Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Darklady (Crush or Fetish, Part Two)

This was intended to be posted way back on August 19th. It’s been mostly written since about that time. It mentions ‘upcoming’ events that have already happened here in real time. I’m leaving it like that because . . . well, just because I’m quirky, I guess.

In today’s post, I talk about Darklady, who is the object of my affection. Wait, is that right? Affection? Hmm. Erotic infatuation? Obsession? I don’t know. How about this: She is a living, breathing sexual fetish for whom I am a fetishist.

She is the Darklady, and she is one of my two current ‘fetish crushes’.

Who Is the Darklady?

The Darklady. Just who is she?

She is an erotic multimedia whirlwind. She’s one of those infamous movers-and-shakers. She’s a salacious empress with a naughty little empire.

Theresa “Darklady” Reed. Sex writer. (Journalist. Columnist. Blogger. Critic. Author of two produced porn screenplays, and a bunch of erotic stories.)

She’s an internet radio personality, a public speaker, a workshop presenter and panel discussion moderator. Party throwing genius and fundraising wizard. Coalition-builder. Et cetera and ad infinitum.

She was Ms. Oregon State Leather 2004, and a competitor for the 2005 Ms. World Leather title. Libertarian candidate for the Oregon House of Representatives in 2002 and Oregon Senate in 2004. She's been a member of the board of directors (ranging from generic board member to vice-chair) for a number of boards covering a variety of interests from business and politics free speech concerns and the BDSM community.

(Now, I don’t believe that a person is simply the sum of their credentials, but seriously . . . who wouldn’t adore a person that could boast the aforementioned resume? If we were the same sex, she’d be the answer to the question, “What do I want to be when I grow up?”)

She was once in a car wreck that caused her death. Three times. Luckily, they were able to revive her each time she died, And to the best of my knowledge, she hasn’t died since.

[I think that it’s completely unrelated to her death and resurrection, but she also has a group of followers. The Darklings – who aid and abet her in throwing her sexy parties – strike me as being less 'Disciples of the Resurrected One' and more 'Band of Merry Men (and Women)'.]

I want to know more about her. I want to sit and converse with her. But that doesn’t seem likely. Why? Well . . .

The Quest For Darklady

One of the more (personally) frustrating factors regarding Darklady is my near-complete inaccessibility to her. And not just because she lives in Portland and poor transportationless me lives umpteen towns away, either. The story begins thus:

I think that my discovery of the existence of Darklady was when I became aware of what would have been her (then upcoming) third annual Masturbate-a-Thon. It was held in May (I’m assuming) of 2003, and I SO wanted to go to that event.

The first Darklady party I actually attended was her late Halloween party in November of 2008. Between the 2003 Masturbate-a-Thon and the 2008 Halloween party, I wanted to attend every Darklady event that I heard about. Twice I almost went to one. On one of those occasions, the person I was going to go with called it off over a month in advance. The other time was when I was all set to attend the 2008 Masturbate-a-Thon, but lost my ride the day before the event.

Several years ago, I started seeing her name appear as a guest and panelist for OryCon (Oregon’s annual science-fiction convention). Starting in the early 90s, there was about a four or five year stretch where Casper (not his real name) and I would hit OryCon every year. Then my brother and I – usually accompanied by Zorch (not his real name, either) – hit a couple of OryCons in the early 00s. This ‘Darklady’ person I’d been trying to meet waited until I wasn’t going any more (still lots of interest in the con, but no money/no ride) before she became part of the show.

I’m told that Darklady’s influence at the con has finally created a late night ‘adult’ panel programming track. Something I’d always wished that OryCon would’ve had when I was attending.

(I’ve given thought to attending this year, but . . . my brother doesn’t have the money to go – or to lend me so I can go – and by time the convention gets here, his baby will be just a little over two months old, so that kind of nixes that. Huh. I wonder what Zorch is doing in November? Oh, Zo-orch . . .?)

