Sunday, April 23, 2006

3 Eroticas: The Alley

In my defense:
It was dark.
I couldn’t hear anything.
It’s not like I followed them.

So I can’t really tell it the way it happened.
I’m going to tell it the way I remembered it.

I was in bed, but not sleeping. I heard a voice - suddenly close - and I got up to look out my window. I banged my head against the glass, which somehow didn’t make them turn. Or maybe they turned in that 7 seconds I’d retreated to say fuck and rub my forehead.

I peeked through the blinds searching the alley below, behind my apartment.
That’s when I saw him kiss her. They kissed a lot. They kissed like they liked kissing. They broke every now and again, maybe for air, maybe to whisper something. Or maybe he just liked looking at her.

He pushed up her top – a long sleeved something with a hood – and fed from her. Just on one side. I wonder: if the air around you is a sharp four degrees, does a mouth on you feel hot? He knelt to kiss her stomach and she stroked his hair slowly, like you would a child. Then she turned round and undid her jeans.

He entered her but after he did, he didn’t move. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t expect that – him not moving. Him just staying there. Then she turned round and stepped out of her jeans like you step out of sneakers - one foot then the other and the sneakers staying in that same position like the wearer evaporated mid-stride.
I always thought it was something people did only in movies, fuck against the wall like that. I thought it was something directors did to show you how steamy and raw the sex was. You know, the girl’s ankles hooked around the guy’s ass as he thrust.
Not here. There wasn’t really a wall. Just a wooden fence with the slats real close together so there weren’t any gaps.

I don’t know if she called out towards the end. I couldn’t hear. There was the window. There was also the blood roaring in my ears, my scalp burning. When he finished, he let her down and as soon as her feet touched ground everything became rushed and furtive. She wriggled back into her jeans; they both looked around to see if anyone saw (after, but not during – weird); he motioned for her to hurry up.

If I close my eyes, I can still see him kneel.
I can still see him worship her with his lips.
And how he liked looking at her.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

3 Eroticas: The Movie

Ok, rewind.

Coupla years ago, a few of us at the magazine decided to watch a hardcore porn movie together. To this day, I can't recall why we thought it was a good idea. Or why we felt like it was like any other outing like dinner or company paintball.

Ok, fast-forward.

We’d just finished dinner at SS’s place and she was breaking out the alcohol. I don’t think she did it to make us braver or more relaxed or anything. Any gathering with SS had alcohol as a prerequisite (which is why I rarely attended). There wasn’t any preamble or small talk to lead up to the movie. SS just asked ‘So, shall we start?’
Enthusiastic nods all round, check.
Hardcore porn flick on VCD (DVD hadn’t come into vogue yet), check.
Dimmed lights? Check.

Ok, press play.

The movie was Tarzan X, with Rocco Siffredi playing Tarzan. I think you can guess the plot. Minutes later, Tarzan’s already making the two-backed chimpanzee with Jane. Personally, the whole making-chimp-sounds-while-fucking was a mood breaker. And him prodding around and preening Jane? Dude.
But I digress. Our little party had bigger problems.

The guys for one thing, all started looking around nervously for cushions. The men were definitely not as cool about this as we thought we were. I also noticed the parts the guys tended to look away or shift in their seats during the scenes where Tarzan was going down on Jane (I’m sorry to put it so indelicately, but I’m trying to get through this). They just had trouble dealing. One guy took to looking at magazines.
But the ladies. Well.

Ok, pause.

Rocco Siffredi doesn’t have a penis. I don’t mean he’s an amputee or anything. But a penis to me needs to at least look the part. Fit certain dimensions.
Rocco Siffredi has a baby’s arm where his ‘nads should be. As it turns out, the magazine I worked for ran an article on porn legends (‘The Monsters of Cock’) and Rocco comes in at 10-full inches (thankfully, no picture – to scale or otherwise).

And when he unleashed his caveman’s club, the girls let out this collective moan.

Ok, resume.

So. After about half an hour of seeing Rocco get with the monkey love, we see the tribe divide itself:
Fellatio shots: The girls lean forward, mouths slightly open. The guys find sudden fascination with floor / imaginary lint on clothes / old copies of Cosmo lying about.
Full-out-screaming fuck shots: The girls get closer together, occasionally whispering. The guys suddenly need to go the toilet, or out on the balcony for a smoke.
Money shots: The girls watch like it a baptism. The guys actually flinch like they were watching a dog getting fixed.

