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Archive for Sidewalk Smut

SMUT STAND REPORT: Oct. 18, 2014 (New Orleans)

WHEN: 6.5 hours (7:30pm-2am), Oct 18, 2014. WHERE: in front of Bicycle Michael's, Frenchmen Street, New Orleans.   OUTPUT: 6 custom works, including a soft-core moment in the sun-warmed tall grass of a summery British meadow; some heated missionary action with melting ice over the nipples; and a driving-hard reverse-cowgirl scene with hints of BDSM for a girl who wanted to somehow let her boyfriend know that she wanted to go further.

I went out an hour earlier than usual, hoping to score the spot on the fence close to the Art Market gate, but no: the jewelry vendor was already there. I fear that I cannot get out early enough for that spot on the weekends without winding up spending 8 hours on the street, which is too fucking long and a little ridiculous for my line of work. And the last time I tried to set up on the other end of the fence, near the Apple Barrel, it ended up too crowded and dark and frankly, some of the fence-sitters, they are either too harassing or smelly or both for me to create a comfortable-enough environment for my clients. I think I'm going to end up staying in front of Bicycle Michael's for every night except Tuesday and Thursday, and hope that Tuesdays, at least, won't be so in demand near the Art Market. Sigh. I'm doing my best here. Last night, though, three poets rotated through, and they all seemed to get a few commissions each, so maybe business in general is picking up for poetry. I hope.

My first commission came in early, and reminded me of something I had wanted to do as an additional perk for customers who want it. It was for a couple who wanted something with a little light BDSM; the woman in particular said she was intrigued by some of the things in 50 Shades of Grey, but really hated the writing. After I wrote the piece, which really seemed to hit the sweet spot for them, I asked her to hit me up on Facebook and I would be happy to give her some recommendations for good erotica. See, I had thought last year about printing up a quarter-sheet bibliography for the more committed erotica readers who stop by; I think I need to do that. Another couple commission later in the evening reminded me of another service that I had considered offering: recording my reading of the piece, and offering to email it to them as an mp3 file, or let them record it on their own phone, for some undetermined extra amount. I welcome any input on this matter.

This year I am definitely noticing an uptake of … networking, I guess I'd call it? It's not HOT networking, as in a producer or publisher "discovering" me right there on the sidewalk, but it's not cold either. People are making suggestions and proposals, and not in a sexual sense. A couple last week had a strong lead on possibly Chicago productions; last night a couple from the Netherlands stopped by and just could not get over the whole concept. They declined to commission a story, but the man handed me a twenty and said, "I just want you to keep doing this. I know someone in Amsterdam who you really need to meet. Do you know so-and-so?" And the funny thing is, I TOTALLY DID. I had met this woman at a sex-ed conference two years ago, and just hadn't followed up in earnest, because Europe seemed a distant goal. It's not anymore, though, and this guy reminded me that I should get on that shit. All of this stuff still involves me doing a lot of footwork, but it's still a lot warmer than "ooh, you should come to my town." I have Names!

On an introspective level, last night I noticed a shift in my attitude towards infidelity in my customers. I remember last year, getting my first commission from an openly cheating couple, and having to set aside a strong knee-jerk judgment. I'm saying this as someone who has cheated in the past, and has dedicated a fair bit of emotional energy and relationship time over the last four years getting my head on right about my own love life. As hard as it is, I do wish people could be more honest about these things.

Anyway, last night, one of my couples mentioned that one of them was married and they weren't supposed to be down there together. I took that information in, and for a split second let it sit next to all the other information and impressions I had gotten from them thus far, and then just saw their obvious love for each other, and that judgment I had last year? I could barely feel it. Most people are doing the best they can under the circumstances they are given. I'm never going to go back to cheating, myself, but I can understand it, and give these wandering lovers the gift of my understanding.

SMUT STAND REPORT: Oct. 16, 2014 (New Orleans)

WHEN: 5.5 hours (8:30pm-2am), Oct 16, 2014. WHERE: mural fence next to the Art Market, Frenchmen Street, New Orleans. OUTPUT: one bit of microsmut and 6 custom works, including a softcore nip-and-tussle moment; a romantic whispering envelopment from behind; and a homo hardcore whipping scene with a dom who had really done his target practice.

