Posted by Lex Konrad in Dispatches | Nov 21, 2008
Whiskey river take my mind
Don’t let her memory torture me
Whiskey river don’t run dry
You’re all I’ve got, take care of me
-Willie Nelson, “Whiskey River”
The White Rabbit. Yeah, no. The last time I was here a dude tried to grab my ass and a chick tried to become my stalker. Crazy town, man. Crazy town.
***
The Axe Man tries to talk my wife and me into buying raffle tickets but I’m not yet drunk enough to try my luck at anything.
***
Viviane is all like I haven’t seen you in a while and I’m all like yeah I know I’m an unreliable friend.
***
I cannot think of anything intelligent to say to Tess and Selina because I’m tall and their cups runneth over.
***
The Bad Man shows up and everyone sez “Oh hey!” And then Sinclair shows up and I give her a hug and I’m meaning to ask her for tips on bending hotchix to my will but then someone says something and I forget.
***
Gotta get some air. The Calico Cat is lost so I text her directions. “How do you spell Forsyth?” I ask the Bad Man.
“Does it matter?”
The Calico Cat looks like a pharmaceutical sales rep. “Nice power suit,” I tell her.
***
The Axe Man and I try to convince the Bad Man to give his eager 20-year-old a go. Having been frustrated in the pursuit of an ideal, I’ve learned to err on the side of pleasure.
Ronen snaps some pictures of us while we’re talking. Leslie is confused because he does not give her time to pose. “He’s taking anti-portraits,” I explain.
***
Morpheus tells me I’m the only one who’s made the connection between his name and the name of the bar we’re standing in. I feel special.
***
I admire the Bad Man’s tenacity. When I meet his former paramour I can see why he’s been holding out. “She’s delightful!” I announce. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but she reminds me of someone.
Leslie takes a shine to the Bad Man’s former paramour’s saucy, tattooed friend.
***
I hold in my hand a slip of paper that entitles me to take liberties with Rachel. Do I just come right out and ask?
I come right out and ask.
She removes her glasses and bends over the bar. I am not satisfied with my first attempt, but the second blow lands solidly upon her right buttock.
When Leslie takes her turn a man tries to sidle up to the bar. “Back off!” she cries. “Spanking in progress.”
***
A youngchick is there for her birthday party. She cannot find anyone to sign her calendar so I lead her around the room introducing her to people. “You should come hang out with us,” she sez.
***
On my way past the coat check I spy a tallchick with curly blond locks. Hot and a little funny looking. Just my type. I stop in my tracks and drink her in head to toe. She smiles. I wait a beat and turn around.
***
Bad Man and company are headed elsewhere. “If you pick these girls up you are welcome to bring them out to meet us,” he sez.
“Dunno. I’m getting a straight vibe and I’m trying to avoid straight women right now.”
***
The tallchick stands on the sidewalk looking bored. Les and I strike up a conversation with her. The woman is Puerto Rican and speaks with a lispy accent. We meet her husband, who does not seem the least bit put off that we are chatting up his wife. She invites us back inside, where she buys us a round (and, egads, a couple shots). I speak with a friend of hers while Leslie slyly obtains the tallchick’s number.
***
We leave, fully intending to hop on the train or whatever, but then I see that Katz’s is still open. I order a pastrami on rye. The sandwich guy hands Leslie a bunch of pickles. We walk down the block to Bereket and while Leslie’s in there ordering falafel I tear into my deli sammich, which is so savory I have to steady myself against a wall lest my buckling legs give out.
I had forgotten that it is sometimes possible to feel the presence of God.
***
The Slipper Room, scene of Leslie’s impromptu burlesque many moons ago. The Bad Man is there with his former paramour and his former paramour’s friend. Leslie falls into an intense conversation with the paramour’s friend while the Bad Man stands, rather stoically, against a booth. I inquire as to the origin of his discontent.
Shrugging helplessly, he says, “She’s in love with someone else.”
All night she’s been happily feeding him the hangman’s rope. It’s like watching someone get kicked in the nuts. Repeatedly. You cross your legs in sympathy.
I’ve been there before.
***
The torture continues. I don’t understand why people play these games — games which serve no purpose other than to introduce bitterness into the world.
***
“I finally figured out who you remind me of,” I tell the paramour.
“Who’s that?”
