare resistance cable and play with your bits, getting your cock rigid with my plastic touch, leaving only a few lash marks across those chiseled ass cheeks.

We can play fitness trainer. You'll be outfitted only in running shoes and yellow sweat bands as I give you my version of circuit training. I'll start you on the treadmill with 5 minutes of intense jogging and masturbation. Don't you dare cum or lose that erection or its off to nipple weight jumping jacks if you do. After, it will be 100 sit-ups with me standing over you, counting the reps each time you bury your face into my crotch. Followed by me sitting on your sculpted back for 3 minutes of planks, anal plug dead-lifts, and finishing with some mellow stretches and the adoption of your new mantra "I'm a big boy now with big boy muscles." If you've done well following orders (maybe) I'll reward you with a steam room throat fuck (please don't take more than 5 minutes to cum because I truly hate the heat.)

Granted, I know better than most to judge a book by its cover or, rather, a jock by his basketball shorts, but I hardly feel like our fantasies are aligning, so please don't bother to bustle up the courage to ask me out to dinner or coffee or a casual dip in the whirlpool to play the machismo card in front of all of your tough boyfriends, disturbing me from my grueling half hour of self-care. Unless, that is, you are as much of a Eric Stanton fan as I am.

Stripper Trip Update

2011-08-08T22:50:00.000-07:00

Homesick and sick with a cold I am back in New Mexico dancing with Crush at the club I dubbed "stripper paradise" some months ago. Busy as I have been with work and studying back in SF I couldn't stay away when Crush asked if I wanted to go back. So here I am, grinding and booty-bumping for another week in the nicely AC'd titty bar I am slowly becoming familiar with. While some of my experiences and the characters this time around have been pretty intense (and I'd like to add unfortunately normalized in the strip club atmosphere) I have run into some positive notables as well.

(Dear readers, I apologize for the jumbled mess that is this blog. Cold meds and exhaustion aren't conducive to clear writing. Hence, bullet points.)

-"Pervert Corner," the darkest, most isolated part of the club that isn't in the VIP or champagne room, is a sure place to get money, as the inhabitants are always ready for a dancers, though dancer beware, this customer will ALWAYS be creepy, overly touchy, and mentally exhausting.

-Patrons wearing basketball shorts and sweat pants come to strip clubs for a clear purpose: to get off in their pants. Again, these guys are sure money. As sure as the cum on your thighs.

-Fake tits=more money. Asian ancestry=more money. It doesn't matter how busted the dancer looks (the fake tits can even be facing different directions) or how unengaged (erg dumb) they are.

-Guys with a "thing" may not always be big spenders, but they can awful entertaining. I wasn't able to do any dances for "fake tattoo guy," but I have a sweet dinosaur on my bicep.

-Although dressing room relationship advice may sometimes be so-so, it al always sincere and heartfelt.

-Phony phone numbers and false "real" names are an important part of the stripper persona. Sorry boys (and sometimes ladies), you make us do it.

-Meeting awesome, intelligent, and cute patrons, though rare, totally happens. I am so very thankful when the happy chance occurs (and kick myself sometimes for having hard boundaries against dating them.)

-If you ask a guy what he does for work and he responds "independent contractor" it means he is a drug dealer.

That's all I have for now! I'll add more to the list over the next few days.

Faking It

2011-08-01T22:41:00.000-07:00

Yes boys and girls I fake it. I will deny it, and I will be so very good at denying it, but its true. I fake it all the time. Not with YOU, of course. Just with everyone else.

Don't get me wrong the sex is G-R-E-A-T and I do cum. And when I do cum I come like redwood hard, making me sweat and moan, quake and shake just like you're used to, leaving me to fight back the urge to grin like an idiot from ear to ear. Oh, I tell sweet baby Jesus, it is nearly Biblical good.

But, you know, sometimes it is so very good I hit a plateau -- not the bad kind at the bottom of some terrible cavern, but the kind nearly at the peak of some mighty mountain range and I damn near see the tippy-top of the precipice, however my mind just won't let me get pushed over the edge.

This is the juncture you, taking personal offense at potentially having me fake it on you or thinking back along your own sex track record you wonder if any other ladies and gents have given you a spectacular show, cross your arms and say that I don't have to fake it for you. Of course I know I don't have to fake it for you. If the sex was dreadful, believe me, I'd tell you. Passive and submissive as I may be, I'm still not into shutting my trap and sticking with some bad sex.

So lets steer away from the "what you could be doing better" talk and your unnecessarily hurt ego.

Call me narcissistic, but my peals of ecstasy are not to protect your feelings. Faking it is all about me: about me not being able to go over that ledge, which can certainly be frustrating sometimes, causing figurative blue balls and the desperate need for a cold shower (which, I would like to point out, sometimes happens even after the most knee-shattering of orgasms.): about me actually becoming more aroused as my fake big O sounds trick my head into releasing a real one: about me wanting to finish the grand scene with a dramatic ending for my own spank-bank: and, only once in a blue moon, about me feeling embarrassed about my own sexual inadequacy.

So I lied before, I probably have pulled a fast one on you (and everyone else) a time or two and, though I have explained myself thoroughly, you probably will still sulk and question whenever you hear those familiar "ooohs" and "ahhhhs" escape my lips. But never fear, though I may replicate Kat'z Delicatessen every once in a while, I still come back for more.

______________________________________________
Want to see me at the Lusty Lady?
This Wednesday 8/3 I will be in Private Pleasures 11am to 1245pm and on stage 1 to 3pm
Thursday 8/4 I will be on stage until 230pm and having some double trouble action with newbie Tania in Private Pleasures 3 to 445pm!!

Going Back

2011-07-11T19:29:00.000-07:00

Its that time of year again. Summer is here, and while most people I know my age have finished up their semesters and are free at least for the summer, I start blowing off the layer of dust coating my stack of LSAT prep books and flattening out crumpled scan trons. Although I knew this time last year I would have to buckle down and get back to academic work this July the feelings of constriction and uncertainty have somehow snuck up on me.

Part of me is so ready to go back to school, to step away from the irregularity that has become my life, and immerse myself in law dictionaries, libraries, and mid-term test anxiety. Familiar and safe, school is something I know I am good at, something I can tell the grandparents all about, who will then declare their much coveted pride about their sweet granddaughter -a future lawyer!-to all their friends.

*Gag*

As much luke-warm fuzziness as these images give me they also mean radical upheaval in my life, necessitating change I am not quite sure I am ready for: limiting my time for the Lusty Lady and other sex-work, my emotional bandwidth for friends and partners, and energies for my projects and passions. I want to be able to do it all! Alas, I know that can't be how it goes.

To stay motivated I've been trying to do little things: placing sticky note reminders that I am going to law school for my own satisfaction and not that of my family all around my apartment, buying myself awesome feminist law books to read, and touching base with people who have already gone through the process and survived. Only three months of LSAT studying, three months of applications, and three years of law school...it can't be as bad as I'm thinking it will be, can it?

Velvet SF - Queer Play Party

2011-07-05T12:32:00.000-07:00

I am joining forces with the amazing Ms. Bix and doing promotions for Velvet SF, the ONLY queer dance party in the Bay Area where you can do the dirty. Yes, finally a queer play party! And you know you should go and get involved because I only back projects I truly love <3

The next Velvet will be Friday July 22nd from 9 to 2 am!

Don't miss writer Allison Moon's pre-party workshop GIRL SEX 101 (8 to 9pm) and special performances by queer femme-inist CHLOE CAMILLA! DJ Rapid Fire (Stay Gold) will be spinning and Crashpad porn will be playing all night long!

For lovely ladies, transmen, fierce femmes, bois, genderqueer, badass butches, and intersex queers.

$20 at the door. BYOB.

Mission Control is community operated. For more details about their space and charter visit their website.

Want to get in free? Volunteer! Other questions? Contact me at velvetsfpromo@gmail.com for more details.

Out of the Bubble

2011-07-03T19:47:00.000-07:00

Nights out are usually spent dancing, drinking, dining, and gabbing with my sex-worker friends. With them I know I am in a safe space where it doesn't matter if I mix up real names with porn names, joke about the often hilarious things our patrons do, and slip in and out of our personal dialect. In this bubble, this glorious bubble I can only wish could expand to encompass everyone in my life, I don't have to guard myself from other's judging eyes and unapproving tongues, insatiable appetites for justifications and hurried exits. With them, with my community, I sometimes forget that the bubble exists at all, but when socializing with others I remain anxious and vigilant, even in the most relaxed settings.

Outside my bubble, though I will gladly charge the field in oral combat if I am attacked directly or see others assaulted by someone being ignorant just for the sake of being so, my first instinct is protectionism: to not bring focus to my work or goals unless I know it is socially safe to do so. When asked the standard "So, what do you do?" question I'll make things up, claiming to work in an office or some menial retail situation, foregoing the explanation of my pride in working for causes I care intimately about. I hunker down and build a wall, making necessary snap assumptions about the new acquaintances, relying on the fact I will probably never see them again, passively deciding not to make anyone, including myself, unnecessarily uncomfortable by the truth.

Wanting desperately to connect to another person, establish a new friendship, I'll test the waters by telling the truth: I dance naked and am the current lead madam of the Lusty Lady peepshow (among other things), I care passionately about sex-worker rights, and have every intention of dedicating my future career, whatever it may be, to establishing the legitimacy of sex-work as work socially and, specifically, under the law. The results are mixed. Sometimes I have been pleasantly surprised by acceptance and easy conversation. More often people do all the negative things I have come to expect, including the most recent reaction: "That is why you are dressed like THAT!"

(Dear reader: I was wearing a polka dot dress that nearly reached my knees and didn't even reveal an inch of cleavage-not a small feat with DD tits,-stockings, and tennis shoes. Please tell me what the hell that is supposed to mean.)

Occasionally I feel I bring these situations upon myself by choosing to do the work I do and choosing to talk about it, kicking myself for making things harder than they really need to be. I let myself be isolated by the stigmatization and lumped with the stereotypes, fearing the difficult futures naysayers believe I am headed towards. Thankfully these moments are few and far between, never lasting long, but they do happen, despite all my rallying and inspiring friends and co-workers. Someday I hope to live in a world where the secrecy and sensitivity won't be needed and the awkward, hurtful moments won't exist, but I fear that time won't be anytime soon.

Relationship Maps

2011-06-27T15:52:00.000-07:00

Immersed in the dating sea again for nearly two years one would think I'd know how to navigate, but sometimes I really don't feel like I do. Embarrassingly, I peruse the dating section at my local bookstore, but beyond the titles like "How To Date After Divorce" nothing really seems to acknowledge any of my "what's to be expected" dating questions (and even that one is a stretch.) Asides from pop culture, which obviously caters to traditional monogamous relationships, I have no real gauge for relationship landmarks and, more often than not, feel like I wander aimlessly through a course of mountains and mole-hills without ever knowing whats-what.

Pop culture has taught me the traditional relationship road map goes something like this: first date, second date, first kiss, DTR (defining the relationship aka deciding to stop seeing other people), first vacation, first "I love you's," meeting the parents, holidays together, a proposal leading to the final destination of a "happily ever after" filled with white tulle and children. Movies and TV shows play with these common themes (search Netflix for any romantic comedy and you will see what I mean), sometimes pushing some of the more taboo subjects (a couple flirting with each other's friends or a possible threesome, gasp!), but mostly parodying the mainstream landmarks, large and small, for the sake of extracting a stronger emotion from their audience. Although I've been an avid pop-culture consumer all of my life, those stronger reactions are usually lost on me.

Knowing that it is not necessary to have landmarks at all, I still fall into the routine of trying to figure out what counts given the number of X factors anyways. I attribute value to what other's may see as silly things: like the first use of a pet name, a key exchange, the first time more than one partner is in the same social space, and the location of my toothbrush (my rule of thumb is it doesn't hit the toothbrush holder until its been invited. Thank you TV sitcoms.) Perhaps small and insignificant they are all duly noted and filed away with other, more mainstream, moments of significance that have tugged on my heart strings to await even more unknown territory.

My maps (yes, multiple to accommodate different relationships) look more like connect-the-dots rather than the traditional course and none have a clear trajectory. While some of the traditional landmarks are similar to what I experience with people I am dating, others are totally off the grid, and some, meeting the parents as an example, I don't even know if they would be possibilities even if I wanted them to be. Given that these relationships are not bound to the rigors of an end goal of marriage and children their existence, purpose, and expectations are now free to change to match the personalities, logistics, and sentiments of those involved explicitly.

Rather than give me assistance in navigating my relationships, my landmarks tend to show me what I already know - that the wonderful happenstances with the people in my life must be viewed subjectively and cannot be taken for granted, there are lots of things other's may be seeing as mountain ranges that I may not have even noted, and landmarks are not static, gaining and losing significance as the rest of the map and relationship changes shape.

Updates

2011-06-13T12:01:00.001-07:00

I've been included in some fabulous writer's awesome work within the last month and I totally slacked on posting their links!

SF Guardian SexSF blogger Amber Schadewald dished out my secrets in her post Clean Secrets Revealed: The Lusty Ladies

My interview with scandelous sex blogger Fleur De Lis can be found here: Bottoms Up With Sandy Bottoms

Also!

I hereby swear to post my Lusty Lady availability weekly! Just in case anyone wants to get a little more up close and personal with me.

This week:

-Monday June, 13th starting at 830pm til close. Private Pleasures 11pm to 1245am.
-Wednesday June 15th Private Pleasures 9am to 1045am. Live Stage early afternoon.
-Sunday June 19th starting at 830pm til close. Private Pleasures 11pm to 1245am.

Toys, Toys, Toys!

2011-06-09T17:32:00.000-07:00

I have to say I don't use sex toys nearly as often as I would like to. Sure I whip out a select few of my work essentials to give naughty shows in the Private Pleasures booth at the Lusty Lady, but the toy chest general stays closed and tucked away at home. With enough plugs to dam up the Colorado River and vibrators that span the colors of the rainbow, I feel ashamed of my hoarding and lack of indulgence in their pleasure potential.

