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Monday, May 7, 2007

HOWTO: “Fantasy Sex” Me

filed under: HOW TO: by Melissa Gira | 1 Comment

We’ve been a bit stolen away by the DC Madam case, but this week return with an especially topical HOWTO, on her favorite non-sex act, ‘fantasy sex.’ (Now with teeshirt available, step right up.)

There’s certainly a tantalizing polarity embedded in the idea of “fantasy sex,” that oldie-but-nasty fantasy vs. reality argument. We’re not really going to come out on one side of the futon or the other here, but we are going to push a bit in the direction of froth, fiction, and mindfucking.

Cheap talk. You can have twice the sex in half the time if you dirty talk about doing one thing while doing something else entirely. Bonus here is that you can talk a streak about sex you don’t even know if you want to have, or is even humanly possible, and get off on the earth plane at the same time. Extra bonus: that spoken word sex may also prove to be a preview of things to come, and can be an ingeniously smutty way to hear a very uncensored version of what’s going on in your lover’s head.

Mobile content provision. Fantasy sex can be executed by SMS & chat in all those places your body can’t get as blatantly off in: at a cafe, in an office building elevator, riding a streetcar, crossing the street. Caution, IM-on-the-phone users. Thumb fast and hard, and save the transcripts for stroke fodder later.

Less latex required. Whole new safer sex terrain opens for fantasy sex games. The only rubber choices you might need to make will be whether to buy off-the-rack or request custom couture.

Shakespeare was down. All the world’s a stage, etc. etc., so prop that up as strength to put on a cockier, sassier performance. Even Foucault was all about the production of sex. With fantasy sex, you can give a good live bed show, without pressure to play any one sexual part all the time.

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Johns Gone Wild: A Full, Unrushed Month’s Phone Records with Complete Release

filed under: Strange Bedfellows by Melissa Gira | 3 Comments

There’s all kinds of fancy-pants sidestepping in the business of selling sex, as this bit in the Hartford Courant, where reporters called up an escort service to ask what they could get, reveals quite plainly:

“Service,” she said, would cost $200 an hour.

What do you get for that?

“It’s full service,” she said.

Can you say specifically what that involves?

“I don’t get into specifics,” the unidentified woman said, sounding annoyed. “It’s full service. That should be specific enough.”

One of the ingenious by-products of the criminalization of prostitution is a whole secret sexual vocabulary that make hiring a sex worker, or negotiating with a client, tantamount to a erotic espionage. For some, this is the turn-on of the trade: slipping down (it’s always down) into a shadow society for a time, costumes and fantasy and all.

So does it break some some sacred spy compact, then, to go public with one’s client records? Are sex workers a sexual clergy, oathbound to a client’s secrets, or really, are sex workers more akin to double agents, whose allegiance, at the end of the day, is to their own cause and those who would support them?

In that context, here is the first page of alleged DC Madam Deborah Jean Palfrey’s phone records.