I am grinning now. “The most evil woman I ever dated. I still remember the moment I decided to break up with her: We were lying in bed one morning and she decided to call in ‘sick’, but when her secretary answered she yelled at the poor girl for picking up on the third ring.”
“Hey! I don’t even have a secretary.”
***
A man in a suit offers me a smoke. It’s weird how people latch on to me. “So what do you do?” I ask him.
“I fuck chicks.”
***
Another strange night draws to a close. The Bad Man’s girls leave, and in time so do the rest of us.
“Forget about her,” I call out as he shuffles across the street. “You deserve someone who wants to be with you.”
So do we all. So do we all.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Nov 19, 2008
The room is crowded. People are on their third or fourth cocktails. We are talking about weaknesses.
“What’s your weakness, Lex?” someone asks.
I bite my lip, trying to formulate an appropriately clever riposte, when DangerGirl interjects: “Blowjobs!” She lets out a hearty laugh and pinches my midsection. Her dark eyes pierce me.
“What can I say? This woman knows me.” There is much rejoicing.
Later on I’m alone on the patio getting some air. The heavy door opens. DangerGirl leans out to say goodbye. I frown at her. “Get your sexy ass over here and give me a hug.”
We kiss. There is something heavy in my jeans and when I place her hand upon it she smiles. I rush to undo my belt and free my cock, which is by now standing at full attention. She lowers herself, gracefully, to her knees.
DangerGirl’s soft, divine tongue belies her sadistic streak. As she works her mouth around me, her tongue seemingly in motion over the entire surface area of my cock, I am not, I realize, the slightest bit tempted to guide her. Lost in the sensation, I take shallow, shuddering breaths.
She may be on her knees but there’s a fierce intensity in her eyes. She knows she’s got my number.
I hear laughter coming from the other side of the door. We’ll have to stop soon but for now I want to enjoy this. I place my hand over hers and sigh, my gratitude radiating out to the cosmos for bestowing upon me the gift of such understanding friends.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Nov 02, 2008
“[W]e are not bad at it, not at all. To be sure, alone neither Brigitta nor I is ever quite so cunning or brave, but together it seems that we strongly reenforce one another’s waywardness, and, as the nights go by, become more and more adroit at charming perfect strangers. Yet no matter how skillfully, how professionally, we come to maneuver as a team, I still go a little weak and dizzy when it appears that we have actually succeeded in finding a willing third…
— Philip Roth, The Professor of Desire
You are a fool.
Trapped in your delusions, you never fail to miss the obvious. You set your sights too low. You never take things far enough. It always comes as a revelation that someone, somewhere might take an interest in you.
You want her number. She wants to fuck you.
You didn’t shave your balls, and when you arrive she doesn’t pay you much mind. She spoke of blood and needles when you first met. Never mind that she was sweet and young and beautiful — you assumed she wanted something you could not offer. So you put her out of your mind. You didn’t think about her tits (how pert!), nor, God forbid, did you let yourself believe you might get a look at her cunt (how pliant and wet!).
It is much easier to impress civilians.
Her hair is different now. She is different now. Bite your lip when she glances in your direction. Smile when she approaches, squatting beside you and placing a pale hand upon your thigh. Ever the thoughtless one, it doesn’t occur to you to slide over until your wife insists upon it.
And yet even at this moment, even as she sits a little too close, even as she strokes your chin, you are still thinking about getting her number. Try to socialize with other people. After all, this is why you let yourself out of your cage tonight. Realize this is utterly pointless; you cannot tear yourself away from her.
Seduction is useless. The pupils, for example, dilate involuntarily. And the skin flushes. And the pulse quickens. None of this can be faked, the survival of the species being too essential to entrust to the machinations of the intellect. Words are unimportant. As the two of you draw closer, tell her about the time your college roommate claimed to have broken his penis during a night of rough sex.
People gather their things. Don’t mask your disappointment when she rises from her seat. “Leaving us already?” you ask. The way she looks at you tells you everything you need to know. “No, I’m just getting a beer,” she says. Accompany her to the counter, and when you get there ask the bartender to give you the worst beer he can find.
This is the Bad Man’s bar and it may as well be enemy territory. Your wife lifts her shirt to reveal her red bikini top. The bartender tells her she cannot do this. “This has to be the lamest bar in New York,” you tell the Bad Man. “What’s the attraction for you?” Your wife interrupts: “Why are you all just sitting there?” The apple of your eye shrugs. The Bad Man shrugs. You shrug.