Fantasizing about expanding my toy collection may not be something I do all the time, but my addiction to pleasure products comes in third only behind dresses and lingerie (I know I'm such a girl!). Walking into a sex shop, Good Vibes being my candy shop of choice, my eyes widen and I can't help going about the floor ogling all the shiny new toys I haven't claimed as my own. While I try to make thoughtful shopping lists ahead of time, sticking to only the necessities (yes, a pink rechargeable Hitachi IS a necessity), sometimes I slip up, filling my basket with all kinds of "just in case" items and bringing them home only to place them next to their older, often forgotten, toy friends.

As much as I love my toy collection I just never seem to reach for them in the heat of the moment. Whether I am participating in a little solo play or play with others, when the dress comes off and the pants unzip I usually get so caught in the moment I forget that my bounty exists at all, only thinking of bringing out a treasured buzzing, rotating, or clamping item or two after the last ooh and ahhh. Sigh. All those beautiful objects going to waste...

Sometimes I think increasing their visibility might inspire more appearances, mounting a 'toy shelf' above the bed or leaving them in my overnight bag so they go where ever I go, but the thought of forgetting to put them away before having guests over to my apartment or accidentally spilling them on public transportation makes me think there must be another way. Less risky and more effective would be to simply tell my partners of my wishes and ask that they help incorporating my treasures into our already awesome sexy time.

Never Have I Ever

2011-05-22T22:56:00.000-07:00

My big project of the day...erotica! Not *quite* finished, but feeling the need to post the work in progress....

Ten fingers remained in the air: 7 for him, 3 for her. Sheepishly Dee sucks in his bottom lip while thinking up his next statement.

“Come on.” Emma groans in mock exasperation. “You’re such a baby. This should be easy!”

They sit across from each other, bare knees touching. The TV screen still playing the final scenes of 10 Things I Hate About You, muted and forgotten in the background. They’ve played this game before, but never just the two of them.

“Alright, never have I ever lived in a room painted yellow.” Dee announces with a triumphant smirk on his face, dark brown eyes glittering with the reflection of Heath Ledger’s image and pride.

Emma pouts, looking around her room, “Not fair!” She leans in closer to whisper in Dee’s ear, feigning modesty, “They’re supposed to be scandalous.”

With two fingers left Emma must think of a good one. She always loses. Her free hand twirls her long black hair as she sizes him up: tight white crew cut t-shirt, faded blue jeans sagging just enough to show the top of his royal blue boxers, shaggy dark hair covering his soft brow and startling stare. Oh gosh, that stare…

“I might be going out on a limb here, but never have I ever been fisted,” Emma says looking over at Dee expectantly. After a moment Dee’s ring finger disappears into the palm of his hand. “Oh really, sir!” Emma squeals in delight. “I was convinced I was the only slutty one.”

“Give me some credit, I’m not quite as inexperienced as you may think I am. Now its my turn.” This game has always been hard for Dee. Not because he has any shortage of things he hasn’t done like Emma, but because of how revealing it all is, telling everyone his most intimate chronicles through a showy finger display, deducing all his sexual encounters to a simple folded hand. The idea of being an exhibitionist certainly excited him, but he was usually too nervous to be so forward.

Though something about Emma made him somehow not care so much and when she was around he’d play the silly game. Emma was bold, sometimes even obtrusive, flaunting her femininity and sexual prowess to an extent none of their mutual friends would dare. Her dresses were always way too short and her tops way too low, revealing every prominent and not so prominent curve of her body. Feminist theory classes taught him not to objectify women as sexual objects, especially his friends, but sometimes he’d get wet just thinking about her creeping skirt and fleshy thigh.

“Erm, Dee?”

Dee’s head snapped up from where his eyes had been glued to the space between Emma’s crossed bare legs for God knows how long.

“I was just, uh, thinking of my next ‘never have I ever’,” Dee stammers, totally caught perving. He had planned to hit on Emma sometime in the near future, perhaps get up the courage to ask her out on a proper date, but this day was supposed to be platonic, a regular friend date like they had had a dozen times before.

“Right.”

“Really!”

Emma smiled. She knew what that look meant, having seen it flitter across Dee’s face on more than a couple occasions. Dee wanted her, that was plain as day. She also knew that Dee, timid as he is, would never act on. She had already decided she wanted to taste those sweet smiling lips and run her fingers through his unruly mop, to fuck him and show him how to loosen up. Now Emma knew she is going to fuck him. Today. Now.

“Alright, well then go ahead.”

“Never have I ever fisted.” Dee’s heart raced.

Their eyes locked and neither of them shifted. Clearly and sweetly Emma quips, “Come here.”

“Um, what?” Dee, taken aback, ran a thousand simultaneous thoughts: “She can’t be serious. Jesus, Emma’s so fucking pretty! I was being way too forward and now she wants to ‘process’ things before kicking me out of her house.”

She arches sideways, leaning over the edge of her bed pulling out gloves and lube. “I’m now down to one finger and I am going to lose this game. I like you and you like me. With your explicit permission I’d like to fuck you and perhaps make this game a bit more of a competition the next time.” Emma kisses Dee on the cheek. “Will you let me fuck you or what?”

Dee pushed forward, kissing Emma hard on the mouth. “Only if you let me fuck you first.”

Placing his hand on her delicate chest Dee shoves Emma back on the bed, running his hot, no longer so nervous, hands up the length of her left leg and up her skirt. Dee moves on top of her, forcing his knee between her legs, exposing her cream-colored panties. Their eyes meet for the first time in what feels like a century: hers filled with surprise and anticipation, his, a strength and greediness he forgot he possessed. Dee first peels off Emma’s top, unfastening her bra while eagerly kissing and nipping at her goose-fleshed neck. Emma moans. She should have known it was going to be this good – the quiet ones usually are.

Dee’s lips creep lower, between her breasts, under her ribcage, grazing the top of her skirt. He lifts Emma’s skirt, bunching the light blue fabric around her waist, pressing his face into her crotch. Rubbing her clothe-covered clit with his closed mouth he can feel how swollen she’s getting. He teases her with his nose, flicking the tip up and down her hidden slit, pressing the bridge into where she is starting to get wet.

Lifting herself into a sitting position under Dee Emma grabs his belt, releasing the clasp and unzipping his fly all in the same motion. Pulling on the sides of his jeans she asks, “Can we take these off?” Dee nods yes.

Emma wraps her hands around him, leaving little red scratch trails from her nails on his lower back. Looking up at him with a devious smile she throws his shirt up and over his head, ready to run her hands under his black binder to pull that off too. Grabbing hold of one of her wrists, Dee shakes his head from side to side, falling slowly on top of Emma as he says, “no, that stays on.”

Both of them breathe heavy. Dee leaning into Emma’s body, feels her soft skin under his. He pushes his hip into her mound, moving his pelvis into hers and rubbing his clit on her naked leg. Grinding harder, faster, as Emma’s breathing hastens and soft cries escape her lips. Without stopping Dee slips on a glove, rubs a handful of lube between his fingers and shoves his hands down the front of her panties, squeezing her clit between his fingers.

Looking into her face as she gyrates into is hand, her eyes closed, mouth open moaning and sighing, Dee can tell she’s ready for more. Emma’s eyes open and her sighs cease as he pulls off her soaking underwear. Gripping Emma’s hip in his bare hand he pulls her body closer towards his, slipping two fingers slowly into her expectant cunt. “Oh god,” Emma says, her eyes shutting once again.

Starting slow and shallow Dee fucks her, gaining speed and depth as her pussy relaxes and opens for him. He shoves in a third finger, watching her body arch to the added pressure. Dee knows he can’t rush it but he senses Emma can take it.

Slowing again Dee slips his pinkie finger in with the first three. Emma moans, but not out of protest. Her slick cunt is eager, hungry for his persistent hand. Dee pushes his hand deep, feeling her lips on his palm. He fucks her harder and deeper as he runs his tongue under her breast. “Rub your clit,” Dee demands as he reaches across the bed to grab the lube. “Don’t stop,” squirting a stream of slick liquid onto his fingers as they continue to pull in and out of Emma.

Pulling nearly all the way out and closing his fingers tighter together Dee adds his thumb, almost forgetting he’s never fisted before, he’s never fucked Emma before, knowing only that his body is reading hers and the story was a good one. Responding with an “oh, yes, oh please fuck me” Dee shoves his hand deeper, her pussy dripping, enveloping him with warmth. He fucks Emma faster, feeling her muscles start to contract, hearing her getting louder and louder, filling the little yellow room with screams and deep moans. “I want to feel you cum. I want to feel you cum on my hand.”

Emma’s eyes snap open and she clutches Dee to her chest, rubbing her clit fiercely as she rocks onto his hand. She moans louder yet and moves her hand away. She’s coming. She’s coming hard.

Stripper Trip

2011-05-15T12:11:00.000-07:00

Each time I sit to write about my stripper trip I get consumed by writing about the structure and the general stripper experience. I backspace, erasing paragraph after paragraph of information because volumes already exist about the subject. What I really want to write about, what I actually NEED to write about, is how I fit into the new world. And yes, I am referring to the strip club as a new world since it came with an entirely new set of laws: of motion, attraction, exponents etc that don't exist in the world I'm used to.

I went naive. Sure I've read a mountain of literature on the subject of stripping, partake in other forms of sex-work, and had an excellent stripper mama at my side, but really, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. And really, I was getting myself 'into' it. For seven days Crush and I worked the club, leaving only to eat fast food and sleep. I can't quite say I'm a veteran stripper (these ol' knees aren't quite creaky enough), but I think I interacted with pretty much every kind of patron, manager, and dancer there is, which in one compacted week, is a whole hell of a lot.

On stage at the Lusty Lady peepshow we don't have stripping routines. We might take off a superfluous item of clothing or two but we are essentially naked from the time we start our shifts to the end, continuing our swaying and sache-ing, booty-bumping and grinding from start to finish, pausing only when all the windows are closed and we know no one is looking. At the club everyone is watching like a hawk and I had to learn to walk, talk, and dance sexy and put together from the time I walk into the pit of club until the time I leave, hours later. Most of the time I didn't even try to do the sexy bit, considering I had to incorporate my obvious Bambi standing and near-tumbles, sticking to toothy grins, talking up my newness and my seemingly alien interests and pursuits, and giving more in my lapdances through eye contact and giggling than all the headstands and crotch-to-face splits other girls chose to give.

I'm not much of a hustler. Half the time patrons threw money at me just because I told them as much, choosing to reward my easy dialogue and willingness to just take it all in. Granted, that too is a role that I learned to manipulate to some extent, but overall just being myself seemed to be what it took to pay my expenses and then some. I learned, not so quickly, that being honest and real left me vulnerable to making some real and occasionally intense connections I still don't know what to do with. Making friends with the awkward kid whose friends always left him for dates, experiencing deep seated projections from a solo-woman patron (the only one I met and whom none of the dancers aside from Crush and myself would approach) who wanted to take me home and who I wanted to release wild into San Francisco kink culture, guiltily taking wads of cash and poetic compliments from a hard working Navajo family man who was forced by his wife to go release some steam (though probably not their savings.) After receiving a totally rad bracelet off the wrist of a particularly soulful individual I swore I needed no more mementos from my trip.

While I know I will go back to the club again I can't imagine myself stripping full time. Without the safe barriers of the glass its harder to keep up the fantasy, the always on, always open for business attitude. Though the naivety is less of a hindrance I'm afraid of what may result of my overwhelming openness. Crush taught me to lie about just about everything: my age, my hometown, what I do for work, why I was in town, my sexual fluidity, politics etc. Some things I fudged as safety precautions, but I could not play a different person. I am what I am and I am thankful to those I connected with who were appreciative of that, however there is lots of room to develop the bitter stripper stereotype when everyone you talk to for hours and hours measures your worth fiscally, even if they are checking out the insides in addition to the exterior. I love sex-work and I don't want to burnout just yet.

To Do List:

2011-05-11T11:39:00.000-07:00

- make more clips4sale videos
- finish writing a dirty story
- find songs and work on burlesque act (puppets, crotch, flower hat...)
- get femme parties going
- finish costume for Beer Circus
- set my rat frienemies free
- work on social networking site
- buy more panties
- raise $2000 for Lusty PRIDE float
- do more porn
- crack open the LSAT prep books
- invest in pink typewriter
- organize my boxes of fabric and costumes
- start Queer Pitch
- help more with Velvet
- volunteer somewhere

What I am

2011-05-06T15:22:00.000-07:00

I'm the kind of girl that wears my skirts way too high
and my necklines way too low
I wear pink and paisley like I'm off to church
(or getting off at church?)
I wear red lipstick on my lips, my teeth, and sometimes on your cock
I wear high heels for the sound
and boots just to shake, rattle, and roll

I'm the kind of girl who can use a hammer
but gets hot and bothered watching you do it for me
I can play demure or stoic or coy
(read: emphasis on 'play')
I can ride in a car backwards, on curvy roads, with my head in a book
I can do this while not getting motion sickness
and this is kinda the story of my life

I'm the kind of girl that gets caught with my eyes closed
often with my pants down and the flash still burning
I get caught up, tangled in my calendar
(desperately trying to schedule some spontaneity)
I get torn up by the little things, worn out by the big
I get goose flesh fingering textured fabric
and ache for clean cool sheets and soft arms

I'm the kind of girl you can take home to mom
as long as she won't be angry with your choice of girl
You can bring me flowers and other pretty things
(Ill only bemoan my disempowerment a little)
You can fuel my obsessions with what was, what is, what can be
You can give me space to be publicly inappropriate
and room to be someone different tomorrow

"No Rest for the Wicked"

2011-04-23T23:51:00.000-07:00

Before leaving for Stripper Paradise I had every intention of writing like mad, sharing story after story about my first experiences in a real strip club. Alas, after working 8+ hour shifts (by choice), leaving in the evening tired, smelly, hungry, both myself and Crush desperately needing to vent to each other about the day's profits and losses, endearing patrons and creeps, and wanting to do nothing more than take a hot bath to sooth our swollen knees and overstimulated minds, I just couldn't physically do it.

