In Conversation: Maitree Muzumdar Part 2
What now for the sexually-liberated artist? Maitree and I talk about life after making nude poetry music videos with The KitKatClub founder, Simon Thaur, in Berlin.
Photo by: Boris Eldagsen (c) BOOTBLACK Maitree Muzumdar
What now for the sexually-liberated artist? Maitree and I talk about life after making nude poetry music videos with The KitKatClub founder, Simon Thaur, in Berlin (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, read last week’s post HERE).
Maitree’s focus is on BOOTBLACK, a compilation of the first and only feminist digital sexual archive in India. It is a self-documentation of and by real people exploring their kinks, fetishes, and sexuality. To sum it up, Maitree tells me BOOTBLACK is, “A playart of pleasure, rich with the concepts of consent, pleasure, and clear communication, that is constantly updated as the ideologies progress. The idea is to break the taboo associated with topics of sexuality and nudity, which is a direct effect of the patriarchal system.”
For Maitree, the archive disrupts the references so commonly available and gives opportunity to access fresh, new-age sexual references that are more in sync with how society could be as opposed to how it is supposed to be. It gives as much liberty and freedom one desires in exploring with multiple forms of relationships, touch and explorations with the mind and body.
Her efforts are about shifting the conversations around sex away from fear and morality and traditional social obligations. “Had I been born in any other conservative family, I might have been lynched by now,” she confesses.
As an artist in the alternative domain, she feels the need to detach from familial obligations. There is a delicate balance of keeping her family in the loop regarding her work, while still maintaining a sense of detachment; her family understands that as being necessary for her to explore. “Thankfully, I am privileged to have a family that remains open to conversations and is supportive. They try to understand and evolve and I keep reminding them that the best form of evolution for any Indian family is the one that is guided by the women in the family,” she shares with me.
Being raised in a conservative land, Maitree felt like clothing and colour schemes were another tool used to shame. “As a dark-skinned girl, I was once asked by elites donned in fairer pastel colour schemes why I wore white clothes with my skin colour. Wasn’t I scared of leaving my dirty colour on it?” She recounts the life lesson and then continued, “That was the day I understood how even colour schemes have so cleverly been manipulated. The elite Indians are still obsessed with fairer colour palettes and often it seeps from the ingrained ideas of wanting to be as far away from dirt as possible. In a way, associating fairer colour palettes with traditional norms of beauty and purity. With the ‘innocence of a virgin girl’ or ‘distance from the labour class’.” Now she sees the naked body as a canvas and clothing as a possible form of expression of personal politics.
“Even within the kink community, if the kinkster is not heavily aware and well-versed, there is the possibility of clever manipulation,” according to Maitree. For her, the result of such manipulation is that instead of using BDSM aspects to disrupt the power dynamics in the real patriarchal world, we end up enforcing the patriarchal pyramid structures inside the BDSM world. She tells me, “For instance, ideally, the dominant is the dominant because of the innate ability to guide and direct. Dominants prefer being teachers and submissives prefer being learners. When the submissive feels confident enough, the submissive also starts practicing dominance.”
We look at a dominatrix in porn content, as an example. “Often, the dominatrix will be seen as having typically manly behavioral patterns associated with dominating males, and is also adorned to please the submissive male or the male viewer. The dominatrix here is not the real dominant. One might say, look, the submissive man is submitting to her! As true as it may seem to the layman, the dominatrix might be physically topping, but in this particular scenario, she is not the dominant. The male viewer is!” She breaks it down thoughtfully.
Maitree continues, “Traditionally, a woman’s weakness lies in the fact that she can give birth. If today, Elon Musk manages to create a technology whereby men can be carriers of babies, we’ll celebrate him, seeing ourselves as above and beyond nature. When nature bestows women with unique abilities, we choose to see it as a weakness. Even the maternal idea of taking care of a child is not a weakness, it is the patriarchal parenting system that is the real weakness of the system! We are in no way superior than nature. Our knowledge is a function of the intelligence of the ecosystem we are a part of! Nature has not been unjust to humans. Nature just did its function. We humans have conjured the very idea of ‘motive’ in nature. The unique differences in each one of us should be cherished!”
Maitree is particularly interested in topping from the bottom, “I was surprised to see there is not much research on this topic. Even in the BDSM community, topping from the bottom is seen as a grey area where the dominant or submissive is not able to choose where they belong at that moment. But that’s in Berlin; in a third world country like India, it can be interestingly applied.” The recent anti-secular amendments in the citizenship act has led to widespread protests across the country. Muslim women have been at the forefront of these protests. In Maitree’s opinion, “Men would have created war. When a woman from a conservative family protests, she is topping from the bottom.”
So how is it for Maitree to be back in India? She sees her Berlin journey as her secret weapon.
For Maitree, directness removes the shock value. This is why her work building the BOOTBLACK archive is integral to achieve change. It is her understanding that, “Young and old people being able to see a plethora of versions of what is acceptable is what will build the foundation for a more inclusive, loving, intersectional society. Removing the shame around bodies and sex is fundamental to shifting the culture.”
