Darklady’s Confessional: Love, Sex, and the L.A. Freeway System

Darklady’s Confessional
Love, Sex, and the L.A. Freeway System

There’s nothing like spending four hours lost on the LA freeway system to bring life into perspective and provide plenty of time for introspection.

It had been a successful trip to LA. I felt confident and happy after having successfully circumnavigated the city’s streets for three days, talked with the leather clad Felix (www.ilikeunderwear.com) about art and perversion over a delicious Indian meal, met with the president and PR department of Topco Sales, browsed the racks of Pasadena’s Unruly (http://www.unrulyclothing.com) and found a darkly wonderful shirt to wear to my upcoming Masturbate-a-thon fundraiser (www.masturbate-a-thon.org). On the day in question, I arrived at Hustler Hollywood with plenty of time to spare before my presentation. Hell, I’d even managed to score a choice parking space.

Rocket scientist, former nightclub owner, shoe fetish book writer, and Hustler Hollywood’s Naughty Bits and Bites host, Stan Kent (www.stankent.com) had invited me to be a guest presenter at the trendy sex shop when we’d had lunch together during my previous visit to LA. Since I wrote the script for Sin City’s “Unforgettable,” starring Shay Sweet and Randy Spears, Stan had suggested that my theme should be “Porn Scriptwriting 101.” From his lips to Darklady’s ear. From my lips to about 30 sets of eager audience member ears.

At least half of the waiters in LA want to be directors and three-quarters of the waiters in West Hollywood want to be actors or models, so all you have to do is say “scriptwriting” and “porn” in the same sentence and you’ve got a crowd. They let me say a lot more than just that at Hustler Hollywood and I gotta tell you, there’s a delicious sense of liberation associated with not lowering your voice while telling a group of people inside of a coffee shop about a porn scene featuring a retired doctor fondly remembering how he fucked his now-dead wife in the ass on their ranch porch.

Eager members of my audience shared their own dream porn plots and won valuable prizes for doing so. After I’d heard about sex with super heroes, midgets, circus sideshow freaks, women with strap-ons, the girl next door, convent inhabitants, and magicians, I signed autographs and then adjourned to The Rainbow for chicken soup, Long Island Iced Teas, and conversation with someone who had a cunning plan for making quick money via porn.

The Rainbow is one of those hot LA nightspots where rising, gliding, and sliding rock stars hang out and bask in the adoration of friendly young women in snug, casual clothing. Once my dinner and drinks companion left, I indulged in one last Long Island and basked in the adoration of the drummer from Motorhead, who insisted that it would be a brilliant decision on my part to return with him to his hotel room for the exploration of some unspecified erotic delights. In spite of his beautiful accent and amiable demeanor, I declined, opting instead to spend four hours on the LA freeway system, grumbling at its radio selections, philosophizing with myself about life, love, and business, feeling simultaneously homesick and excited, missing my turns, watching the sun rise, and discovering suburban and coastal areas that I’d never known existed.

When I finally slid under the comforter on my bed and closed my eyes, I knew full well that I had to wake up in three hours and start writing. I also knew that the whole experience was worth the time, effort, and impending headache. I’ve never gotten anywhere in life by going the conventional route. Sometimes you need to miss a few turns in order to find adventure and yourself.

– Originally published in Playtime Magazine –

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