Saturday, May 17, 2008
Allison entreats me to find my G-spot and Jasmine discovers David's big secret.
Dec 23, 1999 | Dec. 23, 1999
Wednesday, October 27
Allison was more than happy to tell us about Roxana Blair, her latest mentor. "Come to Roxana's workshop on Sunday," Allie proposed. "I'd like you both to experience" -- there was a beatific pause -- "the healing force in my life."
Roxana is an ex-hooker who runs a series of workshops -- Retrieving the Lost Slut is one of them -- in the East Village. Jasmine was unimpressed by Allison's descriptions.
"A bunch of whiny chicks looking for their G-spots," she said. "If it's that hard to find, maybe it's not worth the trouble. That's something I learned on my second Easter-egg hunt -- at the age of 5! Your friend Roxana has these women convinced they'll be totally unfulfilled if they don't shell out $100 to join her vaginal search party. Well, she's obviously better at hustling other women than she is at doing business with men! And what makes her think she can represent hookers?"
"She's empowering women by helping to heal the Madonna-whore disorder in this culture. We all have a goddess within us -- "
"So, do you get a discount when you bring extra bodies to this New-Age pussy klatch? Like at the health club?"
"I'll share the discount between us three -- "
"Aha. Well, I know where everything is, thanks. Nancy doesn't need a tour guide, either, to locate her -- "
"You don't speak for Nancy," Allison interrupted.
"I, uh, can't take off my panties in a room like that with a lot of women I don't even know," I explained, tactfully.
"But this is how we all get to know each other!" Allison said.
"It's on Avenue A," I pointed out. "You know I get a nosebleed when I go to the East Village. And Sunday's Halloween! The traffic down there will be awful!" To appease Allie, I promised to consider meeting Roxana -- over dinner, perhaps.
Thursday, October 28
This morning, in preparation for Milton's appointment, I called Allie: "Don't forget to bring your strap-on," I reminded her.
"I, um, threw it out last summer because of Zack," she explained. She didn't want her meddlesome ex-boyfriend to find it. "And I haven't replaced it. These phallic sex toys are so disempowering ... for men, too! Masculinity is in crisis, you know."
"Milton's masculinity is not in crisis," I said. I was tempted to boast about the large, reassuring envelope he recently delivered. "He just likes to watch two girls playing around with a dildo. It's something he doesn't do at home."
"Well," she said, "what happened to your strap-on?"
I didn't want to admit that I threw mine out, too -- my boyfriend had been spending too much time in my apartment. After all the lectures I've given Allison about how to keep a boyfriend at bay, the truth might sound a little wimpy. Talk about a masculinity crisis.
"It got scuffed by some boxes when I was tidying up," I lied. "I'll go out and get a new one."
Friday morning
Yesterday's appointment went better than expected. When the buzzer rang, I warned Allison: "We're going straight into the bedroom. No talking! We'll discuss all your interesting new ideas after Milt leaves." The subject of goddesses and disempowered dildo-worshippers never came up.
Allison did most of the work, so it was a bit like a paid vacation. But I found myself missing the very thing I once gave Milt such a hard time about -- kissing. Our sessions alone have been less lewd, more tender. Watching me plunder Allison with a dildo satisfies his need for variety. I never thought I could have tender feelings for a guy who wants me to wear something so vulgar and silly as a strap-on ... how on earth did this happen?
After Milt left, Allison tried to convince me that I should meet Roxana this weekend -- to discuss a four-day conference they'll both be attending in San Francisco.
"Sex Working the Millennium -- SWIM for short," she explained. "Roxana's a very talented performance artist and everyone's coming to see her one-woman slide show. She says Anabel Weston might be the keynote speaker. She wants everyone to show support for Anabel and she'll make sure you get the conference rate on your hotel room."
"Why does Roxana want me there? She's never even met me," I said, wrinkling my nose. "And why does she want me to get involved with some tacky madam from California who advertises? Anabel Weston's caused a lot of trouble for me, indirectly. I don't even know her and I'd like to keep it that way." I stripped the work sheet off my bed and bundled it up, then gathered all the condom wrappers for the trash. "It's wonderful that you've found something you really care about, Allie, but I don't want or need to be part of this."
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