The big issue that holds her back is a legal one. Pornography and content with nudity remains in the grey zone in India because of its censorship laws and the political regime. This makes it both difficult to get submissions and host the platform online. Then there are rigid familial values and morality regimes. “Our gods also become a party to the scene,” she adds.
Finally, funding… finding funders for a topic as controversial as this is not easy. Especially since she desires to not just restrict BOOTBLACK to the digital medium. With her background in law and her passion for a more open society, Maitree is working with lawyers in India and abroad to find the best platform to launch the project and work within the system to change it (feel free to chime in with ideas, sexy people).
Beyond the sexual archive, Maitree is exploring how to translate body positivity, choice, consent and fundamental rights into early childhood education. It’s tough because a digital platform in India is still elitist and not accessible for many. She is working on the right format through a more feasible option like new age bedtime stories, nursery rhymes and games.
What can we expect to see from her once the power-structures-that-be loosen their grip on the throat that is India’s sexual suppression? “Porn that is not classist, sexist, and that doesn’t look down on aspects of vulnerability. Porn needs to be made by an oppressed group; by the labour class and by the degenerates. I would love to direct porn someday!” Maitree is also interested in the psychological and spiritual aspects from a non-binary point of view. She looks at kink as a form of 'emotional release' from gendered expectations. “It's a great starting point for many mental and sexual health conversations!” she tells me, with the kind of love in her voice that is needed to get a project like this off the ground.
For Maitree there is more merit in mainstream operating. Growing slowly rather than trying to make it big, and creating something that lasts and is constantly updated, rather than just another fad.
Now that we’ve gone deep into the feminism and patriarchy themes surrounding this arena, let’s get back to the juicy BDSM goodness. I’m sure more than a handful of you reading this are thinking... How can I let my kinky side out? So I asked, for those of us with the good fortune to live in places where it’s accessible, what’s the best way to get involved in the kink BDSM scene?
According to this rising star, “Look for people operating on their own identities. Understand their principles and make sure you understand the nature of the experimental zone. It is based on trial and error. They will take time to trust you because they have already reached where they are after putting in a lot of blood and sweat. Consent and communication is very important. Do not look down on personalities playing in aliases. They are in the same mode, just using a different approach. We all are pushing in different ways and the beauty lies in the fact that the methods are different but the agenda is the same”. Simple, right?
For Maitree, the best research comes from experience and communication. For those of you who would like to start with some light reading before getting your leather on, her advice is to stay away from the classics and go for something more current, and ideally engage in practicals whenever possible. The underground level is heavy on experimental and needs a lot of trust to enter. There are kinksters who like it for its taboo nature and then there are the kinksters looking to make it more mainstream. Whatever be your approach, play it safe and consensually and with a lot of constant communication and kindness.
Maitree’s current reading list:
Xenofeminism : A Politics of Alienation by Laboria Cuboniks
A Cyborg Manifesto by Donna Haraway
Other cyberfeminist artists, writers, and works to check out include: Radhika Gajjala, Mary Maggic, VNS Matrix, The Old Boys Network.
The biggest takeaway... Google isn’t helpful in this instance (it’s okay, Millennials, there are just some things in life that are better left to the real world). Happy hunting, kinksters.
NY MAG: Sex Diaries
Although sex with multiple people in a day isn’t my usual weekend activity, it has happened on several other pre-COVID occasions. However, sex with multiple people at once is fairly regular. What can I say, threesomes are my favorite.
A New Yorker, through and through, it feels a bit off to be called ‘A Montreal Woman’ but alas, that is what I am now. If you don’t already know New York Magazine’s Sex Diaries, be sure to check it out. I wrote a little something about sex in the age of Covid. Enjoy it; I certainly did.
A woman tanning naked while working from home and pining for a man she loves but has never had sex with: 33, single, Montreal.
Photo-Illustration: James Gallagher
DAY ONE
10 a.m. I invited a guy over for a quickie after we matched on one of the apps last night. When he arrives, I see that he’s cute just like his photo. He’s ten years my junior, with a mischievous smile. We have our way with each other in the living room and then my bedroom.
12 p.m. I lounge in the park with friends, take mushrooms, and soak up the sun. It’s been so long since I’ve been properly social, I forgot how nice it is to be around others. Especially others who are as fabulous as this crew: a model turned interior decorator, a footwear designer, and a graffiti artist visiting from Toronto. We stand out in the crowd of “outdoorsy types” that lines the rocky shore of the St. Lawrence River. After a while I Uber home to shower and change.
6 p.m. Uber to fuck buddy No. 2, The Gymnast, who I also met the night before on an app. This one is my age, extremely tall at 6-foot-6 and absolutely handsome as hell. I wanted him to film me while he fucked my mouth, but he clearly hasn’t done that before. We have very different definitions of what “naughty” means.