Today was my least profitable, least memorable, shortest, and last day in the New Mexican strip club. The game is now old hat, today a blur of yays and nays, grinding and whining, and, surprisingly, I was even approached by a fresh dancer for the strip club low-down. I have certainly learned a lot in the last 7 days, for which I must forever be thankful to my travel companion Crush and my incredible good luck. I boarded a plane, landing in a new city without a money-making back-up plan and hoping to get hired at my audition, going all or nothing.

After a few days of recovery and relaxation I will write more about what I have seen, felt, heard, and inferred within the four dark walls of the typical Southwestern club, but I promise it will take some time. I am exhausted both physically and emotionally, battered and bolstered in ways I never thought possible and now it is time to fly back to my regular crazy life and hope to find some time to process everything I have experienced. As I heard Cage The Elephant sing a thousands times over the past week, "there ain't no rest for the wicked."

Relationship By Choice

2011-04-15T16:44:00.000-07:00

For all of you who know me in real life I'm really not into the "hippy-dippy infinite love and world peace for all" zeitgeist, but this is one warm and fuzzy concept I do dig.

Sometimes I think people forget that their commitment to their relationships is a choice. Instigating a relationship does not mean that there is no room for change in its form or appearance and if the relationship no longer works for either parties, whether it be romantic or platonic (and I would even extend this to familial relationships as well but obviously there are other layers going on there too), they have the choice to dissolve the connection. I am thankful to have met and made connections with many amazing people, to whom I make a conscious effort to acknowledge their graciousness in choosing me to be their partner, lover, or friend, and I hope they do the same for me.

Prior to becoming polyamorous (about this time last year actually!) this concept hadn't even crossed my mind. My partner and I had been together since we were 14 and we both assumed that's how it was and would always be. We locked ourselves into routines, patterns of communication, and ultimatums based upon the "fact" that we had certainly made the choice to get together in the first place, but we never thought of our relationships continuation and the model we followed to be anything more. As I've become more conscious of my own relationships I can't help but notice how other's treat theirs as static, immovable, unquestionable, unbending and overwhelmingly above their own personal growth and independence.

While the human capacity for healthy and loving connections may or may not have a ceiling, we certainly do have logistical limits like time. As a busy woman I have to budget my schedule day-by-day between work, family, friends, and my more intimate relations. I treat my time as precious, which it is as is yours, and only give it to people and projects that I feel are deserving of it and have learned to appropriately and unselfishly drop hindering projects and people out of my budgeting process. Assuming that other's do this at least to some extent I treat other's allowance of their time to me as a special connection, one that they consciously chose, as I have.

Made of Words Questionnaire!

2011-04-07T22:54:00.000-07:00

*Spank Spank* Bad Sandy!

I've been meaning to post a link to the questionnaire I filled out for Ali Oh's amazing blog Made of Words! Queer and sex-positivity focused, her blog is super sexy and rad just like her.

Made of Words!

If smarts aren't enough to entice you I promise she's also included a super scandalous photo of model Kitty McMuffin and I.

Going Home

2011-04-06T10:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get hungry for "home." Sometimes I get so starved for it that I make believe one exists and I head back to my East Bay home town to visit my family. In my absence my brain likes to create this fictitious place. A place of structure, free and unconditional love, mutual understanding, real "mom" and "dad" relationships that I truly forget never existed in my lifetime.

Weeks away always diminish the reality, which I have to admit isn't all bad or terrible and, considering the extreme conditions other people live in, maybe I shouldn't complain. Time makes me forget the horrible ways my mom and step-dad communicate, the mental hell my mom is experiencing and refusing help for, my brother's obvious need for positive encouragement and stability, their isolation from one another, their continued cohabitation in a house that is no longer a home if it ever was one. They've even given away the dining room table in the last few months.

Driving to my parent's house I pass my old high school (my parent's high school too) where my brother now goes. I pass by restaurants I used to frequent, stores I used to buy school clothes at, hills I used to sit on with friends watching the happenings of the suburb below. When I drive by these things I can't be anything but thankful to be out of this place, but I often feel guilty leaving my parent's house the way it is - empty, loveless, charged. I know there is absolutely nothing I can do about it, but sometimes I get so hungry, so ravenous, that I make believe there once was something palatable.

Hollie Stevens-Breast Cancer Support!

2011-03-28T10:48:00.000-07:00

My co-worker Hollie Stevens is kinda amazing. A young porn star, writer, artist, and a kick-boxer among many other things, Hollie is subverted yet able to blend herself into the mainstream and I'm always fascinated by her stories of personal and professional trysts. When I first heard through the grapevine she was making appointments for a growing lump in her breast a couple months ago I couldn't believe that cancer could even be an option given her age and blonde-goddess appeal, but alas, the initial appointment turned into many and breast cancer was finally diagnosed.

As of now I don't know what treatment is going to look like for Hollie Stevens or how much treatment will affect her ability to work. With her permission I am posting links to her blog, so friends and fans can keep themselves updated and send her love directly. I intended to also post a link to Hollie's Breast Cancer Fund, but blogspot won't let me paste the long link into this post (stupid blogspot!): if you go to her blog page all it takes is a simple click to get to her fund. We all know health care is expensive even for not so involved maladies and ailments so PLEASE support -- even small donations add up and can pay for prescriptions, co-payments etc!

Heading to Stripper Paradise

2011-03-19T12:21:00.000-07:00

I come from a land of terrible strip clubs, where the management is sketchy, security is poor, dancer's are competitive and cut-throat, customers are belligerent, prone to non consensual acts, and stingy, and the performers are forced to pay incredibly high stage fees to come to work. And these days many dancers are walking away after working grueling 8 hour shifts, having been payed less that San Francisco minimum wage for their efforts. I've always wanted to work in a strip club, participating in the hustle and bustle of a dark mirrored space vibrating with music and anticipation, playing little games of flirt and tease with the patrons, sharing secrets with fellow dancers and gossiping with bouncers, essentially escaping into a world unknown, but the horror stories about SF clubs have kept me back.

Crush, a veteran stripper of 13 years and co-worker at the Lusty Lady, is fed up with the other clubs in SF. Needing to find an additional source of income to pay for her expensive SF apartment (low-income housing compared to the rest of the city) and vet bills (she's a hopeless lover of all things fluffy) Crush decided to branch out of state, heading to what she has named "stripper paradise." (For her sake I will leave this haven unnamed.) Having seen and lived it all in the industry Crush has become a sort of guru to us less experienced dancers and recommended that this would be a great place for me to start.

In the American south-west Crush found a land of no stage fees, friendly and supportive dancers, trusting and trustworthy management, great DJs, and a never ending flow of patrons and cash. She flew out of SFO, landing in her strange new city, making all of her expenses for the week of her trip back the same night. In SF clubs the performers must practically pull teeth to get a lap-dance, often having to at least promise the patron something extra since other dancers actually are performing them in the same club for the same price, which to is not to say there is anything wrong with more explicit acts but when they are done out of desperation and not purely conscious choice there is. In Crush's new club most of the women are able to live off working the day shift (read: less customers, more dancers on the floor, impossible to do anywhere else), leaving busy nights and weekends actually short of dancers and overflowing with men (and Crush adds a few butch women regulars as well, yum) patiently waiting to have their dance.

No hustling needed!

Given my crazy hours madaming and other responsibilities I don't know when I'll be able to make the pilgrimage with her, but I'm promising myself I will. I want to come out of the box, scantily clad, walking the floor in my 6 inch platforms making some real cash (ahem, untaxed and ready to go towards some pre-law school traveling) and doing things I never could prove I could do.

The Lusty Lady Makes Me Think of...

2011-03-11T17:12:00.000-08:00

1. sexy, smart ladies. Never before have I surrounded myself by so many beautiful, level-headed, intelligent chicks.

2. semen. Really.

3. the most awkward song transitions. Yes, we dance sexy to the Ghost Busters theme, Frank Sinatra, Lil' Kim, and Black Sabbath back-to-back.

4. porn. I swear there is at least one dancer on stage at a time that has done some sort of porn.

5. forced family gatherings. Sometimes our meetings can turn out like big, chaotic family Thanksgivings: sibling rivalry, crazy uncle drunkenly rambling, grandma giving wisdom to the younger generations ... but we all respect each other all the same.

6. whack-a-mole. Friday and Saturday nights, when North Beach gets drunk and rowdy, windows pop up and down, patrons switch windows, and occasionally cause mayhem and we get to try to cover them all.

...this list is never ending. Have anything to add?

Sex-Worker Social Networking

2011-03-07T13:06:00.000-08:00

Working in the sex-industry I hear time and again people expressing a desire for some sort of fellowship with other sex-workers for both professional insight and camaraderie. This kind of work can be isolating, with fear of exposure and prejudice keeping many from sharing major parts of their life from even their closest friends and family. Many, like myself and others at the Lusty Lady, create second social networking profiles on websites like facebook and twitter to connect with the outside world and other sex-workers, however the hypersexualization understandably overshadows the persons deeper persona and many are ever mindful of posting too true information, timid of giving patrons too much.

So what about our own social networking site?

While there are a plethora of sex-worker advocacy specialty groups (COYOTE, St. James Infirmary, BAYSWAN etc), they are often disjointed and there is absolutely nothing in terms of mutual social support. The site would allow members (who would be screened for authenticity) to create profiles revealing as little or as much true information about themselves as they would like without fear of discrimination, persecution, unwanted sexual advancements, exposure etc, form groups based around background, interests, and experiences, promote events (social, activist, kink etc), start discussions on public forums, and have private chats with each other.

I believe that having a social networking site like this would build unity in the local sex-worker community across the various profession, age, sexual identity, gender, and race spectrums and will be a valid and useful tool in forming and boosting social and personal identity, increasing sex-worker companionship and support, and holding space for sex-worker activist groups and resources.

Recently speaking with one of the leaders of SWOP (Sex Worker Outreach Project) Bay Area chapter I found that once upon a time there once was a social networking site catering to SWOP members on a national level. While I believe their attempts at a national unity are ambitious and awe inspiring I feel like the only way to successfully build such an intricate forum is to go another route, basing the membership first on location, as opposed to whether or not the person is affiliated with that specific group (whose work or ideals an individual may not claim), gender, or type of sex-work (like another national site does), prompting people to form tangible and lasting connections in a more grassroots way.

Within the nest couple of weeks I will be meeting up with the Bay Area SWOP membership again soon and will start the process of applying for grants.

Anyone with any interest, fears, advice, or questions please message me! All of our voices are important.

Questions

2011-03-06T18:28:00.000-08:00

These are the things that keep me up at night, that keep my head spinning, my eye twitching, and knees shaking. Sometimes I feel so sure of myself, of my independence, of my direction, of my sensibility, while other times I feel nothing more than a puddle of emotions stirred into an unrecognizable concoction I have to call 'self.'

Who the hell am I? Where do I get off being a goody goody know-it-all? Can I really make a difference? Is what I call a difference actually doing anything in the world? Am I going to be like this forever? Do I WANT to be like this forever? What am I sexually? Queer, lesbian, or some uncategorized creature that changes its mind? Why am I attracted to the people I'm attracted to? Why do I get so hung up over never having to "come out" about my sexuality to my family? Why is laying out everything about myself at Thanksgiving or some other stereotypical "coming out" family get together so appealing? Will I want or would it be OK to bring multiple partners to family gatherings? Is it possible to love more than one person equally? Do age differences really matter ever? Do I want to be married? What are Boyfriend and I going to do with the ring he bought me when we were 19? How old will I be when I decide I want to "settle down"? Will I ever want to? Will I ever want biological children of my own? Am I going to end up being sterile because of my IUD? How does one force others to conceptualize things as I do? Am I too simplistic? How the hell am I a sex-worker and sex party attendee and STILL such a prude? Why am I so sensitive to crude jokes? Why can I not make a decent mixed cd? How do I keep from losing all of my possessions in a house fire? (I'm petrified of house fires) Can I have a tortoise and a cat? How do I build a meaningful and intentional community where a half-assed one already exists? I'm not an artist, can I ever be? How do I tell my grandma I'm not ready for law school? Will I lose every future opportunity to do so if I do? Why does kissing you give me so many butterflies? When can I go on a REAL vacation (and how can I afford it)? I am a 'processing' monster, why am I refusing to process certain things? How can I make sure my needs and desires aren't lost given my passivity in friendships and intimate relationships?

Porn Review!

2011-03-03T15:51:00.000-08:00

Gosh, I am such a slacker sometimes! I've been meaning to share the link for Ali Oh's review of the Crash Pad scene Siouxsie and I did early last month. To be quite honest Ms Oh's comments were exactly what we were hoping for: an appreciation of the appearance of two queer femmes getting down and dirty in queer porn (and I might add in the Bay Area queer scene in general, actually), which is quite masculine-centric. (More thoughts on that at another time)

Anyways, please read Ali Oh's blog Made of Words and let me know what you think!

"Love Story"

2011-03-01T12:52:00.000-08:00

Despite believing whole-heartely that polyamory is in fact the ideal relationship model for myself and for most people I know, I still can't believe how much I get sucked into loving cheesy "happily-ever-after" books and movies and, more embarrassingly, even finding myself having visceral reactions to the lyrics, sobbing while listening to The Cure's "Love Song," Taylor Swift's "Love Story," or Kate Nash's "The Nicest Thing." Though I swear the opportunity for the latter only occurs once a month.

I can appreciate and relate to love themes in mainstream media, the existence of deep emotional all-encompassing bonds with other human beings, the intoxication of pursuit and being pursued, reeling over first kisses and first "I love you's," and the desire to intimately share my life over space and time, but not so much the repeated "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in baby carriage" stereotype that's crammed down my throat. I believe love can happen more than once, at different times with different people in any range of intensity or intention. Marriage and children are options, not mandatory cultural ritual. I wish, almost more than anything, that these ideas were co-opted more in our Western society, but alas, they are not.

My inclination to listen to Rihanna's "Only Girl in the World" on repeat goes against practically everything I stand for in relationships, but I eat it up. I can relate to the lyrics of wanting to be the most important person in the world for someone else, yearning to be recognized as inspiring the discovery of untapped pools of feelings and characteristic's that my partner hasn't yet reached, but her lyrics aren't followed with "And its ok if she is the only girl in the world tomorrow."