Quite apart from the usual smut-writing magic, last night was a night of beautiful return, unexpected recognition, and interesting futures. The gay couple from Tuesday night came back, bringing their friend as promised, and paid for his smut without telling him anything about what he was in for. I can think of worse surprises. And the couple has contacts in the Chicago theatre scene; they are very keen to get me properly produced there. A big tall lady stopped in front of the stand and said, "Hey, it's good to see you back!" She had stopped and chatted with me last year, didn't buy a piece, but remembered the encounter and was extremely effusive about seeing me again. Someone stopped by from an MFA residency program in Florida, read from my Bang It Out book, and urged me to look into their program. Another lady came by and asked what it would take to bring me and my shows to their small town in western Massachusetts; she owns a gallery there, and they do a XXX exhibition every year.

I wish there were some way to guarantee the same spot every time I go out, but it's just not possible. That's the rule of the sidewalk, it's purely squatters' rights, first-come-first-served. But the other regulars of that particular corner near the Art Market entrance, they have become very welcoming, and seem to look forward to me being there. Not the musicians, they still look at me sideways with a skeptical/dismissive eye. The Art Market vendor in that prime entrance spot, he is greeting me every night with enthusiasm, and we remember each other's names. And the guy who rolls up on his bike every night with a cooler of water bottles and beer to sell, we are very much on friendly terms. "It's good to see you here, and see you being busy. It's a good vibe," he said last night. He sold me a bottle of water for half-price; I suggested he look into adding cigarettes to his wares. It's a nice business relationship.

At the end of the night, when I was walking across the street with the new pom-pom smut sign slung over my shoulder, I heard a male voice shout "Cameryn!" The young man who came up, I didn't remember his name, but I recognized his face vaguely, a customer from last year. He and his lover had rented the flat above the bicycle shop. They had just finished fucking, came down to the street and found me, commissioned a piece, and immediately went back upstairs. I wrote an inspired scene with them on that balcony; I had known immediately, even while writing it, that it would make the cut for the next edition of Bang It Out, and it did. "We broke up a couple of months ago," he said, kind of sheepishly. "But that's okay. It happens. It was worth it. And I still cherish your piece."

SMUT STAND REPORT: Oct. 14, 2014 (New Orleans)

SMUT WHILE U WAIT, OOPS

SMUT WHILE U WAIT, OOPS

WHEN: 4 hours (9:45pm-1:45am), Oct 14, 2014. WHERE: mural fence next to the Art Market, Frenchmen Street, New Orleans. OUTPUT: 6 custom works, including a fast, rough blowjob leading to a belt-wielding smack-down; a gay three-way that started with a two-player Rusty Trombone; and another straight scene that involved doggy style but had to "be connected, somehow".

I do not mind saying that I was feeling a little fragile as I was heading to Sidewalk Smut last night. A challenging personal situation had emerged, and although my billet hosts had been very kind when I leaned my forehead against the kitchen wall and started crying—they brought me a whisky and ginger ale from the bar around the corner and sat and talked me through—I was not feeling at all sexy. Not that I need to BE sexy when I write this stuff, but I need to feel like the bits in my psyche that are sexy and confident are at least somewhere near the surface, in order to meet my clients halfway and interact with them on the right level. Also, when I'm tired, physically or emotionally, it is just much more difficult to bring the necessary focus for the consultation. I don't know what it is I am picking up when I do those interviews, but I need focus to do it. BUT. I generally subscribe to a "fake it 'til you make it" approach to life, and I also know from experience that the process of just doing it, you know, chopping wood and carrying water, needs to happen. I have no time for downward spirals. So I dragged my ass out, and let me tell you: I am very glad I went. Oh, the healing powers of sharing filth with strangers!

The flow of the street usually brings me a nicely varied stream of customers, and last night was no exception. I guess I just felt it more strongly than usually last night, like, I needed to remind myself of the extraordinary range of human sexuality and personalities, that there is beauty in all the differences. (Am I sounding a little woo? Maybe. I don't care. I take my comfort where I can get it.)