Although sex with multiple people in a day isn’t my usual weekend activity, it has happened on several other pre-COVID occasions. However, sex with multiple people at once is fairly regular. What can I say, threesomes are my favorite. Until now I’ve only been with a man and woman; I look forward to the day when I can have two men at once and throw wild orgy parties at my fabulous future loft in Berlin. Most men who say they’ll fuck you with another man end up backing out. This has happened at least five times. Although maybe they’re scared because I always want to film it…
10 p.m. Stroll home along the canal, still high on mushrooms, delighting in the two fucks of the day.
DAY TWO
8 a.m. Rise and shine and go for a run. Nothing feels as good as a quick eight miles after a night of sex and a day of drugs.
12 p.m. Tan naked on the balcony for hours. Swipe through the apps. No, I don’t care about the photo of you holding a fish. Match with a hot couple. Chat until I realize that no, they’ve never invited someone to join them before and no I am not looking to be their first.
4 p.m. I head to the grocery store; it’s a small corner type place filled with the best local and exotic produce. I stock up on salicornia from the Dead Sea and mangosteens, origin unknown. I take a selfie of the hot outfit I wore to the grocery store to post on instagram because someone other than the cashier deserves to see how hot I looked.
7 p.m. My Instagram DMs are blowing up with past lovers, girlfriends, and wannabe lovers. I guess it was a hot outfit. One handsome friend requests my presence in Berlin to accompany him to a club. If only the world was open for travel and I could join … add to my “to do later” list and move on.
9 p.m. I go to bed, thinking of The One. Now, he’s in London and I’m here in Montreal. No matter who I fuck, I always wish it was him. I don’t know how much more being apart I can handle. We’ve actually never had sex; the first time we met we spent 48 hours together … just not having sex.
It was nine years ago at a hotel pool on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. He was visiting New York for the first time. It was love at first sight and the universe has pulled us apart ever since. When the pandemic happened, I reached back out to him. He told me I was the one who got away and that if he could, he would marry me tomorrow.
He is the only person with whom I’ve had this kind of connection and not immediately slept with. I knew with him it needed to be more than just sex and until recently I wasn’t in the right headspace for that kind of love. He is poetic and passionate, dark and intense, and so beautiful.
DAY THREE
5:15 a.m. Wake up, run, get sexy texts from The One.
7:15 a.m. I shower and imagine he is here with me: his hands caressing my body as the water cascades down my skin, holding me against the cold tile and sliding inside me.
9 a.m. The work from home life continues. My first ever 9 to 5 job started just before the shut down. By day I operate as an account executive for a business solutions company. It’s just sales, but I’m good at it. In the short time I’ve been with this company I’ve received five promotions. One more to go and I’ll have reached the top. Boring, but six figures and insurance makes it worth it.
12 p.m. The One and I are sending erotic art photos back and forth. I get so turned on I have to take a break and make myself come.
1 p.m. Tan naked on balcony.
5 p.m. Work is over, the only thing to do is roam the streets of my neighborhood, admiring all the shops that are closed that I plan to patronize as soon as they reopen.
7 p.m. The real work begins. Since lockdown I’ve been contemplating relaunching an old project — an anonymous sex blog. Two hours later I’m deep on a trip down memory lane, migrating content from the old anonymous platform to the soon to relaunch updated site. A change of the blog title and a whole lot of copy and paste has me longing for New York, past lovers, and future adventures. When can I sit at a bar and seduce a beautiful blond again? A man, a woman, or even better, a couple. Dating apps are becoming dull.
DAY FOUR
5:30 a.m. Same as Monday, but this time on my run I see the old man who sexually harasses me. Off to a great start.
5 p.m. Match with a super sexy man visiting Montreal for a month this summer. Yes he has a pool, yes he has a boat. Yes I think I would like to play with him.
7 p.m. Make myself dinner — bison burgers with a side of radish microgreens. Hold the bun, hold the ketchup, add extra wasabi vegan mayo. Later I bake an impromptu vegan, gluten-free banana bread because why not? While it bakes, I scroll through erotic art on Instagram and send messages to the artists I fancy most in hopes they’ll be down to collaborate on the blog.
DAY FIVE
5:20 a.m. Same running routine, but this time I take a new route and fantasize about The One. Variety is the spice of life after all.
10 a.m. Boat Guy has now been added to the mix. We’ve only been chatting one day, but I can tell he is a man who knows how to get what he wants and is used to getting it. Could be fun.
12:30 p.m. More topless tanning. This time I take topless selfies to send to The One.
7 p.m. Catch up phone date with my bestie who is now in Chicago. I was supposed to visit this summer; who knows when we’ll see each other next. The border shutdown is breaking my heart. We laugh about the crazy old times in New York. Running a boutique PR firm in our early 20s was a blast. Together we were unstoppable.
8 p.m. Continue migrating content from the old blog to the new platform. How did I write 96 posts before! This is way more effort than I’d realized and there are definitely spelling mistakes that need fixing; the joys of self editing and self publishing.
DAY SIX
5 a.m. Almost trip on my run checking out my ass in a window as I go by.
12:30 p.m. Lunch on the balcony, shredded chicken with a vegan basil pesto, hand crafted by yours truly, tossed with radish microgreens and extra pine nuts.