In addition to her great big sex-positive parties, she also throws smaller events. Once or twice a month there’s a ‘Dinner and Porn Social’ where guests gather for a meal and to watch a themed porn double feature. The night before Valentine’s Day she ran a Quickie Dating-type party. She’s had a couple of ‘Naughty Karaoke’ events, as well as a couple of Erotic Open Mic nights. I’ve been to a grand total of none of these.

I’ve wanted to attend everything. But I always feel like a burden when I have her trying to find me a ride to one of her events. So I try and do that sparingly. I would definitely have tried to get in on the Open Mic stuff, had it not been that on both occasions I was away from internet access from before the announcement/invitation until after the event.

She’s got an internet radio show (“Darklady’s Sexpose”) on I’ve never listened to it. Even if it did air when the library was open, I’m not sure that it would be ‘appropriate subject matter’ for the monks and seminary students milling about the library whose internet I use.

A weekly dose of Darklady’s voice, interviewing people from some branch of the sex community tree? Yes, please! But it doesn’t seem to be archived anywhere. In fact, I managed to stumble upon links to archives of her previous radio show from back around 2006, but both of the archives I’ve found for that are non-functional. Le sigh.

I do follow her on Twitter. But my lack of personal internet access usually means that on the occasions that I do make it up to the library, I get several days (sometimes as much as weeks) worth of tweets of hers to read through at once. There are usually a number of tweets of hers that I would have responded to, had I been able to do so in a timely fashion. But when the tweet in question is four days (or better) old, whatever oddball comment I have in mind doesn’t really seem appropriate.

She’s also got an anatomically correct action figure line, complete with removable outfits, accessories, and scale model sextoys. Plus a Darklady Estates playset and the Darkladymobile. Actually, I’m making that up. She really doesn’t. But wouldn’t it be cool if she did? Chances are, though, if these toys existed, they’d sell out before I found them, and my only chance would be searching eBay and paying ten times MSRP.

Three Times, and (Thus Far) Three Times Only

I have now encountered Darklady a grand total of three times. And, I’ve been at three of her parties. Go figure.

I finally got to meet her when I attended the “Harvest Festival of Hedonism Late Season Polyween Party”.

When I introduced myself, she remembered me from an email I’d sent her weeks earlier. (Which probably didn’t mark me as special so much as it marked me as having chosen a weird-but-memorable scene name. I doubt she remembers every Bob, Sam, and Zeitgeist the Clown that have sent her email. But really, one out of three was all I was hoping for using that example.)

I think that I probably spent most of that party with some sort of deer-in-the-headlights-stare (‘headlights’ in this instance NOT a euphemism for breasts), although I did eventually loosen up and play with a nice pair of headlights (information from previous set of parenthesis no longer applies), as well as get to suck on my first set of bare female toes.

My second Darklady event was her New Year’s Eve Party, which was – for me, anyway – shortlived and eventful. I arrived late, left early, had a full-blown seizure at some point between arrival and departure . . . and then there was the kiss . . .

First things first, though. As I was sitting there twitching, trying very hard not to start seizing, Darklady came over and sat down next to me, making sure that I was all right. I explained there was about a 50% chance that I’d be having a seizure soon, and she asked if there was anything she could do. There wasn’t, but she did continue to sit and talk with me for awhile. At some point after she left to resume her hostessing duties, 50 rose to 100, and I went ahead and hit the ground, seizing and convulsing.

I mentioned a kiss . . . Once it was officially 2009 here on the west coast, Darklady circulated around the party, dispensing New Year’s Kisses. When she approached me, sheer panic with my whole kissing situation (mouth full of bad teeth, limited-to-no kissing experience, extreme self-consciousness over all things smooch-oriented) caused me to attempt to plant one on her cheek. But she was having none of that.

She pressed her lips against mine, and kissed me. I kissed back, as much as I could, all the while thinking, “Jeezum Fucking Crow, I’m physically interacting with DARKLADY!” Then, with me having been well and truly kissed, she moved on.