Leslie takes the girl’s hand and leads her to the space in front of the DJ booth. Observe them in the quiet moments between words. You pretend not to notice when the girl’s hands find your wife’s ass. Something in you stirs.
When the three of you are alone the conversation turns seductive. Don’t be afraid to touch. “Do you like my ass?” she asks, rising from her seat. You and your wife squeeze her firm buttocks, pausing only to hide your pleasure from the angry eyes of the sex gestapo. Only now can you be certain of the young lady’s intentions. Wrap your arms around her. “We should go somewhere more comfortable,” she says in easily decipherable code. Everything is automagic now.
6.3 miles. 22 minutes. As the city scrolls by and your hand slides up the girl’s leg you catch yourself wondering how many times the cabbie has seen this. Drop your wife off at the bodega around the corner. Hand your credit card to your new playmate. The two of you laugh as she fumbles around in the dark trying to find the slot.
All you wanted was her number.
People think you are brilliant with women. You are clueless like everyone else.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Advice | Oct 30, 2008
A sexy reader by the name of Kate inserted the following into my inbox:
I’ve been an avid reader of your blog for several years now. At long last I’m dating a lovely gentleman who shares my proclivity for swinging. What we are now discovering is the minor issue of how one goes about pursuing a swinging “lifestyle.”
We have been very fortunate in that a mutual female friend has resulted in several threesomes. Sadly she lives in Florida and is not available on a regular basis. So I thought I’d consult an expert on how we could meet someone/several someone’s who would be interested in our desires.
We attended Le Trapeze about a month ago and were very turned off by the whole experience. The clientèle left quite a bit to be desired in that A) They did not ask to participate, B) They were relatively unattractive and older as a whole and C) No actions were taken towards sexual safety.
We are in our mid-20’s and are a rather attractive couple. I’ve read about your exploits in bars, but must confess it sounds easier said than done. I’m very attracted to men and women, and would love to seduce a girl to bring back with both of us, but don’t quite know how one broaches the subject. “Hi, I think you’re cute and was wondering if you wanted to fuck me and my boyfriend” just seems a bit forward. So I guess I’m wondering where you go and how you create the circumstances you want. Also, how on earth do you get invites to the amazing parties you attend?
Thanks for getting in touch Kate. It’s always nice to find out someone has been reading NLP for a long time.
Le Trapeze sucks, as you discovered, but there’s really nothing magical about the parties we attend — it’s possible to have a shitty time anywhere. You have to make the magic happen. Talk to everyone, including people you aren’t interested in shagging. Ask them what events they’ve been to recently. Befriend kinky people, be they swingers or sadists. Get out of your comfort zone. Ask someone to show you the ropes (perhaps literally). Don’t overthink it. As an arbitrary starting point, try Chemistry on November 15th. The people who attend Chemistry represent a cross-section of New York’s sexual subcultures. Let your curiosity guide you from there.
I cannot overstate the importance of having an open mind, of enjoying the journey itself. You’ll learn a lot about yourself just by seeing what’s out there.
By all means be bold. Be forward. That will get you everywhere. On the night before our first swinger party Les and I spied a cute couple at our local bar. Leslie approached the female half, and after a few minutes of mild flirtation Les said: “My boyfriend shaved his balls for the first time tonight and he’d like to get your opinion on whether he did a good job.” After the shock subsided, the girl shrugged and stuck her hand down my pants. The newbies ended up coming back to our apartment an hour later.
So yeah, don’t be afraid to venture forth and make some heads explode. Directness is refreshing. (In that vein, I am disappointed that you failed to enclose a picture of your tits.) With enough practice you’ll find that perfect mixture of saucy and sly that renders you irresistible to either sex.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Opinions | Oct 26, 2008
Every word of the following is true:
1. Whenever possible, remain silent.
2. When asked about your past, give vague open-ended answers.
3. Have a great name.
4. Look fantastic in a suit, look fantastic in casual wear, look fantastic in anything, sound good, smell good, kiss good, strut around with supreme confidence, be uncannily successful at your job, blow people away anytime you say anything, take six hour lunches, disappear for weeks at a time, lie to everyone about everything, and drink and smoke constantly.
Sometimes the teevee forgets that it’s not art.