SF Under 40 Poly Cafe Social

2011-02-18T11:03:00.000-08:00

When my partner and I first opened our relationship we knew the only way we could do so comfortably would be to surround ourselves with accepting sex-positive kinky polyamorous folk. Starting to indulge in local polyamory events and munches we quickly discovered that we were usually the youngest of the bunch (by a couple decades) and, although we can communicate freely and with others outside our generation, it could certainly be isolating and intimidating for such newbs. On the verge of giving up (really), we stumbled upon Pepper Mint and Jen's SF Under 40 Poly Cafe Social, a small ever changing group whose purpose is none other than to give young poly (or poly curious) people a comfortable space to socialize with each other.

*sigh* How perfect.

A year later I am still attending the monthly cafe social, gaining professional and personal contacts, forming friendships, and allowing myself to be immersed, if even for a short time once a month, in an environment unquestioning of my inter-relationship intentions. Having started this group a few years ago and moving on to larger and more time consuming events, Pepper asked me if I would be interested in eventually taking over the group, to which I responded a prompt "Of Course!"

At first I was unsure about posting any information about the group through my Sandy Bottoms persona, afraid that the over-sexualized figure would obscure my real self and intentions, however having more connections through Sandy and no major issues with persona confusion in the past I think those fears can be put in the past.

To all you non-monogomous young Bay Areans looking for a laid back and safe space to socialize with others just like you consider this an open invitation to San Francisco's only Under 40 Poly Cafe munch occurring every 3rd Monday from 7 to 10 pm at the one a only Wicked Grounds!

Next one:

What: SF Under 40 Poly Cafe Social

Who: You! Poly or non-monogomous (curious, new, experienced) people under age 40. 40-and-over partners and lovers of people under 40 are also welcome, though we ask that you attend the same night as your partner.

When: Monday February 21, 2011 at 7pm (Every 3rd Monday) Feel free to stay the entire time or stop by briefly.

Where: Wicked Grounds Coffeehouse
289 8th St., San Francisco, CA 94103

No dress code or cost though we ask that everyone attending purchase something to support our friends and supporters at Wicked Grounds.

Thoughts/Wants/Wishes/Goals/Desires/Musings/Hopes for the next year

2011-02-12T02:48:00.000-08:00

-write a book
-network more for myself and community
-love unconditionally
-be loved unconditionally
-do yoga once a week
-be a good Madam
-process before I act
-receive a love letter (perhaps write one too)
-light more candles
-go on more road trips
-be a muse
-find the muse within myself
-pimp out my tortoise's habitat
-learn to sew a dress (a decent one!)
-be more patient
-expect to be treated with respect and intention
-purchase and use a typewriter (a fancy pink one would be nice...)
-be more thoughtful and spontaneous
-come out to more family members
-organize my closet
-adopt a fuzzy animal (conditional upon organizing the closet so says Boyfriend)
-eat more organic produce
-be completely naked on stage more often

Remembering to Breathe

2011-02-09T14:52:00.000-08:00

One month ago I was hired by the the Lusty Lady to be the new Lead Madam and have been busy in training ever since. Despite working at a peepshow this position is not unlike any other "manager" position, though perhaps even a bit more important to our cooperative business model than that of the general hierarchical administrative heads of others. Although I am hired to do a job separate from the dancers I am still part of the whole and my tasks not only effect everyone around me but myself as an individual dancer as well.

Aside from gaining a fairytale new title (yes, madams and mistresses are always included in my fairy tales) I now have even more responsibility at my beloved place of business. With that responsibility, which I already know will be weighty and rough, comes the opportunity to make my own lasting impact on the place that I consider to have been my gateway into another world; a world that I had only dreamed of being about to peek into a year and a half ago. A world of community, safety, acknowledgment, and aspirations.

Blah, blah, blah followed by an idealistic statement or two....

Although I am fully enthralled at the prospect of having a positive lasting impact at the Lusty Lady and know, for whatever reason, that I have many of the characteristics that build a strong administrator I am scared. Please read, I am not scared of the tasks, of not being liked, or of the unimagined potential burdens, but of losing myself in the job itself, foregoing my "me time" to catch up on extra work or making up for lost time with loved ones.

So I'm starting yoga. Yup, hippy-dippy yuppie bendy breathing practices that only I get to go to once a week for an hour and a half. No friends, no work phone, no shoes even, just movement and reflection on my body for nobody else's pleasure but my own. While yoga is a physical action that I project as imbibing my new "me time" the mantras are reminders I must give myself over and over everyday.

"Remember to breathe."

If I forget to breathe in this moment I can't help myself, I can't work, I can't love or communicate with others, I can't build foundations for any sort of momentous future....

Crash Pad Shoot!

2011-01-17T17:39:00.000-08:00

I arrive at the SF location 10 minutes early of course. Apparently the clock on my phone is 10 minutes ahead and I'm more or less early to everything anyways, so I get to the Crash Pad shoot with more than enough time to take in my new surroundings, learn the names of the people filming, and finish getting myself ready. Its early in the morning (OK, only a little before 10 am-an ungodly hour for a stripper) and usually not my sexy time, but I'm so incredibly stoked to be participating in the shoot.

Rosebud Siouxsie, my friend and scene partner, arrives shortly after and we briefly run through how we want to look in the scene and the actions. We are a ridiculous pair in general and thrown into this even more ridiculous surreal experience of getting paid to dress up and fuck just exasperates these qualities. The dressing area is a fury of tutus and grannie sweaters, red and pink lipstick, dildos, and stockings, the perfect setting to decide that in this scene we are going to mimic the good girl/bad girl version of each other. Both being curvy Jewish white girls with dark hair and bangs this isn't too much of a leap.

"Is the rosary too much?" Siouxsie asks at one point, to which I reply yes. "Then its staying on."

Donned in bows, pink tutu, and braces I fill the role of the good girl blindfolded and led unknowingly into a bedroom by my bad girl doppelganger, presumably to be taught how to be like her. Ordering me to the bed the scene begins, with me being a rather silent and lost bottom, a phenomenon I hadn't expected to occur. Don't get me wrong the scene was hot and my co-star even hotter, but I can't act to save my own life, at least not in this role.

Thankfully we had planned on switching roles halfway through the shoot, conspiring that my character would teach Siouxsie a thing or two after my initial corruption. THIS toppy (yes, I'm creating an adjective here) and dominant persona just appeared out of nowhere and I somehow ended up being even meaner and domineering than her bad girl persona, mimicking and making fun of her noises, telling her to gag on her dildo, and ....well, the rest you'll just have to see.

After finishing the scene we proceeded to gossip and giggle like little girls, completely baffling the amazing film crew, somehow not even blinking at the explicit actions we just performed or the unusual environment. Crash Pad always conducts a follow up interview with the performers, asking various questions regarding how we feel post shoot, why we chose to do porn, and finally, how do we know each other.

"Well, Sandy technically is my boss," replies Siouxsie, forcing all three filmmaker's jaws to drop as we again burst into a fit of giggles.

This being my first porn shoot I don't have much of anything to compare this experience with but I know I've stumbled across something unique and different with Pink and White Productions. They are made up of truly sex-positive, radical, and friendly beings who can recognize whats hot, regardless of the normative, and capture it in a way mainstream porn hasn't come near to breaching. Given the chance I would work with them again and again, no regrets.

Crash Pad

2011-01-08T14:59:00.000-08:00

Somewhere in the archives of my blog I mentioned the desire to shoot with Pink and White Productions for their Crash Pad Series, a queer-alt porn series that shines the spotlight on hot and steamy (steamy being their word of choice that I can't help repeating) gender fluid and sexually diverse individuals with the intention of capturing real passion. While patience isn't always one of my strengths, in this case it has finally paid off and I will be shooting my very first scene for them with my good friend, fellow Lusty, and porn star, Rosebud Siouxsie. I'd would have really liked to have typed the above bit of this entry in annoying bold capital letters to emphasize my excitement...but I didn't.

Some have warned me against doing anything more in the adult entertainment business for fear that my involvement may hinder a future in law and while I appreciate their care and concern I am holding no reservations. Not only do I aspire to change our social zeitgeist through amendments made to our legal system to legitimate sex-work as work I plan on leading by example. If I am not accepted into a law school or professional facility based upon work I have done in the past then I have additional fuel in my fire and even more evidence for why the social temperament needs to be drastically altered.

If you'd like to peruse the wonderfully unique and progressive Crash Pad Series or keep an eye out for my future clips check out the Crash Pad Series website.

Out-Perving the Perverts

2011-01-04T17:52:00.000-08:00

I know it goes beyond my better judgment but sometimes I just can't help letting some of my true kinky and subversive colors show to some of our patrons, especially in Private Pleasures. Pants down and eager for fantasy fulfillment the men regularly ask me what I am into sexually. On the surface this may appear to be a inclusive and inviting question, showing that this experience is supposed to be intimate and fun for both of us. However, one must never be fooled.

What they REALLY want to hear are a few scripted and predicted scenarios:

"Mmmm I like to fuck girls and boys. I bet you'd like to see me grab a hottie from stage and show you how wet we can get..."

or

"I like big hard cocks buried deep in my little slit from behind. Just like this...want to see?"

Moments later the overstimulated gentleman's trigger will go off and he won't think a millisecond more about my person or sexual desires. Though this phenomenon is totally legitimate and, really, expected behavior, sometimes my inner rebel, probably leftover from my soapbox hollering punk days, has to push the limits.

A couple of times I've started out slow, following their lead with a line that could be out of a cheesy porn magazine that is sure to get their juices flowing then inserting more provocative statements as I go alluding to me liking to be tied up, hit, suffocated, and bruised, watching boys fuck each other, or being a tranny chaser. Any one of these topics almost always result in a befuddled expression on the poor blokes face and an obvious decrease in blood pressure.

Alas I never like to disappoint or rob my faithful visitors of a hot and steamy fantasy session so after I've finished my experiment I immediately jump back into my mainstream porno suit and finish them off with more of the softcore phrases they like. While the motive for such behavior is entirely selfish, I wouldn't consider it to be unkind, and, while this may be a stretch, I hope that my poking and prodding might help open up some of them to some new possibilities.

Building a Library

2011-01-03T18:16:00.000-08:00

In addition to fiercely racing through college textbooks and LSAT study guides, this past year I spent a lot of time perusing books, essays, and articles written and collected by sex-workers of all types. While I certainly have not liked everything I have come across I do believe seeing the various perspectives of performers, escorts, patrons, Johns, and those who abstain to be valuable to my own ideological and academic development. One of my current projects at the SF Lusty Lady peepshow is to turn our current library (read: three small shelves of feminist and sex-positive literature mixed with old and unwanted textbooks and more vegan cookbooks than anyone could possibly ever need) into an actual resource center and archive for sex-business related content and its various offshoots.

To start this project I asked one of our wonderful Support Staff members to build a larger shelving system which will now be housed in a common area and accessible to all members of the co-op at all times, hoping that the now nearly empty shelves will be filled with all kinds of interesting and prompting entities. Posting a call for books in the dressing room has brought in a handful of new additions from our current dancers but its obvious this goal won't be met by ourselves.

If you have the means and the will you can help build the Lusty Library by dropping off or sending any appropriate books to the Lusty Lady SF itself (please make note of their intended purpose when doing so) OR checking out the Amazon Wishlist.

December

2010-12-19T17:05:00.000-08:00

Whoa.

Somehow this December has flown by with me hardly having a chance to breathe it all in let alone process and reflect. Its been exhilarating yet exhausting and I pinkie promise myself (and whoever else reads this!) that I am going to trudge through the half dozen entry introductions properly sometime in the near future. Granted this month is not quite over and there is still a momentous amount of excitement to get to yet with the holidays, my birthday, and important work deadlines fast approaching, but I will not let myself get sucked away from recording any longer.

Alright, here I go; inhaling, soaking up the sensations, and letting it linger over me in only the good ways. I am sure whatever else is not going to come out in any chronological order, please just bear with me.

LL Kinky KISS-MASS

2010-12-06T15:27:00.000-08:00

In an effort to raise money for much needed repairs, renovations, and novelties the Lusty Lady hosts a scandalous holiday party at an outside location where patrons, fans, and passersby can get up close and personal with their favorite ladies. Emceed by Kingfish of Hubba Hubba Revue and headlined by DESTROYER (KISS coverband), The Minks (all girl Kinks coverband), Horror X, and Trixxie Carr on the mainstage the kinky KISS-MASS holiday party will be held at the DNA Lounge this coming Friday the December 10th from 9 to 2 am.

Unlike other work holiday functions this party offers Star of David pastied nips, foot worship and private dances, raffle prizes from some of SF's kinkiest and sex-positive sources, naughty elf burlesque, and even a donkey show amongst the tinsel, carols, and pink Christmas trees. While I haven't yet decided if I will be offering any private sessions (though perhaps may be convinced if Im asked real nice) you may spot me getting naughty with Siouxsie Q in the kissing booth and triapsing around the main floor and the upstairs VIP area with raffle tickets to sell all night long.

Booth Musings

2010-11-30T09:10:00.000-08:00

Its this time of year, between Thanksgiving and New Years, that things really start slowing down in the peepshow, and really, North Beach as a whole. With patron's superfluous money being diverted towards gifts, travel expenses, and holiday dinners and time monopolized by the need to work overtime to make up the difference, the Lusty Lady has been downright dead. While this *ouch* hurts all of our paychecks, I have been feeling particularly lonely in Private Pleasures as of late, but have been trying to find ways to keep myself occupied.

Sitting in an aquarium at the end of a chilly hallway left to my own devices, pining to be off and doing something constructive or arty (or even pointless and silly), I started to write down a little bit of information about some of my booth patrons. Don't worry lads and lasses I pinkie promise I will refrain from sharing this information publicly for I often feel like I'm retaining privileged knowledge of individuals I'm not morally or legally obligated to share, like a therapist or religious figure perhaps. However, it has been suggested they would make an interesting Edward Gorey style alphabet book:

A is for Adolf who loves to show his SS tattoo's to me.