6 p.m. Boat Guy calls me. He has a lovely voice. We seem to be on the same page for the kind of kink that will go down up on his arrival. Things are looking up.
7 p.m. Drink a liter of homemade ginger-turmeric bone broth. My knees have been killing me since I began running like a maniac. Hoping this anti-inflammatory mix will rescue me. Nothing seems to help.
DAY SEVEN
5:15 a.m. Love the extra time I have in the morning since we started working from home. Make the most of it with another 7.5 mile run.
9 a.m. Final day of the week grinding it out at work. The sexts start early and this time they are with the Boat Guy.
12:30 p.m. He’s keen to meet, and has moved his flight up by five days. Oh yes and he’ll be bringing his kids, “You like kids right?” I mean, I do like kids, I just didn’t realize I’d be meeting them. This fuck fest we’d been planning now suddenly sounds more like a “family vacation” than the kink of my wildest dreams.
5 p.m. This is my third week of physiotherapy and it’s definitely helping. I perform back bends in hopes of loosening my lower back. My therapist inspects my movements and helps me relax the muscles to allow for optimal progress. I’m not sure if I like it for the relief it gives my knees or because it’s the closest thing to regular human interaction in months.
6 p.m. With the work week behind me and multiple lovers on the go, things are almost starting to feel like normal. I’m deep in text land with all of them.
12 a.m. The One and I FaceTime while I’m high on mushrooms walking in the park. He is so handsome it’s hard to focus on anything else. He is saying all the right things and I am swooning hard. Why does the world bring us together again while COVID forces us to remain apart?
In Conversation: Maitree Muzumdar Part 1
After saving enough money on her indie artist salary, she headed to Germany for 18 days to dive head-first into the land of hedonism and all things BDSM and kink. What she found surprised, delighted, and very much turned her on.
Photo by: Boris Eldagsen (c) BOOTBLACK Maitree Muzumdar
From law to film, Ahmedabad to Goa, Maitree Muzumdar has her work cut out for her when it comes to shifting India’s traditional cultural norms accepting and embracing sexual politics in all its many forms. It’s a challenge she has accepted, and isn’t backing down.
While most of you spent Sunday morning making pancakes and poaching eggs, I had the immense pleasure of spending the morning in conversation with the feminist Indian artist about her work in the BDSM and hedonist world of Berlin.
Maitree’s more ‘mainstream’ work focuses on counter culture and bringing awareness to the systems in place that keep us complacent. In these times of pandemic, her Instagram profile is populated with cyberfeminist short videos that are a part of her digital series ‘UNMUTE’. The UNMUTE videos are made using open source, freely available graphics, photos and images, which Instagram and WhatsApp tactfully provide as a means to communicate, while also ensuring distance from any controversial or protest-friendly visuals. The idea behind UNMUTE is to surpass the censorship laws and use their own content to create protest-friendly socio-political material through a process she refers to as ‘digital manipulation’. As Maitree puts it, “India has been pushing for digitization even more furiously because of the lockdown. We must not forget the class-dividing material realities that under-ride a digital world. And to not mention, digitization today gives the right immense digital advantage to control and release information based on what suits their motives better.”
Her foray into the world of BDSM began innocently enough when houseguests from Germany introduced her to their work in fetish leather crafts. From there it’s a BDSM fairytale so-to-speak.
Maitree was connected with Simon Thaur and Kirsten Krüger of the infamous KitKatClub in Berlin and multiple other experienced and highly knowledgeable kink explorers. After saving enough money on her indie artist salary, she headed to Germany for 18 days to dive head-first into the land of hedonism and all things BDSM and kink. What she found surprised, delighted, and very much turned her on.
“As a third world country, India is still struggling with several hurdles because of its ingrained centuries-old class system. I see feminism as a subset of the class struggle, because we, the women, are the labour class too! In such a system, a woman putting her sexuality in the public domain becomes a political statement,” she tells me during our Sunday morning call.
“India is called the land of the Kamasutra and we keep citing it as the code of conduct on sexuality. What is it really? A text by upper-class elite men who were privileged to learn Sanskrit. It fits in the power dynamics of the Bhramanical patriarchy. A Shudra woman would have written differently. I was more interested in a new-age Indian archival on sexuality that had been created with awareness, keeping the ideas of consent, pleasure and feminist class struggle in mind. A documentation of individuals and communities exploring sexuality further and further in India. Constantly updating and constantly evolving. So I started working on BOOTBLACK, an archival of sexual journeys of forward-thinking people. I wanted to blend these newer, updated references on sexuality with the older references, slowly normalizing these.”
Maitree had not gone to Berlin with the intention of being on camera. However, to kickstart BOOTBLACK, it was important to her for an Indian body to be exploring the Berlin scene. With no other Indian with whom she was connected around in Berlin at that time, she felt that being in the film herself was the simplest solution. Or rather the toughest. “I wish I had documented more of my kink journey, but there was so much information to consume that several times I just went with the flow, deciding that I would come back again to document. That second trip remains pending still.”