I love the different styles that people have in communicating with me. Some step up, rip open their ribs, and just dump their libido out in a giant sticky heap on my desk; no hesitation, all "here ya go, make something out of that, please!" Other people start out shy, or more pedestrian, but as we get to questions that really tap into their pleasure, or their awareness of things that are going on in their sex lives now, they just open up, like sensual flower-people, and even in the dim streetlight, I can see their faces flush and the smiles get a little softer around the edges, and they start to hold my eye contact better, and it's BEAUTIFUL. Last night I got a tough-ish guy and his slightly biker momma-ish lady, and they opened up to the experience by the end like WHOA.

Often with couples, one person starts out guarded and skeptical, with their partner bringing the enthusiasm. My one gay male piece was like that last night. I got more information from the man initiating the commission, while his partner stood there vaping away, a slightly superior tilt to his eyebrows. When that partner walked off after the last question, the primary customer leaned in and said, "I don't know if it's helpful, but he and I met through mutual friends at a threesome." Um, YES, that is helpful information! I do group sex stories rarely; I don't like to do them, mostly because my policy against using proper names makes pronouns particularly tricky in scenes involving more than two people. For these guys, I went straight into it, rimming and Rusty Trombones and a show-offy doggy moment, and the skeptical partner was so impressed that he tipped me another $20 on top of the commission.

The final client of the night was one of the more open ones, a youngish off-duty taxi driver. First of all, he had witnessed two other customers receive their smut, readings and all, and had seen their pleasure, so he really wanted that for himself. Secondly, he was stoned and feeling the serendipity of finding me there. He was supposed to have been on duty that night, but "something told me not to," so he just called out sick and got stoned and wandered Frenchmen Street until he ran across me. He was feeling the seductive hand of Fate, was the idea, I guess, and who's to say?

He mentioned, as an addendum to the interview, that he had stopped watching porn 10 weeks before, and was finding sex to be different like WHOA. He was noticeably more interested in the personality of a girl than before, he said, and he craved chill emotional connection. Doggy style and mysticism are not incompatible, apparently.

SMUT STAND REPORT: Oct. 11-12, 2014 (New Orleans)

WHEN: 6.5 hours (8:30pm-3am), Oct 11, and 4.5 hours (8:30pm-1am), Oct 12, 2014. WHERE: mural fence next to the Art Market, Frenchmen Street, New Orleans. OUTPUT: 13 custom works and one piece of microsmut over the course of two nights, including a sweet girl-on-top ride with lots of structural reinforcement; two exhibitionist outdoor sex vignettes that DIDN'T involve an alley (and one that did, I'll be honest, what? alleys are fun!); and my favorite kind of buttsex scene, the kind that has emotional connection underneath.

I'll be honest, keeping up with the Smut Stand report is a bit of a trick in New Orleans, when I'm out there almost every night, and the shifts are really long (5-6 hours, versus the three-hour sessions I usually put in at festivals), and JEEZUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER, so much shit just keeps HAPPENING and I meet all kinds of amazing people. Each night would be its own goddamn novella, and some nights I'm just too wiped to get on it when I come home, and too tired the next day, and then WHOOOSH, three days have passed. I'm going to try to get better at it, but until then, I just wanted to give a few highlights from this past weekend.

  • Another redditor sighted me out there, and he was leading a bachelor party of stone-cold geeks. "OHMIGOD I SAW YOU ON REDDIT, YOU WERE ON REDDIT WEREN'T YOU, GUYS, GUYS, HEY GUYS, THIS WAS THE SMUT LADY ON REDDIT, WE HAVE TO DO THIS. " Okay, son, it's okay, I'm available for a consultation. Please chill.
  • My last client on Saturday night was a persistent but polite woman with a Southern accent of some sort. She missed her time window twice, kept coming back slightly more drunk than before, and the funny thing was, the more drunk she got, the more she sounded, to my ear, like Dolly Parton. So when we finally got down to the consultation, at 2:30 in the morning, damned if I didn't mind how late I ended up staying for her, because she was polite and forthcoming and it felt like I was totally talking with Dolly Parton about butt sex.
  • A lovely rockabilly couple from Miami swung by and really dug down deep for me. I gave them a face-sitting scene with some pillow-soaking squirt action that they won't forget anytime soon. In exchange, they shared with me a sex act that I would like to try, with the best name ever. It's a handjob, with lots of lotion, where the hands are just squeezed down over the cock, one hand at a time, over and over and over and over. The couple called this "The Infinite Vagina." MIND. BLOWN. Mostly by that perfect name.
  • My last client on Sunday night was an out-of-town doctor and the woman he picked up for the night from a strip club somewhere in the French Quarter. During my pitch, I mentioned that I was a phone sex operator; she held up her hand for a high-five and said, "Get it girl! I do cam work and stripping!" Sex worker solidarity, I like it. During the interview, it became clear that they were both dominant types in sex, and exhibitionists as well, so I just put them in a swingers' club with a brick wall and let them fuck-fight it out.