B is for Brian who likes to be assaulted by bears.

C is for Clyde who pretends to lick and suck my toes.

D is for David who just goes and goes and goes...

Paired with some silly, and maybe explicit, black and white sketches I think this might make a very unique little pocket book gift...

....or maybe not.

Giving Thanks

2010-11-25T22:21:00.001-08:00

In addition to good health and stability I have much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving day, being especially blessed with the presence of some amazingly beautiful creatures whom I can call friends and companions. While it is easy to get sucked into the family dramas and annual holiday suckery, a pitfall I too ended up focusing on all too much while being stuck in the mandatory holiday rounds with antagonistic and judgemental family members, it is important to remind myself of the truly positive experiences and people I have been touched by and learned from.

Thanks to all of you who have helped to bring me out of my shell, however uncomfortable and jarring the experience may have been. Thanks to friends and family that have given their unconditional love and support to my life choices, realizing I don't lead the most conventional life your welcoming ears and shoulders are worth all that much more. I thank everyone that has been, is, and may be part of my continuing journey of self-discovery, self-love, and romping through this world.

dudeguymanman

2010-11-22T19:55:00.000-08:00

After having had some complete dating failures with women I have joined the okcupid.com bandwagon at last. In an effort to dissuade men-folk from sending me messages (really, I have nothing against you guys! I just have my fill at the moment and don't want to waste anyones time) I have explicitly asked them NOT to message me right at the very top of my page. Despite my "looking for" section listing trans, boi, and girlies specifically I still have had 28 messages from men, single and strictly monogamous to boot, within 48 hours.

While I checked them all one by one into the trash file I did pause to read two of them. The first, from a polyamorous hetero-flexible man in a long-term partnership who thought he found a creative loophole in my declaration that men need not apply, managing to glean a chuckle out of me before finally hitting the delete button. My most recent one has left me less than amused, coming from someone with the username dudeguymanman.

This one I didn't even need to open. I mean, really?

I know I know I know it has only been a couple of days but I am seriously starting to doubt that I am going to have the patience for this site despite other's rave reviews. Anyone have any successful secrets they would like to share?

le sigh....

My Week, Every Week

2010-11-17T19:23:00.000-08:00

Detecting the wear and tear work has done on body and mind, loved ones have recently approached me with concern, asking me just how much I work at the Lusty Lady. Since it was suggested I write out my duties for my own reflection, I have decided to share it with you:

20+ = the number of hours onstage or in PP

3 = for writing and reciting the hotline schedule at 3:00 am for a week at least once a month

10+ = for being a Junior Madam: making the schedule, checking in with dancers, and office work

7+ = if I happen to have the on-call phone

3 = for assistant PR: working on the website, collaborating for fliers, events, and corralling the co-op

1-2= for being on the "Jukebox" committee which entails dealing with the music to be played as we dance

Barring any Board of Directors, co-op, or dancer meetings this adds to about 45 hours a week. It is no wonder I have creaky knees and twitching eyelid.

Traveling

2010-11-11T19:35:00.000-08:00

I leave my apartment early tonight, thinking I might as well take advantage of traveling into the Lusty Lady to absorb some of the San Francisco scenery before starting work. The air is crisp and clear. I protect myself from the early darkness and chilling weather with plenty of layers, leaving only my cheekbones and fingertips exposed.

Reaching BART I realize I've just missed my train, the next one arriving in 17 minutes. I pull out my book Unrepentant Whore, the collected works of Scarlot Harlot, taking care to hide the cover picture of a naked curvy red-headed woman from other expectant passengers. As the minutes go by more and more people headed to the city crowd around the black squares on the platform, encircling my spot at the very front and center; I snap my book closed in fear of having curious eyes read over my shoulder.

Despite my efforts I can tell I'm found out as a pretty dark-haired late-20-something woman nudges her masculine date and points her eyes downwards at what is in my hands. My work bag alone can seem innocuous enough with its pink and gold stripes pointing to nothing but whimsy and eccentricity, but paired with the boxed clearance Halloween heals dangling from my other arm my late-night profession is an easy guess. Damn, I should have remembered to stuff them in a canvas bag before I left...

Self-concious I slide my bags as far under the seat as they will possibly go, hoping the visual dissection will be thwarted. Approaching my stop I shoulder my things and wait before the sliding doors, ready to escape the suburban yuppies coming to eat at 4-star restaurants and to see award winning plays and operas.

Above ground another, older, couple who had been stuck immdeiately behind me on both escalators rolls their eyes in my direction as I start my 10 minute climb into North Beach. I can see the projected stereotypes in the whites of their eyes, the misunderstanding, the misused adjectives, and misnomers.

Instead of soaking up the beautiful San Francisco skyline on my trek I am instead lost in thought and at a loss entirely.

Burn Out

2010-11-07T21:27:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of Halloween here is my own ghost story...

In the sex industry the words "burn out" pop up again and again like the words "chicken pox" might in a child's daycare. Its a phantom to all of us dancers at the Lusty Lady and, like the threat of a ghastly chemo-virus in a scary zombie movie, hangs ominously over our heads until we are all gotten, sooner or later. Like a disease sex industry burn out is diagnosed by a series of symptoms that may include but are not limited to: frequent tardiness or absenteeism due to anxiety, self-image and self-projection issues, hostility towards men (customers or otherwise) , and private sex-related issues.

While there are a plethora of interesting articles pertaining to the issue and ways in which one can attempt to cure sex-work burn out there is little information about burn out prevention. Unfortunately, there is no injected inoculation for the phenomena, but hopefully one can keep the disease at bay by using the following self-check ins:

-Assess your mental state prior to taking on such work. If you have high self-esteem and balanced mental faculties make it a goal to stay that way. If you have major body or social issues tap into why you want to pursue sex-work, this may very well be bad medicine for you.

-Before doing whatever kind of sex-work (porn, dancing, escorting etc) check in with your own body and mind and try to assess if you are up to handling the stigmas assigned to sex-workers from yourself, family, friends, and society as a whole. Anticipate having the heavy task of either lying about what you do to everyone around you or battling the stereotypes and negative attitudes.

-Set and keep to boundaries and agreements with yourself, which can mean any number of things and should be different for everyone. Agreements can be related to the amount of time one wants to spend in the industry, what type of work, emotional proximity to patrons, public exposure etc etc. Write them down and remind yourself of them often!

-This may be a bit redundant, but there will always be a need for more money, whether it come from vet bills, car payments, groceries, traveling, or school, and opportunities that may compromise your set agreements will come again and again. No matter how desperate you may be, do not do anything you are not fully comfortable with. Ever.

-Reflect often and well through whatever medium works best for you. Know where your emotions come from and own them. Take charge of your work, do not let it own you.

-Pamper yourself! Any hard worker should be rewarding themselves for the drudgery of everyday obligation but someone using their body for the pleasures of others is more than entitled. Separate work and personal lingerie and accessories, buy cute undies for no one's eyes but your own, treat yourself to manicures, new books, and massage just because and don't forget to give yourself some R and R time.

-Tap into your physical being regularly. Dancing is especially hard on the joints and prone to creating long-term injury. Don't be afraid to tell physicians what you do as the more information they know the better they are able to help you. If for whatever reason you are not comfortable being open with your regular doctor check local resources for sex-worker clinics and friendly space.

Of course this cannot be taken as a how-to or a cure-all and I am sure there are plenty of other factors that contribute to burn out and there are probably (and hopefully) many other ways to prevent the phantom from appearing. If burn out begins to take over I can only stress that the first means of curing the crippling monster is to admit that it exists and to face it head on, whatever that may mean.

Change of Plans

2010-11-03T21:03:00.001-07:00

The first of November arrived without me really having made up my mind about what I wanted to do about school this year. I put off opening my email until the very end of the day, desperately trying to delay finding out my LSAT results. 153, not terrible as I made it out to be at first as it is still above average, but not amazing. The results paired with my GPA (around a 3.5) probably would get me into one or more of the bay area law schools, but after further contemplation I've decided that if I were to settle for just whatever school I could get into would be to rush through life again, a bad habit I am trying desperately hard to escape.

To further settle my internal argument I found that the average age of law school admittance is 26. I'm 22; why the hell do I want to put myself through all this mess now when I still have 4 years on the average?

I have decided to delay only another year more, during which time I am going to focus more on building my own interests and independence. Within the next few months, when my friend and elected superior chooses to vacate the position, I plan to apply for the Lead Madam position, which would give me the responsibility of the day-to-day functions of coordinating the dancers at the Lusty Lady. Also, I would like to start writing a complete history of the SF Lusty Lady, using my degree in the way it was intended. In addition, I'd like to travel, though the destinations are now unknown, to perform, despite my lack of experience, to express myself
artistically through writing and my many crafts, and to read voraciously.

Ok, so this is not an entirely seperate course from what I had previously envisioned, but this path is certainly different from what I have ever done before. This next year will be about me and whatever I choose to get myself into, though I am anticipating both and internal and external struggles to be sure. Unplanned futures are not accepted from recent graduates and I am sure my choices are going to unsettle many in my wake.

Lusty Lady Playday

2010-10-21T13:24:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning I awoke stiff and sore, completely depleted from the long physically intense day I endured before. Saturday October 16th we Lusty gals hosted Playday, a 16 hour long in house party for which we have the rare opportunity to come outside of the glass to play. Under old management Playday was set on the slowest day of the year and owners essentially pulled their hands out of the business and allowed the dancers to do whatever they could do to make as much money as possible with the incentive that the dancers would be able to keep it all as a "Christimas Bonus" of sorts. Manipulative yet creative, the dancers turned the tradition into one of self empowerment and an opportunity to promote the business after the cooperativization. Year after year dancers and support staff would create a safe space for performers and faithful patrons to interact more personally and creatively, an event as much about building community within SF as it was about the immediate needs of the co-op members themselves.

Unfortunately internal efforts were needed elsewhere and the Lusty party was left to the wayside for 3 years, but never forgotten. Customers repeatedly requested the event and tenured dancers remembering the party's positive attributes influenced the Lusty masses to bring it back to the old theatre. Community minded and part of PR committee I was able to be a part of bringing this notable event back, and as tired as the effort made me, I couldn't be happier with the results. 10 percent of the door proceeds were given to St. James Infirmary, noted sexologist Dr. Carol Queen made a brief appearance on our live stage and was an open ear to dancer's ideas and dreams for world more receptive to sex worker needs and rights, and the Lusty Ladies experienced a comradery building opportunity unlike anything I've seen before.

This is why I work the Lusty Lady Peepshow theatre. I love my co-workers, my community, and the cross-pollination of ideas and forms of expression that can occur with only a little bit of nudging. Bruised and battered after the intense workout I still can't help but relish the tremendous benefit that comes with it.

Kiss and Tell

2010-10-17T20:14:00.000-07:00

If you peruse my blog entries you will find truly sexually explicit content quite rare, although many of the topics are sexual in nature. While I have abandoned blog drafts and half-finished handwritten journal entries reflecting more scandalous and intimate material, I have steered clear of posting these things for the protection of partner's and co-worker's identities and feelings and my own personal boundaries. Sorry, dear readers (if there actually are any), I hate to disappoint, but I have never been a girl to kiss and tell.

I can tell you I am quite enjoying my half-secret fantastically realistic fairy-tale life through which I am able to express myself whole-heartily on so many many levels. Thanks to friends, partners, and my own sense of wonder I am experiencing a plethora of wild and amazing things that I often shake with the desire to share with the world but I have to refrain. I am an exhibitionist, yes, but I am also a big fan of controlled environments and an internet blog just does not make the cut.

Furthermore, if you happen to be disappointed, I have to state that revealing play-by-plays of my late night soirees and fantasies has never been the purpose of my public blog. My intention is to bring a melding of self reflection and academic analysis of my experiences as a whole, using more revealing and specific information in order to support larger themes and ideas, never at the expense of others in the process.

Finding the balance between sharing exciting experiences and revealing a series of raunchy stories can sometimes be difficult, yet to exhibit without meditation or care for others is the easy way out. It may be bold to share every detail of my sex life but I couldn't say that work would be contributing to any sort of positive end.

Decisions Decisions

2010-10-15T08:36:00.000-07:00

Yay, I am officially done with the LSATs and I don't think I did too terribly on them, alas I will not know until November 1st. Next step to figuring out my life in this next year is to start gathering law school applications and letters of recommendation, writing and editing my admission' essays, and start making some decisions. While there is really only one family member pushing me to go back to school asap, I'm still quite unsure about what I want to do. On one hand I would love to be out and done with law school by the time I'm 24, but I also feel to young to start such a heavy career and I don't want to give up my lifestyle. I really feel like I am able to find myself now, center on what is important to me, and identify with others better than ever before, which I'm afraid may all be lost, or at least placed on a long hold, if I were to go back immediately.

Being a child borne of chaos I actively strove for schedule and stability, through high school and college, in all facets of my life. I rushed through my college experience, planning everything from my first year to the last. The past year, some of which has been spent still in school, I have never felt more grounded or centered while being less self-contained and active in the world around me and I'm certainly not ready to risk having anything stunted. Part of me thinks this fear is unfounded and that change can only happen if I want it to, but the thought of it possibly being inevitable with a heavier study load and additional rigor to my everyday agenda keeps creeping in on me.

Spontaneity, creativity, and progression have spoiled me I suppose.

Photography

2010-10-07T14:12:00.000-07:00

I finally recieved unedited files of the two photoshoots I participated in with fellow Lusties and models Kitty McMuffin and Tempest with photographer John Gatta. Want to see?

Booth Fantasies

2010-09-23T10:56:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure if its due to the recent slowing in Private Pleasures traffic in the last few days, my constant interaction with some hot and sexy people, or just the dream malaise that sometimes occurs under the red and amber blinking lights, but I've been having some pretty intense fantasies about my place of business.

I imagine a hot straight couple coming in for the first time. The woman, smiling sheepishly, tells me she secretly fantasizes about women but doesn't know how to meet them or what to do with them even if she did. Somehow the glass disappears and I give direction as her man sucks and fucks until I tell him its my turn to have my way with her...