Usually behind the camera, Maitree found herself on camera in two of Simon‘s music videos as well. “He creates what feels like genderless nude poetry,” she explains. In her Berlin explorations, several talented artists ever so kindly agreed support her - “like Boris Eldagsen with his camera and light work expertise, Tamandua for Kinbaku, CoCoKatsura for feminist discourses, Espectra Negra for introducing me to industrial sound and the punk scene, Luhmen D’Arc for much sexual explorations through intimacy with multiple bodies, and countless other artists, kinksters, theorists, prostitutes and comrades who influenced me.”
Performing under her own name without the creation of an alternative experimental alias allowed Maitree to claim and empower her own identity, while stripping away the compulsive identities that had been imposed onto hers. “Being naked in front of the camera made me feel powerful, not shameful. It really hits you - each aspect of conditioning that has gone into creating the identity you so proudly assume.”
All the while Maitree was confronted with the question, “Why the particular interest in alternative cultures?” From a young age women are told that their body and all its natural functions are against them. The ideas of consent, pleasure and communication remain in the dark. Sex tapes in India are used to manipulate and humiliate women and families. Virginity of a woman is associated with purity. Gender-based violence, marital rape, online harassment, child abuse and forced child marriage are some of the many other brutal realities in India. Bringing in aspects of religion, morality and familial pressure ensure strict creation of the woman the patriarchal society desires. Of men, for men, by men. The birth of a woman, de facto, is a glitch in the system! The subculture prides in being the glitch. Which is why I connected with it ever so smoothly and have been deeply interested in exploring further in this domain.”
In BOOTBLACK, Maitree explores several issues, “How can one create a panic situation in traditional hierarchical power pyramid structure? Can the aspects of dominance and submission in the BDSM world be used as a clever lens to understand power dynamics and create a disruption? Can topping from the bottom be a useful tactic? Can the theory of how dominance should be versus how dominance is supposed to be rethought? If one masters the kink of humiliation, can the patriarchal idea of punishment ever remain a punishment if they are actually getting pleasure out of it?”
“Exposure, or lack thereof, is what holds people back. Some of the films Simon is heavily infamous for are scat porn, where fecal waste is seen as a form of pleasure. From the outsider’s perspective it feels gross, dirty and disgusting. From the insider’s perspective, it is a revolutionary political statement. Who plays in garbage? The degenerate class. By playing in shit, your perspective changes. You question all the privileges you are born with. You become the degenerate. Especially as a woman, playing in dirt, disgust and gross aspects also keeps ‘em misogynists away. They want nothing to do with degenerates like me. It's a great filter system!”
In Berlin, Maitree was equally, if not more, interested in the philosophical and psychological aspects of bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism. She especially thrived when playing in the more feared and subversive fetishes. All these practices used to be a mode and tool to oppress at some time - like Kinbaku (rope tying), whipping, spanking, chains, golden shower, scat, etc. The alternative culture has managed to completely flip the power dynamics by introducing them as kinks, and by mandating consent, communication and pleasure. BDSM is not just a play of the bodies, but also the mind. Each form of play is constantly challenging the traditional norms of gender, class and power dynamics.
I had to ask, “Why not stay in Berlin?”
Maitree knows that even though she has found her community there in Berlin, staying wouldn’t allow her to bring the much-needed change back to India. The oppressed class in India is, in whatever means possible, pushing for a feminist revolution; in homes, on the streets, in relationships, at workplaces, in communities. “I have to do my part, here!” she declares.
And then we had to go there... this world, our world; it is defined through the man’s gaze. The real question for Maitree: “How do I find out what a woman's gaze is?”
She tells me, “All the books I have devoured, films I have watched, art that I have been influenced by, have been by men. So unfortunately, I believe even my gaze is still a male’s gaze based on the influences I had while growing up. But I’m more aware and conscious now. I feel that only when I can manage to strip away all the conditioning and look objectively at all the references I have had till now, can I find my gaze. It’s a long and continuous process. And a tough one. And often we slip and make mistakes, but each slip is just the stepping stone to reach the next level of awareness. Thankfully I work and live in a safe space in Goa with peers and friends who lovingly guide me. They have been a solid backbone for me.”
So you’re probably wondering like I was... given India’s closed attitude towards sexuality in general, what is the BDSM scene like there, or rather, is there even a scene there?
“In Berlin, kinksters are proud to openly proclaim themselves as kinksters; the same formula would not apply here. While I decided to blend kink into my work, I wouldn’t want to impose the same on the other individuals exploring here, because that means bringing in a form of colonization back from Berlin to India.” Says Maitree. She has managed to discover some amazing experimental people in Goa, Bangalore, Kolkata, Bombay, Delhi and Ahmedabad. She says that the form and process of kink play is different, but is moving fast. So what now? For Maitree, “The hunt is on to connect to kinksters in the other cities. I am especially interested in exploring the North Eastern states.”
We have faith the kinksters will come out to play where ever she goes.
