I didn’t intend to update this blog so often…but strange shit keeps happening to me!
Finally, I’m going to sprinkle this EXTRAORDINARILY titillating blog entry with photos from my Caesars Palace shoot with the amazing Jeremy Pollack. You know, the American Psycho coffee table guy! He sent me a whole bunch of shots from our session, and they came out great.
But enough about the past — the present is waaaaay more interesting! Since starting this blog, my modeling has picked up quite a bit. Today I went on an all-day photo safari in the desert with a photographer from L.A. who had read my guide to shooting nudes around Vegas. He wanted to shoot at a couple of different locations, so last night I got out my trusty pink Samsonite and started piling in outfits, props and assorted scraps of lingerie. You’d think that with as many photo shoots as I do, I’d run out of ideas — but you haven’t seen my closet! I have an obscene amount of clothing.
Even so, I’ve been shooting SO much lately that I’ve been having to scrape around the bottom of the barrel for stuff I haven’t already worn to death. I found this little apron that a friend gave me once that says “Cherry Pie” on it, and one thing led to another…next thing you know I had this really cool idea for a conceptual photo of me in my apron and curlers, smoking a cig and sweeping the desert floor.
My only problem was that my broom is yellow…and that just didn’t match the red Cherry Pie motif. So even though I was running late, I made time to stop at the Dollar Store by my house to get a red broom. Yes, I’m a perfectionist!
While at the Dollar Store, I also picked up a red bra for the same shot…and a pair of jeggings! I’ve been wanting a pair of jeggings for AGES: I find the concept a half-assed, fat-assed, shudderingly slothful sign of our times… i.e. AWESOME! Can’t wait to do a shoot in them! I also picked up a smokin’ hot pair of zebra print leggings and some big clip-on flowers for my hair. Gotta love the Dollar Store! It’s the only place a perpetually broke hustler like me can afford to shop!
Then I busted ass over to the Cosmopolitan to meet the photographer for the drive out to the desert. We had agreed to meet up in the lobby, so I ran in with my suitcase and broom in tow like a true Beverly Hillbilly. Those trendy hipsters at the Cosmo were definitely shooting me an askance glance or two from behind their pretentious big black plastic-framed nerd glasses. WHATEVS! I have a love/hate relationship with that place.
Anyway, the shoot went great and we got some fabulous shots (soon to be posted here), but time kinda got away from us and the photographer ended up having to haul ass back into town, just barely in time to drop me off at work. I was so crunched for time that I had to change into my bra and panties at a stoplight, and had to leave my car at the Cosmo.
On my break, I had to walk back over to the Cosmo to get my car, and I tried to take a shortcut through the maze of subterranean tunnels beneath Caesars Palace. I figured there had to be a way I could cut underground and come up somewhere near the south side of Caesars, from which it would just be a hop, skip and a jump to the Cosmo.
But those tunnels under Caesars really are a maze! I swear, you could walk around for days and not find your way out. That’s what happens when you build a mega-resort piecemeal over a 40-year period…I LOVE IT! I ended up following my intuition, and taking a turn here and a turn there until I wound up in an elevator that let me out in….the middle of PURE nightclub! It wasn’t open yet, so the place was brightly lit, quiet and strangely douche-bag-free. There wasn’t even any piss, puke or amniotic fluid on the floors yet.
“Wow, how did I end up HERE?” I asked aloud, feeling even more Beverly Hillbilly-ish in my flip-flops and shorts as some guy in a suit glared at me witheringly and replied…”I don’t know, but I’ll show you how to get out!”
Jeez! Good day, Sir — it’s not MY fault your doucher club is on the outs and none of the cool kids like to party there anymore. Used to be PURE was the shit, and the mooks and bachelorettes were piled up forty deep trying to get in. Now, it’s strictly Chub City. And yes…I am being a hater here. I have a LONG memory, and I remember QUITE WELL the unspeakably rude way the doormen there treated me many a time. Fuck ‘em all! I wish the IRS would raid them AGAIN!
Well anyway, enough about that looong and tiring day. That’s not even what I really wanted to tell you about! I had a MUCH more interesting photo shoot on Memorial Day. But this one didn’t come from Model Mayhem…it came from FetLife!