I imagine my lover (gah I hate that word!) coming in for a visit, staring at me through the glass cock in hand while I tease him to frustration, which after an elaborate power exchange and some punishment for my naughty behavior I'm left to sit in cum soaked panties for my next real customer...

I imagine watching my boyfriend in a corner booth of the live show with a trans lover, making a show of screwing all hot and sweaty for us girls on stage, who can't help but pant and moan...

I imagine a fellow Lusty Lady crush finally addressing my pining, initiating some surprise girl-on-girl action in the break room, which all of our customers (hearing the ridiculously loud squeals) mistake as someone's really lame porn...

Small Thoughts on Balance

2010-09-20T15:35:00.000-07:00

Boyfriend and I are finally getting into the groove of things in our and our external relationships. Rules are being scrutinized and renegotiated, most of them being tossed aside as being unnecessary or as stemming from haphazard feelings. Which is not to say that we are going to be going about our independent business willy-nilly, but that we are learning more and more communication and honesty are key, as opposed to the many mundane obstacles we started with.

Though our experiences had been unbalanced for months, with myself developing a relationship with another man while Boyfriend has been without momentum, the scales seem to be evening. Gaining some extra doses of confidence, Boyfriend has been going on some dates of his own, lessening fears and jealousy that espoused from feeling left out. And I couldn't be happier. This sounds strange to my "normal" friends, but I love the man and, quite frankly, I know others will as well and both he and they shouldn't be denied.

While I know that this shift is new and still going to be ever-changing I am thankful for its presence now.

Chit-Chat

2010-09-13T23:29:00.000-07:00

Oh gosh I love the customers that just come in to the Lusty to talk. While they are few and far between our Private Pleasures sessions can be so educational and mutually theraputic.

In one of my most recent encounters our faithful patron, who out of kindness I will not name, paid me the price of a show and tipped me generously before starting our chat. Due to the rareness, the onset of such interactions can be a bit awkward with myself usually undressing before the patron has declared a different motive for his visit, but generally the vulnerability of honesty and openness from the customer balance the obvious vulnerability of nakedness on my part. In this case our conversation only lasted a few minutes the topics ranging from residency history (his, not mine), tattoo symbolism, to Lusty Lady history I hadn't known. While I would have kept the meter running for such valuable company, he quickly thanked me for my time and wished me the best of luck as soon as the first buzzer went off.

Other chit-chatty customers like the attention focused more on themselves, which for a work-a-holic stripper can be quite the relief at times. I've heard the woes of men who have just gotten dumped and divorced, the happy announcements of engagements and marriage, and anecdotes of all shapes and sizes brought back from the office, vacation, sexual expeditions, and practically any other category of story one can imagine. I've seen frustration, glee, confusion, melancholy, and illumination on more faces than I can count and been empathetic to them all.

While sometimes the conversations can turn a bit heavy, I generally get some sort of pressure relieved off my shoulders in the process as well. These people aren't looking for a hot body to fetishize or eroticize they are looking for an open ear and, for whatever reason, can't find it anywhere else in the "real" world. They come to us, strippers and masturbators, not to gawk or get off but to relate to another human being. Being what I am I often have a hard time relating to others back in my clothes and far away from the glass it is awfully nice to have someone from the outside choose to connect me in such a basic human way.

Self Portrait

2010-09-01T23:54:00.000-07:00

Getting Physical

2010-08-23T19:35:00.001-07:00

Despite the fact that the Lusty patron and the dancers are separated physically by a quarter inch of glass and audibly by pounding music it is amazing how much communication can still pass through. Patron behavior has a profound effect on the body language, mood, and response of the dancer, and can leave us reeling with emotion, both positive and negative, for hours.

Working Friday and Saturday late nights at the Lusty Lady a dancer can experience the whole range of customer interaction, as North Beach's high-density of booze-filled party-goers on these nights bring larger than usual crowds through our doors and late-nights in general at the Lusty harbor the more "interesting" customers. Hand signals telling us what to do like swimming motions (open your legs), finger twirling (turn around), and beckoning are generally unwanted customer behavior and are ignored or responded to resolutely with either a honey-dripped "sweetie, you can't tell me what to do in this room" or harshly with a "I make the rules here, don't tell me what to do." Crossed-arms or other bored behavior from customers recipricates like with like, most of our ladies won't even bother approaching the window of someone who can't even bother looking at them in the face. Drunk women feigning shock over the site of naked women, who point, laugh, compare, or even ridicule the dancers can cause extreme emotional stress, leaving lasting impressions.

While a good Friday or Saturday night dance shift is one in which the dancers don't have to direct the patrons to close and lock their doors too much, have their picture taken, or leave the Lusty feeling completely depleted and exhausted, a great shift is one where the dancers feel a sense of comraderie with one another and can actually get into the party atmosphere of the world beyond the glass. I personally love it when customers pretend to dance or sing with me, tell me about their love lives or what they plan to do that night, and try to "eye fuck" me through the glass. Yes, intense (non creepy) eye contact and real flirting can get the juices flowing for real on our side of the glass and leave us feeling just as head-high and horny as our masturbating audience.

While many people describe strip clubs and peepshows as places of fantasy, which certainly is true to a certain extent, they are also places of intimacy. Utterly naked and exposed, we dancers are much more attuned to negative and harmful body language and grab onto the inviting and flirty behavior of men and women. No physical touching is possible under our roof, but damn if we cannot actually feel those pokes, prods, grabs, booty spanks, soft strokes, hugs, and kisses through the window!

Present Incorporations

2010-08-19T00:10:00.001-07:00

Things are certainly trying between studying for the future, working and striving for the present, and constantly dealing and strengthening with what one has grown up with and incorporating with in the past. Yes, yes, I've apologized time and again for not keeping track of my public blog, but I mean something more than that. I do not keep a diary, and, aside from my texts, I dont write much more than that than my work emails, schedules, and LSAT crap. I just don't. This blog is incredibly important to me; this is the place where I keep everything essential to myself, in any form.

To be honest I don't have a relatioship to my parents, or any other member of my family. Long-term friends are inconsistant and I have a very bad habit of pushing people away. I've never been the socialite and, because of my mothers adolecent social paranoia, I was never really able to "get out there" with my peers.

I have often felt the outcast, someone somehow missing the point of the game and or how to really be on the level of the one's around; whether they be fellow students in high school or college or previous loved ones. And now, for a plethora of reasons, I have begun to be "on the in." I kinda feel like I know what I'm doing. Sort of.

I am going to keep going. I am going to be that old me. That person who organizes, works constanty (whether it is a mundane role or not), AND I am going to do whatever the fuck I want.

I want a record of this. ME not caring for things, for getting credit where it is deserved, knowing what is right completely subjectivly, seeking pleasure, getting paid, orgasiming, loving, creating, flirting, writing, being carefree, being careful, wanting to be that Rosie the Riviter persona I have wanted to be.

This is me and I need to be consistent and true to me. I am sorry to me, I am going to be taking much better care of you.

Preliminary Thoughts

2010-07-31T21:31:00.000-07:00

Boyfriend and I are taking a pretty big step in our relationship tomorrow. Yes yes moving in together was step, though for us not as big as it could be, but this step is somehow more intense. New friends of ours, Pepper Mint and Jen Day, write furiously, activate for, and instruct classes at various locations on the subject of polyamory. While he and I have been practicing, myself more than he, we are finding that to move forward in our current relationship we must receive some outside guidance. No this isn't like marriage counseling where we try to put back the pieces that have fallen apart, but more of a business plan meeting with outside help ready to facilitate our own brainpower on expectations, boundaries, assumptions, and helpful communication skills.

I have to admit I am excited and scared about the venture. While we both know we care deeply about each other and that we want to see ourselves happy, healthy, and independent, I wonder what will happen if our expectations and boundaries don't match. Does that mean that they cannot change or is there room for growth and integration?

Profile of a Peepshow

2010-07-20T12:32:00.001-07:00

I've realized, dear readers, that I have relayed so many snippets about my life at the Lusty Lady peepshow without explaining what the Lusty Lady is.

For first time customers the Lusty Lady peepshow can be an intimidating and confusing place. One walks into the entrance to find a soda machine and a massive amount of porn DVDs on the left, a huge desk with a scruffy looking Support Staff member ready to make change but usually not conversation on the right, dingy patterned carpet below them, and a mirrored and red draped hallway leading to the insides. Behind blue doors sit ancient video machines that play a wide selection of porn (and sometimes cartoons for men who just want to be distracted, not turned on). In the halls one can hear a cacophony of moaning and slapping from them and often squealing and giggling from behind the red doors of the main stage.

Half oval shaped, mirrored, and red carpeted, the main stage is encircled by twelve dark booths, ten for single occupancy that reveal nothing but the head and shoulders of the patron and sits about waist high on the dancer and two "couples booths" located at the front corners of the stage equipped with a bench seat and a much larger window. In these booths couples are strongly encouraged, often harassed into by the dancers, playing and fucking, quite the treat for the overwhelmingly bi-curious majority dancer population. More often than not though the occupants of these booths are exhibitionist men who enjoy having the performer react and perform for their whole selves.

When I first started working at the Lusty I was most certainly shocked at being able to see the patrons puffing and shaking as they pleasured themselves to my image. Although my boyfriend and I had been to the Lusty as consumers before I had no idea how well the dancers could actually see into the tiny dark booths or how little they could hear of us inside. Now naked on the other side of the glass I can appreciate the experience from both sides: anonymity vs. total exposure, entrapment vs. freedom, voyeur vs. exhibitionist.

For $1 the shade will lift revealing three fully nude women of various ages, shapes, ethnicity, and accessories while a variety of semi-loud music ranging from rap to bluegrass, from Guns n Roses to Elvis plays in the background. Being a co-op where the wages are level and competition and hustling is unnecessary the feel of the show is general sensuous, fun, and relaxed. Patrons are free to change booths to find the dancer that appeals most to their fantasies, in most cases a move that isn't critical of the dancer they are leaving. Dancers receiving positive feedback from specific customer may offer their name and the next time they are in Private Pleasures, but no real push is ever dished. Patrons are also lucky to witness sincere positive interactions between the dancers themselves, true friendships, sexual flirtations, and story swapping.

Across the hall, away from the hubbub of the lobby and near the double-doored restrooms, is the Private Pleasures booth, a small one-on-one fantasy talk booth where customers can get more personal attention. Inside shows start at $20 and can range from simple spread, masturbation, and toy shows to humiliation, sub, ass worship, or practically anything else they can imagine. Essentially, the more explicit the show the more expensive it is. For some performers the proximity can be overwhelming and undesirable, but the prospect of getting a higher hourly wage and a percentage of the earnings keeps them from turning the shifts away. Others, myself included, generally enjoy the unique experience and the strange variety of customers and requests.

While there are always a few visitors that can't get past the funky smell (which cant be masked by fragrances because of sensitive-nosed employees) or the strange smears, the Lusty lady is the perfect place for safe sexual exploration. With encouraging staff and a balance between privacy and exposure, the peepshow can be a place of refuge for some and exhilaration for others. Some patrons will only stop in one once on a pit stop in their travels, others are marathon men, returning day after day or weekly as part of routine. No matter what the kink, gender, orientation, fantasy, or frequency of the customer, the Lusty Ladies never turn them away.

Wrap Up

2010-07-09T12:23:00.000-07:00

Oh gosh, what a whirlwind week! And unfortunately it isn't anywhere near closed with my friends wedding tomorrow and me being her maid of honor. What a strange concept 'maid of honor' is. Its real title should be 'the most responsible member of the bridal party to which most responsibilities will be delegated and suffered.' Alas, all will be well at the party and Im sure much joy and passion will erupt from their union.

Maybe a blog on the concept of marriage will be on my horizons if I ever get time...

Anyways....

This week truly has been a tornado of happenings and stirrings. At the Peepshow I am taking on more and more administrative responsibility whilst still doing my best on the live stage. I trained (and became more intimate with than we had been previously) one of my very best friends from middle and high school in the Private Pleasures booth. Her name is Eve and seems to be quite the sensation. If you are a patron of the ol' LL I highly recommend you check her.

Polyamory is becoming less of a concept and more of a practice for my Boyfriend and I as we navigate the rocking waves of the relationship seas. Since we began living together this past month we are having to adapt to one another anew and how we relate to our outside interests, a task which has been frustrating, exciting, and emotionally binding and I am truly thankful for the patience and guidance of outside lovers.

Scrap for cash and wanting to experiment I have started my own clips4sale site (previously mentioned, I know) with the concept of outsiders being able to peak into the often exciting sexual world of Sandy Bottoms, in whatever form that may take. If interested my clip store is located at http://www.clips4sale.com/store/39555 and I am always willing and happy to take advise and suggestions.

This week I have also offcially started my path to law school! Ill be taking the LSATs this October and will be taking a very expensive (hence the maniacal work ethic) and time consuming Kaplan prep course the rest of the summer. If all goes well I will be able to apply for schools in the Winter and start at some Bay Area school this coming fall.

In case you are ever wondering where I have run off to I really am not too far! Give me patience and positive thoughts and I will continue to record my journey.

Clips4Sale

2010-06-30T17:45:00.001-07:00

Wow, I really need to stop taking so long on updating this thing. I really do have a couple longer and more inspired pieces in the works, but I just have not had the time to sit down and finish them.

"Bad Sandy, bad!" Now all I need is a good spanking and my self reprimand will be complete.

In the last few weeks I have come to the conclusion that I need to create my own clips4sale shop on which I will update as often as possible (hopefully even more so than I do here) with adult clips of myself and possibly of my main squeeze as well. About a month ago I did my first fetish clips with another clips4sale seller, which I felt went remarkably well, though not as Sandy Bottoms. Now, my intention is not just merely to reproduce ideas and fetishes that already swarm the internet my goal is to somehow create a virtual sexy storyline for Sandy that may or may not reflect bits and pieces of my real life. In this Sandy will still be a character, though as I've mentioned before Sandy and I blend and blur quite a bit, but I don't want her to be as removed from real life as others.