Photo by: Boris Eldagsen (c) BOOTBLACK Maitree Muzumdar
It All Adds Up
“Scorpio,” I said lowering my voice, “I only sleep with scorpios; married scorpios.”
It was July 2011 and simmering hot on the city streets. My dove gray Reformation slip dress floated behind me as the air-conditioning cut through the thick air as I entered the only place to be on at night as hot as this. The attendant at Soho house was polished to perfection. Having spent all day in the cool lobby her hair was perfectly pressed, her make up immaculate.
My skin was sticky with sweat from the city streets and my dress clung to my breasts; I rode the elevator to the roof to meet my friend for ice cold wine, people watching and plotting world domination. As I stepped up to the bar to greet her she already had a crisp glass of Chablis in hand for me.
The men she was chatting up looked me up and down and I was keen to move on without them, but she was pushing hard to gain the attention of the taller, slimmer one. Much to my irritation the four of us ended up at a table near the swimming pool and while the men tried to entertain and impress me, I was cold, short and aloof, not having any of it. When the conversation turned to star signs I’d almost had enough until the more handsome of the two said he was a Scorpio.
“Scorpio,” I said lowering my voice, “I only sleep with scorpios, married scorpios.”
He shot me a knowing look from across the table, taken aback by my forwardness and even more intrigued by my seeming lack of interest in him and his career.
As the night wound down and we made our way to the streets of the meatpacking district. I kissed my friend goodbye and I was about to jump into a cab myself when the tall handsome Englishman asked if his driver could drop me at home. Who am I to turn down a lift? Let’s call him The Ad Man.
His driver pulled to a stop at my front door and got out to leave the two of us alone. We had been staring at each other, hungry to get a taste of what the other had on tap. He pulled me close and kissed me hard, the electricity was contagious. I felt a fire inside me and I wanted him to push his hands between my legs and feel how wet I was. But instead I told him goodnight and I made a swift exit.
Moments after I walked through the doorway of my East village apartment my phone buzzed.
“I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. When can I see you again?” It was The Ad Man. His car had barely pulled off the block and he already wanted more. His lips were firm but soft, just like his touch.
We were in the backseat of his town car parked in front of my apartment; his driver has stepped out of the car to give us some privacy. He slid one hand up my warm thigh as he pulled me closer with the other leaning in to kiss me. A shiver went down my spine and I was instantly wet. He was as hungry for my lips, as I was to feel his tongue deep inside me. I pulled away thanking him for the lift home and stepped out of the car.
I was still in the haze that comes from the sweltering heat off the concrete on a New York summer night, combine with several glasses of wine and a steamy make out session with a handsome stranger. At the time I didn’t know who I was dealing with, that would soon change.
I lit up a freshly rolled joint and inhaled the clouds of smoke as his messages kept rolling in. I lay back on my bed and slid my fingers inside myself imagining they were his tongue; as I push myself closer to the edge of orgasm I knew it was going to be a very fun summer. And a fun summer it was indeed.
The Deep End
The young man looked about surveying the scene and then I heard it... my name pass through his beautiful full lips.
As the resident queen of Manhattan’s rooftop pool hopping-scene, it was business as usual on a Saturday in the summer. I lay mostly naked, at what was then called the Thompson Lower East Side Hotel, on the pool deck of the fourth floor. The sweltering sun reflected in the glass of the hotel‘s windows amplifying it’s rays; creating a Mecca of sorts for us sun worshippers with enough connections to escape the radiating heat off the concrete streets down below.
I continued my summer ritual of dipping in the cold pool and laying out in the humid heat, my body bronzing further with each passing moment. 100°F and climbing it was just another day for the beautiful people sipping deliciously expensive cocktails, served by tall stylish model-types and eyeing the other gorgeous bodies laying about.
Back then the pools were a well-kept secret and unfortunately I may have been responsible for bringing down the house... but that is not this story.
I lay on the lounger as beads of water still floated across my skin from my most recent dip in the pool running down my breasts and onto my flat tanned stomach. I glanced over at the bar to get the attention of my server.. my champagne was almost empty.
The dark tinted glass door to the pool deck swung open. There he was. His T-shirt clung to his muscular body in all the right ways, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Tell me he’s the one I’m supposed to be showing around this weekend... my heart beat faster in anticipation. I had promised my friend I would look after his visitor while he was away and had not a clue what he looked like, just his name and that he was in town from London.
The young man looked about surveying the scene and then I heard it... my name pass through his beautiful full lips.
I couldn’t believe my luck. The way my name rolled off his tongue with his posh English accent sent a thrill down my spine. We locked eyes and as he walked towards me I stood. When he drew close enough I jumped into his arms pressing my wet swimsuit into his dry clothes whispering in his ear “Welcome to New York,” and that was when everything changed.
I didn’t know it then but this encounter would be the beginning of a whole new world.
Though it was nine years ago, that weekend we spent together has stayed close to my heart. He’s the only man I felt such a connection with who I didn’t devour in an instant.
At the time I’d told him it was because I had a boyfriend... but let’s be honest my boyfriend was married to another woman, had three kids with a fourth on the way and that is not why I wouldn’t sleep with him.