Ok, eject.

I think somewhere around the 40-minute mark, the guys were desperate for a way out. Everyone else was in some private psychological hell. So FB – the guy who brought the movie – said in a bored tone that wasn’t fooling anyone, “I’m bored. Maybe we should go to the mamak.” It was the opening we needed. We practically leapt from the couch (which had become like an island of sexual conservatism since it all began) and grabbed keys, sneakers, anything to get the hell out.

The girls were a bit surprised at first, but they’d prolly had enough as well (a girlfriend later told me girls are less prone to repeat viewings of porn cos ‘it’s all the same moves.’)

We all went to the mamak and by the time drinks arrived, we were ourselves again.
By ‘we’ I mean the guys. We slipped back into our usual macho bullshit (‘Seen better / Girl’s tits looked fake’).
But the girls were changed. They were smiling and distracted and all touchy-feely. Over this thing that was supposed to be the pissing ground of (straight) men, the women had bonded. I think as guys we’re definitely missing something valuable here. Something inherently different in the support of a female network. Something good.

Ok, stop.

Wait, rewind.

Later, FB called each of us to ask if we’d taken his Tarzan X VCD by accident.
Everyone said no.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

3 Eroticas: The Club

In the end, it was a girl who asked for us.

We had four guys – me included – and none of us had the stones to go and just ask where the nearest strip club was. FC – always brave and impulsive- asked a coupla guys standing outside a pub smoking. A 15-minute walk later, we were paying the cover charge.

The club was actually pretty nice, one of those modern retro type setups. Whoever commissioned the work had some taste. The girls danced on a stage that was lit from the bottom, kinda like a glowing runway. We bought a jug of beer and sat down.

Three girls came out, but I only remember one.
I remember her because she looked nice.

I don’t mean hot, though she was definitely that. Her body wasn’t gym-toned. It was more curvy. And I don’t know why, but it surprised me that her breasts were real. So yeah, she was hot. But that’s not what I meant.
I remember her cos she was nice.
Now I’m sure she’s met every single guy you can think of, knows every angle that can be played, so I’m not implying Julia Roberts-in-Pretty-Woman-heart-of-gold type stuff.

I meant that she didn’t seem like she wanted to strip for you. You felt more like she wanted to talk to you first. That if you wanted to, she’d pack up and meet you downstairs for coffee. Just give her 10 minutes ok? Oh my God, you like Alice Sebold too? That’s awesome!

There was this one guy, whom she straddled – yup, beautiful girl in a thong, right on your lap – who was completely in love with her. She used her hands, but not like you see in the movies. She swept back his hair, held his face. She didn’t turn round and reverse-cowboy him, or grind her hips like some Missy Elliot video.
She was a girlfriend.
And when she lifted herself off, I’ll bet you it felt like she was just going to the ladies. Or to get a drink. “I’m gonna come back ok? Just wait for me.”

And then she was in front of me.

Ever been to a show where the person on stage goes ‘I need a volunteer’ and then their eyes lock on you? That’s how it felt like. Her eyes volunteered me. She knelt on that runway with her back facing me. As she unhooked her bra, she turned to look at me and it felt like the most private thing in the world. Like third-base private. Like a girl showing herself to you for the first time private. She raised herself on her knees. Then the thong came down.

She knelt down a girl, but stood up a woman. Walking towards me as naked as birth, she then sat down on the edge of the stage where I was. She inched forward and all my seen-one-seen-em-all cover was blown away. All this girl did was move six inches closer and I turned into a little boy.

Then a wad of blue paper hit her face.

“I give you money! You fuck my friend!”

Some. Complete. ASSHOLE was getting in her face and making thrusting motions with his hips. He moved into our space for like, a second and that was it. We didn’t see him anymore. Two guards appeared from thin air or hyperspace or threw off their invisibility cloaks or whatever (cos they sure as fuck weren’t there before) and just yanked him out.

After that, we were so embarrassed we left.

She’d moved on.
She sat with her legs wide, one hand on the customer’s shoulder to steady herself, the other to sweep back her own red hair behind her left ear.
The woman she was sitting on glanced at me for a moment before the stripper gently turned her face back towards her.