On Holly Golightly
Upon seeing Breakfast At Tiffany’s again, I can’t say I’m as enamoured with this movie and with its centerpiece, Holly herself, as I once was. (Disclaimer - haven’t read the book. It’s very likely she’s more interesting in print, especially if she’s based on its author)
Beautiful and always stunningly dressed; childlike and free-spirited yet deeply vulnerable and in need of a protector; full of quirks and eccentricities, but only of the cute and harmless kind. She seems to my eyes now like a more modern and bohemian version of Madeleine, existing only to be watched, desired, and rescued, and to act as a muse. She’s been most recently reincarnated as Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
She and Madeleine aren’t women, even in the movie character sense; they’re things created from pens and cameras and shopping trips.
It’s a relief when Clementine speaks for herself, saying “I’m not a concept. Too many guys think I’m a concept or I complete them or I’m going to make them alive, but I’m just a fucked up girl who is looking for my own peace of mind.” If only all the other Holly Golightlies would say the same thing.
On Sex and Games
Susie Bright asks, in her post Poke the Doll - And Then What?:
I grew up with the first generation of boys who played Dungeons and Dragons. I always wondered how come that world wasn’t sexier. My own version of Dungeons and Barbies certainly had the erotic suspense element.
What do you think? Did you or do you ever play a computer-origin game that feeds your inner horny dragon?
Computer games were a big part of my childhood and of most of my friendships from that time. We didn’t play “official” D&D but enjoyed an ad-hoc version that we mostly made up as we went along.
It wasn’t until my late adolescence that I began wanting my computer games to be more erotic than they were. One of the big selling points of Baldur’s Gate II was the interactive “romances” that the player character could become involved in. The lovingly-crafted main character, representing the player, could engage in flirtations and eventually in sex (couched in PG-13 euphemisms) with a select few companions.
Unfortunately, the available “romance” plotlines numbered only four, with three of the four only for (presumably heterosexual) male characters.
The one romantic interest available for (again, heterosexual) female characters read as though the writer, embittered with women, had composed a list of What Women Want that read something like this:
Women Want:
1. Arrogant assholes with hints of vulnerability
2. Knights in Shining Armour
3. Rich Men
4. Men they can dream of changing for the better
Needless to say, the one available male romantic interest was not terribly interesting romantically, and female gamers were disappointed (Sequential Tart has a great article on the subject).
This is where user-created content saved the day. A group of dedicated fans managed to write their own plotlines and insert them into the game, not only creating more palatable male romantic interests but sexing up the original plotlines considerably.My favorite of the new characters was Solaufein, a brooding, philosophically-minded, Rimbaud-quoting dark elf whose dialogue was short on sexual explicitness but very high on eroticism. In addition, he would “romance” both male and female characters. I was so impressed with Solaufein that I even wound up developing quite a crush on his author, Westley Weimer.
As the Sequential Tart link above discusses, what was ultimately so disappointing about the sexual/romantic content on offer was that the idea was so full of promise. Even now, in my computer games, I find myself looking for opportunities to flirt with the in-game characters rather than chop them to bits with magical swords.
You’re Cute
Saw The Big Sleep for the second time last night. I’ve always loved film noir, but somehow never really got into the Bogie/Bacall genre.
The fact that everyone agrees that the movie is a great one despite the fact that the plot is pretty much incomprehensible is quite vindicating for me. Hell, I’ve even read the book and could only keep up with the movie for about the first 45 minutes. I’m always the person who can’t quite follow the plot when
watching a mob movie, and usually would rather not have it explained to me - as long as there are interesting faces and witty dialogue, I don’t need to know all the subtleties of why the guy in the hat killed the guy with the umbrella. If The Big Sleep can be a classic when even the critics are as mystified as I am, it means it’s legitimate to enjoy a movie this way.
Of course, Bacall was very alluring, with her tough, intelligent demeanor and wide, full mouth, sitting on a desk and fondling her hem. But I was just as intrigued by the two random women who come on to Bogie without provocation early in the movie, especially the girl at the rare book shop (the authentic one). Despite a small part including a cliched you’re-much-better-looking-without-your-glasses-and-your-hairpins sequence, she manages to match Bacall in brains and seductive assertiveness. I’m also into the taxi driver.
Excerpt from “Finishing School”
I was fortunate enough to grow up in times enlightened enough that I was never punished for being left-handed. My only punishment has been a mild awkwardness when using implements designed for the right-handed. I take a strange sort of pride in it, reading stories of how the left-handedness would, in the old days, be trained and beaten out of students. Of course, having ink stains on my hand is irritating at times, but after hearing how they used to be associated with the devil, homosexuality, and various other flavours of subversiveness, they feel almost like a badge of honour.