This was new for me, a connection between us unlike anything I’d known. We spent the weekend getting lost in each other. His kiss, his arms holding me closely. His hot breath as his tongue passed over my panties getting me so wet and beyond turned on.
There was a feeling of intimacy and carnal need to be together, yet I was resisting the temptation to make him just another conquest.. he was to be more than that. Even though it was almost impossible to resist as I felt the size of his hard cock push up against me, something told me to wait.
Back then I was too caught up in running to understand it. But now almost a decade later it clicked; he has always been the one.
Now, countless miles apart he is in London and I am in Montreal. The world has been put on pause and I know without a shadow of a doubt he is the only one I want and perhaps he always has been.
A Leave Of Absence
It’s been 9 years since I stopped writing the blog. Why stop? The stories never ended, the lifestyle carried on swingingly... but I was an addict, a self proclaimed workaholic. I was proud, smug even. I’d selected the very best of all the addictions; one that slid under even the most advanced of radars. Like all addictions, I constantly needed more.
Keating Sherwin photo (c) Elizabeth Waterman
Keating Sherwin photo (c) Elizabeth Waterman
It’s been 9 years since I stopped writing the blog. Why stop? The stories never ended, the lifestyle carried on swingingly... but I was an addict, a self proclaimed workaholic. I was proud, smug even. I’d selected the very best of all the addictions; one that slid under even the most advanced of radars. Like all addictions, I constantly needed more.
My career advanced and I began working 17 to 20 hours a day; there was no time left to have a life and write about it. So I switched gears, throwing myself into the work as it came, climbing the ladder of success as a budding stylist. Music videos, short films, top tier editorial spreads, New York editor for a Canadian indie publication, styling top models, celebrities, launching a creative agency, a not-for-profit foundation, a private members club... I was in my mid-twenties and my resume read like I was 45. All the while my personal life provided another level of distraction, still devious and deliciously scandalous as ever.
Not only did the workaholism sneak by undetected but people praised me for it commending me on my work ethic and dedication, for my commitment to the job and ability to take on so much at once, wear so many hats, fill so many roles.
A master of disguise, I hid my addiction even from myself until I was so deep in, so broken, that there was no denying it. If I didn’t change I would die and as I approached my 29th birthday I knew I had about three years left if I was lucky.
The men, the women, the work, the parties, the uppers and downers (prescribed and unprescribed); a delicate balance keeping afloat the sinking ship that was my physical and mental well-being. A new level of exhaustion was beginning to sink in and it was looking like I may never bounce back.
No amount of sleep could make up for all the sleepless nights. That last summer in New York I was pulling one to three all-nighters a week, having launched a new business, still consulting for another client and producing a runway show for New York fashion week. Each day I struggled further to perform basic human functions.
I was smoking half an ounce of weed a week just to round out the edges from the daily 80 mgs of Adderall I was taking to function; a volume well beyond the scope of sorting out the ADHD that persisted. On top of that, a new Doctor had come to the conclusion that if the one antidepressant wasn’t working I should probably add a second to the mix just to “get level”.
New York had always been home, even before I ever stepped foot on the hot dark pavement. Nine years later I knew if I wanted to live I’d have to leave. For the first time in my entire life I wanted to live more than I wanted to die. It was time to push pause on New York.
Lunch Break
He lifted me on to the kitchen counter, licked my pussy and sucked on my clit until he pulled my hips down and forced himself inside me.
I lay on the balcony topless soaking up the sun in anticipation of his arrival. As I glanced up, his tall frame entered the doorway of my kitchen. He was covered in dust from the manual labor. His arms were strong and chiseled and he was even more handsome up close than I’d realized.
Standing to meet him our eyes were locked; he towered over me at 6'6". His hands slid up my outer thighs as he bent his head to kiss me slowly and deeply; our lips lingered.
My tongue pulled him closer asking for more without saying a word. I unbuckled his belt and I pushed his jeans to the floor. He was already hard and I lowered to my knees then sliding my lips around the head of his cock. I worked him with my tongue, choking as I tried to fit him down my throat. He was throbbing, becoming harder and harder, growing larger with each pulse.
He lifted me on to the kitchen counter, licked my pussy and sucked on my clit until he pulled my hips down and forced himself inside me. He kissed my mouth and neck as he held me in place and fucked me all the right ways. The music blared in hopes it would cover the sound of my screams, but it wasn’t enough. It was 100 degrees out and every window in my place was open. The neighbors were getting a show whether they liked it or not.
He pulled me down from the counter and carried me into the bedroom. Sitting at the edge of my bed I stood naked in front of him. I slid my fingers inside myself, resting my foot on the inside of his thigh, so he could have a front row up close view to my pleasure and I could admire the beautiful human I was about to fuck to climax.
I straddled him and teased myself with his cock then slid down on him and rode him hard and fast. His hand wrapped tightly around my neck and I placed mine on top, beckoning him to tighten his grip.