Having that said I want this venture to be quasi-interactive. I want suggestions, requests, funny stories, inspiration from my readers, patrons, and friends! I want silliness, seriousness, and seductive-ness!

Really, I want to be creative and have some fun while making some loose change. Other fetish models and sellers may know exactly the right 1, 2, 3 sequence and formulas for the best selling clips, but I'd like to do something a bit more interesting.

Curious Reads

2010-06-14T11:52:00.000-07:00

If you are ever looking for some good reads on alternative social construction, poly/nonmonogamous relationships, or the sex industry take a gander at these:

* http://freaksexual.wordpress.com/

* http://www.spreadmagazine.org/category/blog/

* http://www.pollysuperstar.com/

In addition to these wonderful blogs I am reading Strip City: A Stripper's Farewell Journey Across America by Lily Burana.

Women!

2010-06-13T15:20:00.000-07:00

Man, sometimes I just lose it when I am around a woman I find attractive or when I start getting attention. I just don't know what to do! I am certainly not aggressive when it comes to flirting with someone of the opposite gender, but under mainstream social parameters it seems much easier to do than dealing with someone of the same or mixed gender.

My response to women flirting with me is much the same as what I imagine 13 year old boys experience: my palms get sweaty, my legs fidgety, and I generally let direct contact go under my radar, which is definitely not conclusive to furthering the interaction. Time after time I have blown opportunities to be closer with women, but I still don't know how to check my obstructive behavior.

To those who have seen this erratic self-manipulating behavior first hand I apologize for my awkwardness...

To those who have been that interested female whose attempts were thwarted by my seemingly non-compliant nature I ask for you to try again...

To those of you who have been in my position or have any experience in this field, I welcome your input...

I'm Back!

2010-06-08T10:41:00.000-07:00

What a whirlwind month! I apologize for the long hiatus, internet is back in service and I will have plenty of time to write in the coming months.

Updates soon!

Events Events Events

2010-05-16T23:25:00.001-07:00

Oh Lordy, the next couple of weeks are going to be intense....

With the last day of finals coming Friday and Saturday being the big graduation day (woot!), its a wonder how I am able to focus on anything else. However, focus I must and here is a brief list (ad) of the various upcoming events you can spot me at:

*Friday, May 21 @ the Uptown in Oakland come see me perform for the first time EVER on a stage with the Bay Area's very own gothic strip revue, the Black Widows -lots of sexy dark ladies giving out lap dances and unique performances for your viewing pleasure

*Saturday, May 22 @ SF Mission Control's Kinky Salon themed WET!-come get wet with myself and some very slippery Lusties as we perform at the Midnight Cabaret!

*Saturday, June 5th @ the Lexington Club in SF for the gay Pride Parade Float fundraiser aptly named the BOOTY BASH-I've been working my tail off gathering loverly ladies to tantalize your eyes with some saucy lobster burlesque, Lusty lap dances, scandalous raffles, and other nautical naughtiness!

So come reward my good girl behavior and come support myself and my compatriots at these events, ahoy!!!

Its Obvious I'm a Stripper When...

2010-05-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

It's obvious that I am a stripper when:

-heels in varying stages of repair are strewn across my desk

-glittery makeup falls out of my backpack at school

-I wiggle my ass every time I lean down to pick something up off the floor

-my ears perk up to anyone being referred to by what could be a stripper name (Candy, Trixxie, Honey, even Lucy or Wendy hehe)

-I stop reacting to strange men whipping out their genitals in public

...to be continued...

Booth Thoughts

2010-05-10T00:05:00.000-07:00

I have come to the conclusion, dear diary, that men with fetishes seem to be the most polite and pleasant customers at the Lusty Lady. I don't know what it is...whether they feel that they have to compensate for their taboo desires by being ultra-nice, but it is definitely always a bonus when they come in. Today I had my first and second foot fetish custies in booth (two separate occasions of course) and both of them sent endless compliments and praises my way. A chubby-chaser who has come to see me a couple times (yes I was offended at first by being called thick) practically places me on a pedestal, telling me all he would want to do is get me tiara and make me a princess.

In my limited experience it is generally (I emphasize generally) the "normal" men that are into mainstream sexual practices that burn me out in booth. Considering mainstream pornography is male-centric and emphatic on the behalf of male control, female humiliation, and objectification, it is no wonder that these customers sometimes leave me feeling slightly used and uncomfortable. These are the men that haggle tooth and nail, call me names (not in the BDSM sorta way), refuse to tip, and act as if I am somehow beneath them.

So yes, I will take pantie sniffers, submissives, chubby chasers, leg-foot-hand fetish, pain lovers, bi-trans-unisex customer any day over the average Financial District suit or North Beach frat.

Unless, of course, I'm proven wrong....

Ladies Galore

2010-05-06T17:04:00.000-07:00

I am constantly reminded of just how amazing my fellow Lusties truly are. While most people who come to see them of course come to see their sexy nakedness, I get the opportunity to see them both within their each unique persona and without. Out of the dozens of dancers would anyone know which ones had children? Additional careers?

As a newbie I have gotten into the habit of asking older dancers probably what seems to be way too many questions: do you dance anywhere else? when did you start dancing at the LL? etc. Although I've probably driven my coworkers crazy. I found the information incredibly insightful. Some are career strippers, having danced for years at various clubs all over the US and plan to do so until they can't dance anymore. Some are professors, while others are students like myself. Some have very supportive and interested family support systems, while others have to hide their job or don't even have contact at all. Some are on their own, some live with friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, lovers, children, grandparents. Some are professional sex workers, dominatrix's, and porn stars, enjoying their life to the absolute fullest, while others have heartbreaking stories of love, sickness, and eternal perseverance.

My only suggestion to you, dear readers, is to keep coming back. Keep coming back to your favorite unionized-co-op peepshow, but in addition to getting off to the beautiful wigged-up, dolled-up sex kitten dancing in front of you, get off on the mystery of her true beauty, her confidence, and her story.

Maybe, Just Maybe

2010-05-04T19:01:00.000-07:00

While growing up I could never be called a graceful child. Spending my summers and free time riding bikes and jumping into pools, I gained the reputation of being quite the klutz. My body, covered in cuts and scrapes, scabs and bruises was constant proof of my inability to be dainty and full of restraint. While I certainly did have my tomboy tendencies, I still loved playing with my Barbies and looking at the women in girlie magazines. My family, obviously aware of disparity in my character like to tease "there goes your modeling career" whenever I sustained a new injury.

No fear, dear diary, this entry is neither about my family scarring or damaging me in any way, nor a plea for sympathy or attention, merely a glimpse into the foundation of my perfectly-sound self.

Years go by and scars on legs, arms, and face eventually fade and some have disappeared. Lotions and make-up generally take care of the rest. I can't say that the chiding words of my family did not effect me; during high school I chose to stay behind the camera, refusing to have my picture taken by anyone. But now, as confindence in myself and my appearance grows (not to the point of being vain), I feel like maybe something can come from it.

By no means do I intend or even desire to be a fashion model or famous or anything related to a professional modeling career, but maybe I shouldn't be afraid of the camera anymore. I still don't feel particularly photogenic, but maybe with some instruction from some fellow Lusties (whom have offered) and practice it would be possible to dabble within this next year before starting law school. While my recent tumbles on stage in heals (and on level sidewalks in normal shoes) are proof I haven't completely outgrown my klutziness, I'm not going to let it check my many whims.

Down in Flames

2010-04-27T16:03:00.000-07:00

Oh Diary,

My name is Sandy Bottoms and I am addicted to craigslist...well, maybe this statement isn't entirely true, but my compulsion to explore has gotten me in a bit of a sticky situation today. I have been toying with the idea of selling panties online using a site like ebanned.com for some extra cash, but shied away because of my fear of having shady customers being able to track down my home address and other personal information. When I saw that men were posting want ads for this item on craigslist I decided just to go for it, since the transaction would be anonymous and made in a public place.

Yesterday I responded to a very straightforward want ad and received a pleasant reply shortly after and through several emails more we were able to establish the transaction -- a pair of worn cotton panties in return for $50 and a coffee. I went this afternoon nervous, wary, and excited. While I personally do not get off on the idea of a panty raider with my undies, I find the rush of the taboo intriguing and I figure at the very least I could scratch another thing off my bucket list. The man, around age 50, handsome, and obviously wealthy, was pleasant and surprisingly easy to talk to. After a bit of lighthearted chit chat the transaction was made and we both agreed to consider doing it again. While I knew I probably hit upon a rarity in the craigslist adult ad-world, I felt optimistic and rejuvenated in my faith the strange.

Unfortunately this feeling did not last long. Soon after the meeting I received an email of gratitude from the man in which he also suggested more personal services, which I graciously although firmly deflected. His persistence and growing 'tude towards my honest responses eventually led to direct insult, or what he percieved to be insult, (and I quote) "thanks and it is like i thought sexy, working in a place like lusty lady gives a lady an elevated opinion of herself."

Damn straight I have a high opinion of myself! And no, its not just because I work at the LL, though the unionization and co-op are an excellent channel for it, its because I am an intellegent woman who knows her worth and chooses not to subject myself to a persistent slime-ball even if I were interested in performing more explicit services. Believe me, I stand in solidarity with my sex-worker brothers and sisters, finding absolutely nothing wrong with the viable repressed industry, and by no means does my high opinion stem from anything reflecting snobbery towards them.

Live and learn I guess...

While my admittedly naive hopes for being able to jump in and out of the sub-worlds of SF are slowly being dashed, I don't think I am going to give up quite yet. There is no way in hell that I will EVER even continue to respond to such rubbish again, I'm going to take it as a compliment and as confirmation of my strength and versatility.

What if...

2010-04-22T17:07:00.000-07:00

On a slightly more serious matter:

In the near future our President Obama will have the important task of appointing the next Supreme Court Justice. Now with the resignation of Justice John Paul Stevens, the media has frenzied itself with the question of who will Obama appoint next, and more importantly (apparently to them) will they be of Protestant faith, as was the resigning Justice. Now, as often occurs during my 3-hour long law class, I got to thinking...the media , and presumably the public, is getting all worked up over the religion of the next Justice, though it is not supposed to reflect upon the quality of their decision making . As has happened in the past the backgrounds of potential appointees are thoroughly scrutinized for biases before being approved or denied.

Jeeze, so what if my legislative ambitions were as high...

an ex-stripper (by that time I imagine!) radical-thinking, deviance indulging woman from ore than humble origins would definitely be denied. But what an interesting perspective I could offer to the moderately-conservative make-up of the highest court in the United States...pro-US Constitution and Bill of Rights, humanitarian, class justice criminal perspective....

maybe I should try to set my sights higher?

(BTW wouldn't those shoes look amazing peeking out from underneath black robes?)

Seattle Lusty Lady Closing!

2010-04-20T15:55:00.000-07:00

http://www.seattlepi.com/local/6420ap_wa_lusty_lady.html

We at the SF Lusty Lady have recently heard about the closing of our Seattle namesake and feel for our sister dancers more than words can describe due to our rich shared history and worker sympathy. Although our doors remain open, we too are reeling with the impact of an economic recession and the rising use of internet pornography and are in the midst of a peepshow overhaul. For all you SF Lusty followers take comfort in that we refuse to go give up our show, but expect things to be a bit different than business as usual, though we believe the changes made will be all for the best and make your (and our) experience much more tantalizing.

Changes to expect:

-Private Pleasures starting at 9 am instead of 11 am Monday through Friday (we want to help you with that morning wood)
-interior revamp, new paint, new merchandise display, new signs directing you to the various sexy activities
-intensification of PR, more photos, more theme nights, more interactive advertising, more Tweets
-more Lusty events (come check us out at our LL Pride Parade Fundraiser Party coming soon!)

To all our supporters: we thank you for sticking with us and we hope to see you in our doors soon!

Bam Bam

2010-04-18T22:01:00.000-07:00

Oh Diary, I know I have been away for a while, though not for lack of information to share. This past week had been a bit rough between school, work, event planning for the Lusty Pride parade fundraiser, and boy and girl issues, but it was not all for naught. Despite all of this, I know I need to keep my head up and try to think of only the positive things, which is why I want to share my first BDSM sampler experience. Yes, I have had some public and private spanking sessions with the boyfriend, coworkers, and others, but this mini demonstration has really gotten me going.

Now out of my experience I have learned I enjoy thuddy versus stingy things to be hit with, the cane and paddle being my particular favorites. The horse whip was ok, but I was too paranoid of it cutting my skin to really enjoy it. I definitely did not enjoy the Wartenberg wheel on my back after being bopped due to insane ticklishness, but I loved it on my wrists and arms before the demonstration.

I am not interested in getting into the BDSM lifestyle but I'd love to bring more of it into the bedroom, or play parties for that matter. While bare bottom spanking is still my favorite, I am glad I am able to add more to my list of things that get me off...hopefully I will be able to add more soon. Any suggestions and recommendations for online or printed resources would be greatly appreciated!

Labels

2010-04-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in the previous post its hard enough to label and advertise ourselves as a couple (swinger/poly etc), let alone as individuals. While I had noticed myself being attracted to other girls in high school I routinely brushed off my feelings as just a "photographers eyes" merely appreciating the female form and forced myself to ignore outside attraction (to both boys and girls) for the sake of keeping to the mainstream myth of having found my lifetime "high school sweetheart." While I knew people who characterized themselves as transgender, gay and bi, I was afraid if I allowed myself to act on my interests I would be made a target and labeled as another one of those girls "who did it for attention." However my attitude changed my freshman year of college, when I met a beautiful androgynous lesbian woman and developed my first hardcore crush on another woman (that I met in a woman's studies class how stereotypical right?). Since then I have officially and proudly labeled myself as bi, though again, my attraction to parteners who do not fit into the easy molds of stereotypical male or female may make the term 'queer' more appropriate, which is probably something I will want to discuss at a later date.

