Darklady on the Road: Making the Rounds
Sleep is for the weak and the sick. I’ve spent the past three weeks telling myself this and have very nearly got myself convinced.
Week One: Las Vegas, Nevada. Reason: Internext-Expo (online porn convention), Adult Expo (video porn convention), Bondcon (bondage and bondage model convention), and the AVN Awards (Academy Awards of video porn). Lodging: Frontier Hotel and Casino. Not the most glamorous of digs, but that’s fine with me. I’m a simple girl who appreciates simple things — and there’s nothing quite like watching a grown man thrown from a mechanical bull for cheap thrills.
This is not to say that I don’t enjoy the enormous marble bathtubs and glass showers at The Venetian, but I also don’t expect or require them. Besides, the bathtubs in the Frontier are amazingly deep – if dimly lit – and the showers have enough water pressure to remove years from a woman’s face. Although the clock radio didn’t work and the smoke alarm insisted steam was a safety hazard, the king size bed provided plenty of room for sprawling and sleeping. Except that sleep is for the weak, especially in Vegas, especially when work requires hours of drunken strip club and sex party attendance late into the early morning. Pity me if you can dig deep enough to find any.
Week Two: Portland, Oregon. Reason: Recovery and regrouping. Invariably ill after a week of dry Las Vegas air, the company of many thousands of strangers, endless hours of drunken partying, daily early morning writing deadlines – and no sleep — I was tucked into my pillow top king sized bed by my attending lover, who then lit a fire in the nearby fireplace, poured Nyquil down my throat, and kissed me goodbye. Weak and sick, I slept – for days. I faintly remembered being fucked silly in that very bed prior to leaving for Las Vegas. Ancient history.
Week Three: Boston, Massachusetts. Reason: Arisia science-fiction convention. Lodging: Multiple and uncertain. The plan was five nights at the apartment of my favorite cross dressing writer, Charlie Girl (aka Charles Anders) (www.charliesanders.com, with days spent moderating panels about writing, polyamory, and pornographic comic books.
The reality was nights of SM debauchery and rest wherever I could find a place to lay my head. Night one found me sleeping (literally) with open source software spokesman Eric S. Raymond, who played knight in shining armor to this tragic princess. Night two found me blushing crimson when reunited with a previous con’s bathroom fling, bound and tasting the stinging kiss of a single tail whip for the first time, and crashing ever so briefly in my own hotel room. Night three included exploring Boston’s T and commuter rails to Burlington in order to enjoy the hospitality of a kinky poly couple. Night four saw the temperature plummet and me enticed once again away from Charlie Girl, this time to a heatless house in Dorchester with monogamous friends, where I heard a story of bisexual discovery from one of them before drinking Balvenie 21-year-old port wood cask scotch whiskey with the other.
Tomorrow I return home — exhausted but socially enriched – to the safety of my very own bed. Let me assure you of this: I’m no longer sick and I’m by no means weak. I may not have got much rest while I’ve been healthy and traveling – but the last thing I plan on doing when I get home is sleeping.
– Originally published in Playtime Magazine –