“I’m so close,” I whispered, and as I did he slipped his other hand from my hip and pushed a finger into my ass. I let out a moan in pleasure and kept going until I came squirting all over his lap and soaking my sheets.
He flipped me onto my knees and took me from behind. Just as he was about to cum the alarm on my phone went off; lunch break over.
As he was about to let go, he pulled out, whipped off the condom and came all over my ass. Breathless, we collapsed onto the mattress. 40 minutes just wasn’t enough time with him.
“What time do you get off work?” He asked, also eager for more.
“I’ll see you at 5 PM,” I said, as I made my way to the shower. And indeed 4 hours later, like clockwork, he was back in my bed just moments after I closed my laptop.
Round two?
Spray Me Down
As they sprayed the outside of the building with water I turned and asked if he could get me next.
After months working from home I was in need of some excitement. In a city known for having a wild side, COVID-19 had turned everyday into Groundhog Day.
5:30 AM rise, run 7 miles and see the same old white man; get sexually harassed. 7 AM meditate, 8 AM breakfast, 9 AM work and 12:30 PM suntan topless on the balcony. You get it... it’s good but boring. Then finally something new.
My neighbor tells me they’re re-bricking the back of his building next door. “I’m sorry for the interruption,” he tells me. And what an interruption indeed.
I informed the neighbor that I had every intention of tanning topless on lunch breaks as per usual. He nodded clearly having zero issue sneaking glances at my exposed flesh.
The construction was noisy and incessant. For a week, while trying to focus on the task at hand, the men watched me tan during my work breaks. The crew leader was smoking hot and we exchanged knowing glances daily. On the final day of work it was hot as ever. As they sprayed the outside of the building with water I turned and asked if he could get me next.
“Are you serious?” He asked sounding both surprised and delighted.
“Spray me down all the way,” I replied shooting him a devilish grin.
The cold water felt amazing as it dripped down my shoulders and across my breasts. The water trickled down my ass soaking my thong as it continued down and off my ankles into a pool around me. “More!” I demanded.
He hit me with another burst of refreshing cold. After removing the beads of water from my face I turned to face him. “Now that you’ve cooled me off come over at lunch and get me hot again.” I turned to walk back inside and could feel his excitement vibrating from next door.
My lunch break was in two hours and I knew he would be mine to devour. I was wet just thinking about taking him and I hoped he would be as good with his tongue as he seemed to be with his hands.
The One
I’ve never wanted to be locked down before but with him it’s undeniable. My heart is engulfed in his darkness. Wild, crazy and open. To be locked down with him is to truly be free.
The thought of his touch electrifies every cell in my being.
The space and time between us is vast but also nonexistent. This connection runs deep and my mind goes to those future places where we are together. Properly together.
That first touch, our first kiss.
As he said, “It will be a million microseconds being pulled together at once, like tiny shards of metal hopeless to their magnetic nucleus; causing a large energetic whole - where time stands no chance against the physics”.
He is poetic and passionate, dark and intense and oh so fucking beautiful. My heart sinks deeper in pleasure with each song he sends, with each photo of his gorgeous body and handsome face I receive.A snippet of artful delight lands on my phone screen as we exchange erotic art sexts; the depth of my desire increases.
I’ve never wanted to be locked down before but with him it’s undeniable. My heart is engulfed in his darkness. Wild, crazy and open. To be locked down with him is to truly be free.
I’ve never met someone who loved me for me. They loved the idea of me, but when the cards are on the table and there are no chips left to play, it’s too much, I’m too much.
He is different. He is strong like me, smart like me, dark like me. Even if we are never together, he will always be the one.
New Beginnings; Chloe Revealed
Good. Now I have you exactly where I want you. Curious, open and anticipating exactly what will follow.
Dark Angels, (c) Elizabeth Waterman all rights reserved
In a good love story the protagonists are constantly being pulled apart, while simultaneously being pushing together. It’s the thrill of seeing them tortured by their love that makes our hearts beat just a little bit faster in the best way possible.
The following are not love stories but some of them will make your heart race, your body temperature rise and possibly evoke a need for self pleasure.
Good. Now I have you exactly where I want you. Curious, open and anticipating exactly what will follow.
Whatever it is that you get from reading this, enjoy it. My kink is knowing some of you are wishing you’re the man or woman in the story, while others are voyeurs peering into a world they have no desire to join but always enjoy the show. I get off knowing that you’re getting off.
An act of exhibition and a demonstration of pleasure for pleasure’s sake, this blog examines sex, love, relationships and life through the lens of female pleasure.
It’s unreasonable to say you don’t like tomatoes, when you’ve never tried tomatoes... with that in mind, join me down the rabbit hole of sexual fantasy, trial and error. Although if I’m being radically honest, I’ve yet to try something I didn’t very much enjoy.
Sooo I Met This Guy had to transform into Chloe Is My Alias because the stories are no longer solely about sexual encounters with just men. Being anonymous after all these years feels unnecessary and not the feminist thing to do. To truly live by my words I have to come out as myself.So with that, my name is Gabrielle Swan and Chloe Is My Alias.