FetLife is like the Facebook for the fetish community, and I created a profile on there long ago in a misguided attempt at becoming a Dominatrix. I still have a profile up, and pervs email me now and then with random proposals: Will you beat me, Mistress? Will you humiliate me? How much would you charge to come to my room and vacuum me head-to-toe with a vacuum attachment?? (This last one REALLY HAPPENED…but alas I pussed out and didn’t do it).
Well, now some guy advised me that he was coming to town from NYC and was looking to hire foot models for a photo shoot in his room. I replied that I was available, at which he inquired as to the cleanliness of my feet: “Are they dirty? Do you go barefoot a lot?”
I figured that if he was asking, he must dig dirty feet…so I replied (truthfully) that yes, I enjoy going barefoot, and yes, my feet were dirty. So we agreed to shoot in his room at an off-Strip hotel at 2pm. Before I left, I ran 3 miles in a pair of sweaty old gym sox and then wallowed around in a mud puddle in my front yard, just for good measure. I aim to please!
So I rolled into this guy’s hotel room with my trusty pink Samsonite full of outfits and different types of sandals (per his request), and we began. The guy was not bad to look at; a young, sort of mookish cross between Ricky Ricardo and the guys from Jersey Shore. Interestingly, he had Jersey Shore re-runs playing on the TV the entire time, which was incidentally the first time I’ve seen the show.
We had agreed on a 2-hour shoot, so for the first hour I just sat in an armchair watching Jersey Shore as he shot pictures of my feet from every conceivable angle. Cake! The second hour, things got a little weirder as he handed me a video camera and asked me to record him “worshipping” my feet; i.e. licking and sucking every particle of dirt and grime off them!! He went to town, even going so far as to deep-throat my entire foot (he especially enjoyed my high arches and long, “beautiful” toes). By the time he was done, they were squeaky clean again (if not a bit slobbery).
Now, you might find the prospect of having your toes sucked by a strange man repulsive, but I’ve been going to these monthly foot fetish parties (Footnight.com…more on which in a subsequent blog) for years…and while I don’t exactly ENJOY it, the squeamishness has long ago worn off. So I just laid back and watched some more Jersey Shore while he did his thing. Who the hell am I to judge?!
The last five minutes of the shoot, however, were the strangest of all. He had asked me to bring an all-black outfit, into which he now had me change for a little light ball-busting! Yes that’s right — he had me kick him in the nuts, REPEATEDLY, for five minutes! He was clothed, and was not aroused (the toe of my high heel can attest to that)…but he seemed to enjoy being kicked square in the balls. Again, I aim to please…so I aimed high and gave him quite a few good whacks.
I never thought I’d enjoy causing someone pain…but it was actually kinda fun. I think I ruined the Domme effect, though, by pausing to ask with genuine concern if he was OK when he keeled over in agony. D’oh!!
Anyhooz, I did such a good job that he gave me a 25% tip on top of the hourly rate we’d agreed upon. Not bad for an afternoon’s work! And, he asked me if I would consider having a slave…as in, would I belittle, humiliate and ball-bust him on a regular basis when he comes out from NYC!
I told him I’d think about it…but honestly, that’s a little too weird, even for me. And besides… I already have a new, even freakier gig lined up!!
I was surfing craigslist when I saw an ad for “Atmosphere Models.” Usually, that’s when they pay you to dress up all hot and go hang out at a party full of stuffed-shirt conventioneers…you know, to add a little spice to the mix. But THIS gig went one better! After I submitted my pics and bio, they emailed me back with the full story: their client had hired them to provide a model to go to dinner with one of the client’s potential business partners (this potential business partner is involved in an emerging industry that’s all over the news these days). The client is trying to get an inside edge on the potential business partner, and lure him into a multi-million-dollar deal… so over the course of a 3-hour dinner, the model is to flirt and chit-chat and find out as much information as possible about the potential business partner and his business — without giving away that she was hired — and then go home and write up a dossier with all the info gleaned, for the client. FUN!!!
I emailed them back RIGHT AWAY saying that yes, I was interested…so hopefully they book me for it! It sounds very Anna Chapman…just the kind of thing I dig, and muuuuuch more fun than hanging out at a party full of beer distributors (which was one lamentable atmosphere modeling gig I did). If they do book me, it’ll make a great blog entry…so stay tuned!
P.S. Lest you think I’m a freak…I did go on a couple super-nice, wholesome dates this past week with a very nice, normal, All-American Hero. We did stuff like hike and play pinball and eat pancakes…so don’t worry about my soul. I’m just trying to pay my mortgage
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