This incident put two thoughts in my head that remain there to this day. The first of those is, “Darklady now thinks of me as ‘that lousy kisser with the bad teeth’.” The other thought is, “If I ever get my teeth fixed –“ (my dentist’s office staff is still fighting with the insurance company over whether or not I can get an upper denture plate) “—I wonder if I could persuade Darklady to teach me how to kiss?”

[Before writing this post, I reread a bunch of her old blog posts, and came upon the following chunk of text: “. . . French kissing, which I consider to be something of a litmus test, actually. Experience has taught me that if you can’t make my mouth happy, it’s unlikely you’ll make much else happy.” Doomed, I am! Doomed!]

Before Darklady’s 9th Annual Masturbate-a-Thon – The Solo Sex Circus happened, I had somehow become named ‘The Official Portland Masturbate-a-Thon Solo Sex Circus Clown’ by the Dark One herself. (It may have something to do with the fact that I spent all of National Masturbation Month announcing each time I jacked off on Twitter. Also the fact that I was too broke at the time to pay the entry fee, and being a semi-official guest of the ’circus came with free admission. This was another time I was glad I’d picked the scene name I did, as I suppose that ‘Zeitgeist the Accountant’ wouldn’t have been as good a fit with the circus theme and all.)

Darklady and I ran into one another a few times during the Masturbate-a-Thon party. Our first encounter was mainly her checking to confirm that it was indeed me underneath the fully encompassing headmask I wore in lieu of clown make-up. But later on in the party, I tried my hand at flirting with her a few times.

I honestly think that I kiss better than I flirt. [Which is to say, I don’t think I flirt well at all.] Can’t flirt, can’t recognize flirting when (or if) it is directed back at me. When I ask my brain for flirting material, what it hands me is usually far less subtle and way more sexual than I think is probably called for. Of course, I never realize that until afterwards.

[Is there a forthcoming post about my inability to flirt and/or recognize flirting? Probably. It’s just a question of exactly what ‘forthcoming’ means as an implied measurement of time.]

A fourth encounter is forthcoming. Her next party takes place on the 5th of September, and I’m currently attempting to secure a ride.

So, What Makes Darklady a Fetish Crush?

The fetish crush, as I’ve outlined it, comes in two basic forms. The first of these is when you take the classic ‘crush’ and fetishize it. Turning the basic unit of innocent infatuation into a kink for a dirty pervert’s fun. Whee!

The second form of the fetish crush is simply the crush of a fetishist. Not just, “I really like you,” but, “I really like you . . . and I’d like to suck on your toes and have you pee on me.” Etc.

My relationship with Darklady (yes, I’m currently referring to the conjunction of A.) ‘my interest in her’; and, B.) ‘the fact of her existence’ as a relationship for the moment – mainly because it’s an easy word to use) is a little bit of both. It’s partly a crush that’s been fetishized, and partly the crush of a fetishist.

I’ve got a crush on Darklady. And since she’s this incredible sexual entity, it’s almost automatically a fetish crush. But honestly, I’m focusing on – and fetishizing as a result of putting that serious focus on – the crush. Why? Hmm. Good question.

I know of Darklady. Met her three times now. And while I believe in the reality of things like lust at first sight and instant infatuation, I’m pretty sure that the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing is a phenomenon restricted to fictional characters.

I have these feelings for Darklady. Have had since I first met her at the 2008 Halloween party. And knowing that it couldn’t possibly be love, it must be a crush. Right? Sure I’m right. So I hang onto this whole crush thing with a weird deathgrip. And since I’m older than the playground hand-holding-(but-kissing-is-icky) yearning for the girl on the swings (or whereever) . . . it’s the fetish crush.

That’s the fetishized crush in a nutshell. Crush of a fetishist . . . that one goes shell-less, unless we can find a BIG nut somewhere.

Way back when, during a conversation about the opposite sex, someone asked me a question about what my type was, and I answered, ‘Yes’.

It’s not that I don’t have a type. It’s that I have more than one. (Several. Many.) If I gave it serious thought, I think it would be easier to list the couple of types that I DON’T go for.