The clients that made me happiest of all this weekend was the straight married couple from Indiana. They have been together nearly 29 years, after having practically grown up with each other as part of an immigrant community from a former Soviet republic. She wore a big cross around her neck, which made me a little nervous at first, but she came back when she said she would, with a big smile on her slightly sweaty face and her grey-mustachioed husband in tow. THEY WERE AMAZING. From the very beginning of their relationship they have been experimenting: watching porn together, sending dirty care packages to each other during periods of separation, trying different positions. She goes to a sex toy shop once a month and just… picks something out! Unlike 95 percent of my clients, they were able to answer my question about a recent or vivid pleasant sexual discovery! (Prostate stimulation, w00t!) The woman said, "One of my biggest fears is that we'll get bored with each other." Feeling a little dazed by how fucking awesome and creative they obviously were together, I looked at her and said, I don't think that's going to happen any time soon.

SMUT STAND REPORT: Oct. 9, 2014 (New Orleans)

WHEN: 5.75 hours (8:15pm-2am), Oct 9, 2014. WHERE: mural fence next to the Art Market, Frenchmen Street, New Orleans. OUTPUT: five custom works, including a sweaty softcore cowgirl scene; a strap-on getting tossed to the floor to make room for some clit-on-clit scissoring; and some rough alley sex (including choking) for a couple that wasn't "really a couple", but had been together for the past week and clearly were just getting out of their hotel room for a couple hours to air out the sex stink before they suffocated. (So they brought it out onto the street, YAY!)

Last night's smutting experience could not have been a more amazing contrast to the Night of the Living Dead two nights ago, not even if someone had written it.

First of all, I got my first commission within 10 minutes after taping my signs up, before I even got to get my stationery supply organized. And the client was… it was beautiful. The woman was on a girls'-only vacation with her friends, and this piece was to be a birthday present for her husband, who she had married as an arranged marriage a year or so ago. When she mentioned the arranged marriage, it seemed that she was expecting me to be shocked in some way; when I wasn't, she leaned in a little, wide-eyed and joyful, and said, "But you know, we actually fell in love! I wasn't expecting that!" She had an answer to my question, about a recent or vivid discovery in sex, but ended up being too shy to tell me. Now I will forever wonder what it was.

Another customer gave me such good feels, when she asked for a piece to send to her new-ish lover. She wanted something as much cerebral as physical, which, fine, I can dig, but that's not what made me so happy to do her piece. She and her lover are both technicians in big-budget traveling theatre, and so their paths criss-cross each other all over the US. It used to be they could meet up every couple of weeks; now it's up to once a month. Please, if there is a patron saint for long-distance lovers and work-driven wanderers, let me be your channel for commissions like this. Let that story bring whatever love dust and magic they need right now.

In spot of occasional low-grade dodginess from one of the fence-dwellers (he kept trying to chat me up while I was working), I have made a couple of tentative acquaintances over there. I met the Art Market manager, who was VERY enthusiastic about the Smut Stand. She immediately understood and approved of the red-light visual metaphor, and even offered some suggestions about ways to beef it up. I think she will like the sign I made. Oh, and I made friends with an illustrator over there against the fence, who showed up a couple of hours after I set up. I asked if I would be stepping on his toes by being on that side of the street, and he laughed and said, "No, man, it's not my sidewalk! I'm happy to have you over here, I like your style!" At the end of the night, we traded wares, one piece of cock-sucking microsmut for a slightly fantastical sketch of a guy with a big dick and a peacock feather. I feel that was one of the most appropriate swaps I've ever made with a fellow street vendor.

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