So, here’s a bondage story with a left-handed twist. It appears in its entirety Secret Slaves: Erotic Stories of Bondage, out this month from Alyson Books.
My heart sank as I realized what she meant. I had been writing with my left hand again, which the school had strictly forbidden, and the side of the offending hand was covered in telltale smudges of black ink. “You see? You have been writing incorrectly,” continued the schoolmistress. “Your teachers here, as well as myself, have constantly reminded you that for you to be a lady, it is necessary for you to learn to write in a style that reflects elegance and refinement. And yet, you continue to ignore our instructions, obeying us when in the classroom but flaunting your rebelliousness when out of it.”
“I am sorry, schoolmistress. It’s just that I find it difficult to –“
“– The left hand is the devil’s hand, Miss Elster, and makes an unholy mess of your hands and your papers. Surely you yourself can see the lack of decorum in a page that looks like this.” She held up a creased sheet of paper, the ink smears clearly visible.
My cheeks reddened and my heart began to pound as I recognized my own writing on the page, and realized that it was a letter I had been writing to my good friend Sara in the city. It was just a short note, nothing of consequence, but I was mortified by the thought that someone must have searched through my private papers in order to find it.
“Your handwriting is not the only reason you find yourself here. We shall discuss the other reasons soon enough. For the time being, I would like to impress upon you the seriousness of our requirements.”
Excerpt from “Can I Help You?”
Can I Help You? appears in Sexiest Soles: Erotic Stories about Feet and Shoes. I used to work in a women’s shoe store, and much of the setting for the story draws upon my experiences working there. It’s strange, the mindset I got into when so much of my time was focused on selling. Expending so much energy convincing strange women that a specific pair of shoes was the key to beauty and happiness made me start to convince myself of the same, and it reached the point where a beautiful pair would make my heart begin to pound, thinking of the kind of woman it would make of whoever chose to wear them. Here’s an excerpt from the story:
There were exactly thirty-seven minutes left on the clock when I was jolted out of my boredom by the sight of a black-suited, bob-haired young woman striding through the glass doorway. She was tall, intimidatingly so, and I noted with interest that she hadn’t forsaken the towering heels shunned by more timid women of her height. She was dressed quite professionally, but something in her walk and the cut of her clothes hinted obliquely at more hedonistic pursuits. She was wearing no makeup except on her lips, which were painted a deep wine color that drew attention to their plushness. Her skirt ended just above the knee, with a cut slender enough to suggest the curve of her hips, and her legs were sheathed with nude stockings of a very fine fishnet.
As was my habit with customers, I stole a few glances at her shoes. She wore unadorned black pumps with a pencil heel and a pointed toe that glowed with the muted sheen of expensive leather. As she walked they flashed hints of their red, polished soles, and they were cut low enough in front to expose the cleft between her toes Though pumps with heels like those presented themselves as respectable black dress shoes, they often turned their wearers into little girls playing dress-up, giggling or shrieking as they stumbled about the store. This woman, however, wore them with expert grace and precision, her unflinching steps not betraying the slightest degree of discomfort.
Women like this – professional, rushed, and clearly shoe-savvy – were often good for fast and easy commissions, just enough to buy a decent meal and a glass of wine. But there was something else on my mind as I approached her with a smile on my lips, ready to offer my assistance. I felt my anxious student self begin to peek out from behind some corner in my mind, wondering what it would be like to share a drink with her and later join her in her hotel room.
Books are out!
Sexiest Soles: Erotic Stories About Feet and Shoes
and
Secret Slaves: Erotic Stories of Bondage
have been released!
Co-editor Rachel Kramer Bussel has been posting excerpts from many of the stories on her blog, as well as photos of beautiful shoes and undies (there’s a third book in the series: Ultimate Undies: Erotic Stories of Underwear and Lingerie).
My story Can I Help You? appears in the shoe book, and Finishing School appears in the bondage book. I can’t wait to read the other stories!
No Panties
After Belle de Jour last week, I’ve now seen Basic Instinct for the first time, whose erotic scenes are perhaps even more frequently referenced. A friend who reached puberty in the early 90’s claims that it had a formative effect on his sexuality. I began the movie expecting to laugh, but found myself completely engrossed in both the suspense and the eroticism.
The lover of old movies in me was tickled by the frequent references to Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, a favorite of mine. Both movies are very sexual, but in different ways - Basic Instinct contains several scenes meant to arouse the viewer, whereas Vertigo is, to me, more an exploration of the nature of obsessive desire and what drives it rather than an immediate turn-on.
Indeed, the view of sex in Vertigo usually leaves me in a sober state, wondering if happiness and desire can ever co-exist. And of course, I wind up watching it over and over again.