As far as body types go, I like bodies, and Darklady’s got one. She’s nicely curved, and has used terms like ‘plush’ and ‘plump’ to describe herself. I like a woman with (as the euphamism goes) a little meat on her bones. She’s hot and sexy. (And her physical form is made even more so by the intelligence and personality driving it around.)

I love ideas, and I love clever phrasing, and normally when I find it, I think to myself, “Cool.” (Or more often, “Shiny”.) But when I hear the ideas and the smart piece of dialogue from the Dark One, my immediate thought is, “I want her.” [Like when she was having a discussion on Twitter about being atheist, and described it thusly: “Frankly, I'm pretty much like a monotheist except I believe in one less god. ;-)” I want her.]

I don’t know if I’ve got a ‘thing’ for women wearing glasses, or if it’s just that a number of the women I’ve found to be sexy have coincidentally been wearing them. But Darklady sports the spectacles, and whether they qualify as a fetish for me or not, she wears them well.

She’s got my favorite hair color, which is to say, NON-blonde. More specifically, she’s got long brunette locks shot with streaks of red. Not the kind of red that you find in the hair color of natural redheads, but rather the shade you’d find on the side of a fire truck. (A red firetruck, not a yellow one – I know that somewhere, someone was questioning that. I would have been.) So her hair is a fetish bonanza.

[And I know it’s not polite to discuss a lady’s age . . . so I’ll just say that she’s enough older than me to feed those ‘sexy older woman’ fantasies I’ve always had, but figured I’d have to abandon now that I’m currently in the age range that those ‘older women’ always were when I was a teen.]

Other fetishy stuff . . .

Back in late June, Darklady was tweeting from the floor of the CybernetExpo. And at one point, responding to a question about whether anything exciting was going on yet, she sent the following update: “So far the big gossip is that the man behind Marquee magazine wants to suck my toes & get a foot job from me. :-)”

Shortly thereafter, she updated that information with: “Alas, the man who wants to suck my toes is NOT the Marquee behind Marquee magazine, but perhaps it’s some kind of sign of things to cum. ;-)”

I found myself sitting in front of a computer up at the library not long after she sent those tweets, and I just couldn’t help myself. I had to throw my two e-cents in. I’d never actually seen the Dark One’s feet – shoes and boots, yes. Feet, no. But I was hot for this woman, and my mind was now flooded with thoughts of toe-sucking and footjobs.

I responded to that first tweet of hers with this message: “’Meanwhile, back at the ranch’ Zeitgeist the Clown yearns for the exact same thing from you. (Just thought I’d mention that.)”

I checked Twitter again before leaving for the day, and found that she’d sent this response: “@ZeitgeistClown Who knew my size 8.5’s were so much in demand? MUST get a pedicure again one of these days. The dogs are sad looking now.”

So, there has been the occasional Darklady-involved foot fetish fantasy since late June.

Reading her fetish list on FetLife (and doing the appropriate visualization and fantasizing while I do so) is another big turn-on for me. I won’t go into what she’s into, but looking at the list I find two things I’m not thrilled about, one thing that I could see myself getting into, and the entire rest of the list is, “Yes, please!”

Okay, so far I’ve mentioned fetish, fetish, fetish, fetish, and fetish. (Not to mention fetish, fetish, and fetish. Oh, and fetish.)

One of the things that Darklady has said is that for a sex writer and porn reviewer, her personal sex life is surprisingly vanilla. By choice. And again, I can’t tell if it was an epiphany or a last minute justification, but reading that was the moment that my brain nudged me and said, “You know, vanilla is probably where you should start out at, virgin boy.”

Time To Bring This To a Close

Even making a concentrated effort to ‘write short’ and shunting some of what I want to say to the overflow blog, this thing is still going to clock in at well over 3000 words.

So, to try and summarize my position once again: Darklady good. Fire bad. (Or something like that.)

Eventually I’ll get part three of this debacle up on the blog, wherein I’ll pine for my other current fetish crush.


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