Although living in progressive San Francisco I still am met with the same anti-bi attitude as I was living in white-washed suburbia back in high school. My straight and gay friends and acquaintances, whether they know my sexual orientation or not, repeatedly reiterate that they don't understand people who don't prefer one or the other and figure that people who pronounce themselves as bi are either really straight and are faking attraction to the same gender, or gay who is going through a period of resistance. How am I supposed to argue how I feel? I know I am neither, yet mainstream social constructs advocate that people in my position really don't exist. MTV shows like TrueLife and My Life As do offer segments on bisexuality and polyandry, but they douse it in a coating of absurdity and immorality. How am I supposed to explain my attraction when my straight friends associate female-female attraction to steamy hot tub scenes and teeny-bopper angst?

As much as I get frustrated over the societal need to be labeled and characterized (dating websites insisting on picking straight/bi/gay on profiles), I know it is often much worse for my boyfriend who would not characterize himself as anything. Yes, he feels attracted to women and men, but definitely not in the same way or quantity. Some internet text label this as being hetero-flexible, a title that is even MORE hard to describe not only to oneself but to others in the dating and playing world. Not only do I find this mainstream need to tag everyone into easily defined channels a personal challenge to my self construction, I find the whole system built around doing so to be a complete mess that leaves little room for change, variation, and expansion.

Being Open

2010-04-11T20:31:00.000-07:00

Since I am still in weekend mode I am going to make this entry a bit more informal, diary. Although the SF weather was a bit too stormy for my taste, today was a very good day: slept in late after a late night, woke up in a snuggley-warm bed next to the love of my life, went to a cafe and ate hummus, and had some wonderful/deep/much needed conversation with the boy on our status in the poly/open/kink world. While we have both have had some titilating experiences and have remained loyal to the other's wishes and feelings, the change from an eight-year monogamous relationship to a whirlwind non-monogamous relationship is not without its problems. Today I intend to briefly outline two of them.

Our main source of conflict stems from an imbalance of encounters and experiences outside of our relationship. Being a young woman in the SF Bay non-monogamous community, I have had a much easier time finding independent partners, thus unfortunately (or fortunately?), my sexual experiences have been under scrutiny and are the basis for testing our weaknesses and strengths in our coping mechanisms, intentions, and communication. Emotionally things have been mixed: feelings of euphoria, arousal, enlightenment, flirtation, understanding, intrigue, and creativity are mixed with guilt, frustration, confusion, longing, jealousy and feelings of inadequacy, though they have come to both of us at different times and under a variety of circumstances. Though we both have and do experience this strange and new mix of emotions we both agree that this is a world still worth exploring and believing in.

The second source of question is in what to label ourselves: poly or swinger. While we have attended poly events in SF and groups online neither of us find the title appropriate because our desire to keep the two of us as the solid foundation of our relationship and keep many of the mainstream monogamous behaviors strictly shared between ourselves. At the same time 'swinger' feels inaccurate because of our desire to build some level of platonic relationship and recurrence with the same partners, even though we do attend play parties and swinger events as well. Finding ourselves in a gray area it has been a task pinpointing the direction we would like to go in as a couple and, essentially, marketing ourselves to others.

While nothing was resolved in our conversation today, though that was never really the goal, we both have found a deeper understanding and appreciation for the other and of the community with which we hope to delve deeper into. While neither a single person nor source is able to map out this muddy path, we are managing to find our own with the help of new friends, new partners, new experiences, and texts. Will we leave the relationship open permenantly? Will we have periods of relative monogamy and non-monogamy? Will the prospect of marriage and children change how we feel about being open? What will happen if the relationship continues to be imbalanced? Answers to these will just have to appear with time.

A Treatise on Sandy

2010-04-09T14:59:00.000-07:00

In light of recent questions regarding the origin of my name and the 'Sandy Bottoms' persona I have decided to formally enlighten. First and foremost I think you need to understand the dire situation I was in the summer I auditioned; I obtained a TERRIBLE sunburn across my bottom while on a trip to SoCal only a mere couple of days before the audition, leaving me feeling permenantly marred (and yes I still have the tan lines). Because of my beach trip and my general elation over being able to enjoy the beaches of SF I also listened to quite a bit of surf rock, which set the receptors for my boyfriends suggestion of the name Miss Sandy Bottoms.

While some ladies choose to create a persona external to their real selves, Sandy is taken from a part of me, or rather, a part of my real personality. Sandy is the part of me that is able to indulge in never-ending games of dress up and flirtation (or down), she is perky, naive and always willing to please, and a bit of a glamor-puss. While most of my friends and family know about my job at the LL and Sandy, the girly-girl side of myself is checked by my mother hen tendencies, my (ex-) Bay Area punk roots (septum ring goes up behind glass), and my willingness to get dirty and tough in both talk and play.

Admittedly, due to Sandy being inspired by a piece of myself, the lines do tend to blur. Sometimes Sandy is from SF and likes to talk about local bands with cute punk boys in the hall.....instead of being the sunscreen coated Sandy from Venice Beach. At other times Sandy does like to wear the apron used at home for baking and crafting in booth for custies and to read historical fiction where others can see. In addition to adding myself to Sandy I have noticed more and more that Sandy is building something in the real me; confidence, flamboyance, and the willingness to be self expressive, all of which are tendencies I only flirted with without her.

Things That Turn Me On...

2010-04-08T12:06:00.000-07:00

Woe to the procrastinating college student...

Instead of doing my reading on Ataturks Turkey and the emergence of the one-party state (yawn) I have decided to compile a hodge-podge list of things/actions/thoughts that get me all riled up. Maybe we share similar traits?

-manly and feminine men, voluptuous and tomboy women--androgynous people of all sorts
-humble eye contact (as opposed to the creepy "I'm trying to take your soul" kind
-being spanked
-multiple sets of hands rubbing me anywhere
-more-somes
-blushing
-watching couples fool around in booth
-constriction
-the sound of sheets being tousled
-sex noises (real ones, not high-pitched nasal-y fake "oh yeas!")
-witnessing (and taking part in) queer make-out sessions
-candid nudity
-the possibility of being caught having sex in public
-the idea of ruining an innocent Mormon boy
-women in men's clothing
-innuendos
-dirty story time
-a really cold bed with someone laying next to me

etc etc.

Ok, back to the books. I promise I will make more additions later.

The Language of the Lusty Lady

2010-04-07T22:12:00.000-07:00

Ok, I have decided to post a paper I wrote recently for an English class. Maybe I can earn some forgiveness from my previous withdrawal?

The Language of the Lusty Lady

The term dialect is used to describe any variety of a language spoken by a community of people. Factors that contribute to this phenomenon, which can be witnessed in cultures all over the world within all languages, include class, age, location, occasion, gender, and profession among any other imaginable – and probably unimaginable – social and environmental differences. Although certain dialects may only be spoken by a small number of people, as in the case of the Cromerty’s fisherfolk dialect of Scotland where the last two speakers have recently died, multiple dialects can be spoken by a single individual. An individual may use a multitude of dialects if they identify with multiple cultural groups or when one is interacting with someone from another cultural group, as a 16 year old will speak differently with their friend’s parents than if they were with their friends. Lusty Lady lingo, the dialect spoken by myself and about 60 others who work at the San Francisco Lusty Lady peepshow, is a compilation of several other dialects and has its roots entrenched in the turbulent history of the Lusty Lady.

Understanding the tumultuous history of the Lusty Lady, which is the only unionized, worker-owned peepshow in the world, is imperative to understand the dialect. Live nude entertainment was brought to the Lusty Lady in 1983 by two Seattle businessmen, who managed the female workers using stereotypical exploitive tactics: random firings and pay cuts, racist shift policies, and other unsavory business practices common in the largely male-dominated adult entertainment industry. Rallying together, the workers combated the owner’s lawyers, picket lines, and lockout and voted to join the Service Employees International Union (SEIU) in 1997. With a decline in profits in response to the rise of internet pornography and an economic recession, the owners announced plans to close the Lusty Lady in 2003, inspiring the dancers to delve into the world of business and to purchase the Lusty with the assistance of other Bay Area co-ops and the previous owners. Now the Lusty operates successfully with the number of employees ranging around 60 female dancers, who elect management (Madams) from within our own, and 10 staff, both male and female who have the option of joining the co-op. These dancers (Lusties) and staff members come from a variety of different backgrounds and with a multitude of motivation ranging from political activism, business entrepreneurship, and for the job itself, stripping.

Women, young and old, who work or have worked in strip clubs, have their own set of approved words and phrases with which they describe the strip world around them, which from the outside may seem vulgar and unbecoming of women. Working in a highly sexualized environment, strippers use words such as pussy, cock, cum, tits, jugs, ass, and other graphic “unlady-like” words to describe themselves and custies (i.e. customers). Strippers generally speak to each other bluntly and uninhibited, often using explicit language with customers and with each other. When I first started working at the Lusty, a mere three months ago, it was quite a shock for me to hear industry insight like “Try to be coy if a custie tells you to touch your ass, mouth, or pussy on stage, BUT DON’T DO IT” or to hear extensive, lewd commentary about odd customer behavior, but I have learned that it would be unnatural for dancers to use proper medical terms for body parts and bodily functions and have come accustomed to hearing them spoken as such.

As the Lusty Lady is first and foremost a business with the need to be taken seriously and competitive in the business world, the dancers, especially those who are part of the cooperative, must have sufficient knowledge of standard business terminology and theories. Within the co-op we have an official Board of Directors in charge of finance and business plans, bylaws, and insurance and licensing, a Public Representation leader and committee in control of media and press, individual co-op members who take it upon themselves to pass proposals, and various smaller committees who are obligated to project information about our business with other businesses, some sexually oriented while others are not, the City of San Francisco, insurance brokers, lawyers, the State of California, and handfuls of business associations. In addition, the Madams, the elected administrative management for the dancers, use formal business language to communicate scheduling, resolve conflict, and deal with the day to day responsibilities of the office using phrases like “time management” and “product averages.”

Although business terms and phrases are important when formally representing the Lusty as a business and stripper lingo is appropriate when speaking to other strippers, often Lusties vocalize themselves as activists. By working in a unionized cooperative many Lusties believe they are participating in a larger fight against capitalism or “the man” and use words like “us,” to describe co-op workers, versus “them,” corporations or non-unionized businesses, and to emphasis our equity and solidarity. Discussion topics for activists may include (but are not limited to): worker exploitation, going green, suffrage, union enrollment, political affiliation or lack thereof, etc. In most cases they often express a sense of urgency and positivism, their language peppered with a desire to change things both within the cooperative and without. At a Gay Pride parade in SF some of these Lusties made signs which read “Hoes Up, Pimps Down” and “Union Forever,” which both express activist idealism to the rest of the world.

While stripper, business, and activist language may seem to be incompatible with one another, combinations of the three are used by individuals at the Lusty Lady at any given time. Often during Board of Director meetings workers use stripper lingo to describe a specific incident they see at the venue, use activist language to propose what the want to see done about the incident, and write a formal minute about the discussion using business structure and words. In the dressing room, one may hear a Lusty dancer making plans to create new signs for a union meeting using explicit words, describing the next PR photo shoot both in terms of audience outreach with graphs and statistics for the support of ideas and possible graphic female body content, or hear a new coop member propose changing the logo to read “Live Tits and Ass” in the same sentence as “requirements matrix,” “technical volume,” and “cost volume.” If an outsider were to eavesdrop on a meeting or even on a conversation on stage, they would be surprised by the amount of formal business language used by naked (probably) strippers in the context of political activism.

Although I have only worked at the Lusty a few months the language has become natural and safe for me. In the outside world, beyond the red walls of the Lusty Lady building, it does take a mental adjustment to switch from explicit (taboo) stripper lingo to the medical, unsexual vernacular of most people. While many people code switch between dialects that are very similar to each other and between dialects that they have been formally taught, I do not have such a privilege; As the Lusty Lady grows with the addition and subtraction of different dancers and their ideas and changes with the influence of elements outside our control, so too does the language with which we use to describe the business, ourselves, and the world we live in.

Apologies

2010-04-07T20:29:00.000-07:00

Oh Diary, I am so sorry I kept you waiting. At the moment I am just finding it a bit hard to balance the different parts of me. Barbie is lucky, having her different personalities split into different dolls....wouldn't it be nice if I could have a student Sandy, peepshow Sandy, casual-relaxed Sandy, and an all-around attentive Sandy? However unfortunate, life-size-replicas of myself (especially functional ones!) are impossibly and I must roll with the punches.

But back to the balancing act...I am aware that things are about to even themselves out. I will be graduating, moving, and working harder then ever. Recently I have applied to work with the Crashpad Series, a progressive queer-alternative porn company, and will hopefully have the opportunity to work with them soon. I will be keeping my Sandy Bottoms identity there as well if anyone was concerned....

In addition to all this commotion I have been striving to maintain a balanced sense of mind by eating better, dancing more which is such good exercise, and sifting through my alternate egos to find my real self from time to time. Friends beware; I apologize now for my tardiness and sincerely will try to the best of my ability to maintain some sort of consistency for you and myself, but I fear with life being as frazzled as it is I might not stick to it as well as I could.

Is this thing on?

2010-03-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

Please allow me to step up to the mic to introduce myself. My name, ahem, stage name is Sandy Bottoms and am currently a dancer at the SF Lusty Lady and a student at a local four-year university, studying history and law. But all of this is neither here nor there, and while background information about me may be interesting (or not), some can be found in the About Me section and will be weaseled away in future posts. Instead let me introduce some of my hopes, desires, and intentions, which I find to be much more relevant for an opening.

In the near future I hope to graduate from school while maintaining a scandalous, positive, and healthy head space when it comes to my sex-related work, which I indulge in voraciously. I desire to keep the sparks flying between myself and my long-time sweetheart, create and explore new partners and friendships, and indulge in my many, and varied, whims and fantasies. Finally, I intend to take risks in my ventures, exhibiting myself to the world as I am.

And here is where you come in Dear Diary and prospective audience: I want you to help me witness it all. Through this blog I want to have a concrete record of my projected glories and tribulations, a space for my ideas and thoughts to be aired and tested by myself and others, and a forum through which others may offer their own constructive predictions/suggestions/criticisms/support based upon their own experiences. With this I shall begin on what I can only hope to be at minimum a very interesting exhibition of myself.