Neon Nights (NSFW)

I’m no sex or drug expert but I’m fairly certain Brenda wouldn’t have given Dartanian an alley blowjob within moments of meeting him if she was sober. In my limited experience, women are only that forward in strip clubs where their flirtations are usually limited to surface encounters, and their motivations are as clear as their Lucite heels.

*
Dartanian and I were killing time in Ybor before heading to Thee Dollhouse for the first night of the 2013 NightMoves Awards Weekend. He confessed that, so far, the weekend wasn’t living up to his expectations after reading my coverage of FetishCon. And, it certainly wasn’t living up to the porn star name, "Dartanian," he christened himself with for the visit.

Dartanian had flown to Tampa in the hopes of using my loose connections to the adult industry to fuck a porn star. Despite my apprehensions about unleashing him at a work function, I couldn’t say no. He was my oldest friend. We shared an efficiency for four years in college. He had been one of my two groomsmen. In the end, I told him to come. I had just started dating Robin exclusively—my first foray into monogamy since my divorce following the AVN Awards in January—and I needed someone to fill in as my stunt cock for the weekend.

*
Dartanian and I met Brenda and Roxanne—(not their real names)—while walking to our car in Ybor. Roxanne recognized me from my second job bouncing at a St. Pete bar. She occasionally stopped in with her boyfriend to pick up a second woman for threesomes. Brenda was one such woman.

By way of saying hello, Brenda popped Dartanian's suspenders and complemented his mustache—both of which were peacocking ornaments inspired by his recent discovery of the pick-up Bible, The Game. Soon they were grabbing each other’s asses, then kissing, then retreating behind a box truck in the parking lot.

During their absence, Roxanne mused about how she loved watching her boyfriend fuck Brenda. Roxanne’s friends all assumed her boyfriend was manipulating her into having threesomes, but group sex was her fantasy. For her, sex was a beautiful thing. I nodded, though I wonder if she would use such glowing terms to describe what was happening in the alley.

Roxanne and I snuck around the box truck to see how the new lovers were getting along. Brenda was perched on the truck’s bumper with her skirt over Dartanian’s head. She mixed first-date chitchat with dirty talk.

“Give it to me,” she moaned. “So where are you visiting from?”

The couple moved around the other side of the truck to get some privacy, and so Brenda could return the favor. It took five minutes or so for the couple to realize they were in full view of the dumbstruck patrons at a tiny bar across the street.

Back at Roxanne's car, Brenda told Dartanian to enter his name as Darla in her phone. She was in the process of breaking up with her boyfriend. Meanwhile I texted Robin a photo of Dartanian and Brenda in the alley. My intention was to alleviate her fears of me misbehaving by providing full disclosure. I wanted to prove that I could be a passive sex writer who remained on the sidelines while helping my friend get laid. Her response was less than positive. I immediately reconsidered the efficiency of full disclosure in a healthy relationship.

*

Thee Dollhouse’s neon sign glowed in the Tampa night like carnival lights. This adult funhouse was filled with artifices of women shaped by silicone, heels, makeup, and stage lights. It was a playhouse where men could make-believe with living dolls.

Thirty porn stars crowded a side bar. Dartanian used my press badge and my SLR camera to imbed himself in this group. He took pictures of stars, saying things like, "Grab her boob. Don't worry, it's cool. I'm a professional. I work for Creative Loafing."

One of the things I loved and hated about Dartanian was his ability to inhale the moment like a line of dirty cocaine. In that moment he truly believed he was a professional photographer. This troubled me for a number of reasons. For one, I worried he'd give Creative Loafing a bad name, if only because he would lessen the effectiveness of using the same line when I introduced myself to porn stars.

*
Robin texted me, asking what I was doing. The alley blowjob had made her a bit less trusting of my profession. I invited her to join me. Her presence would make it more difficult to fish for a story, but I also had to show her that I wasn’t elbow-deep in an orgy. That and I was excited to have an appropriate outlet to direct my sexual energy.
*

Princess Felicity Jade grabbed my ass to say hello. Normally I wouldn’t have thought twice about this greeting; an ass grab in the world of adult entertainment is as meaningless as a handshake. But I was in a new relationship, with new rules. What if Robin arrived just in time to see this transaction? I sat in the corner to protect my coveted ass, but this only left me vulnerable to strippers who kept dropping in my lap like sexy grenades ready to decimate my relationship.

*
When Robin arrived I gave her the background story on each porn star, trying to portray them as unique snowflakes. I explained how Bonnie Rotten had spider webs tattooed around her nipples, and how Brittney Amber got her start at The Bunny Ranch after seeing the reality show about the famed brothel.