February 19, 2012
Vintage
Aaliyah Love strapped on a pair of roller skates and we ventured outside for this vintage inspired shoot from early in our working relationship.
February 16, 2012
Anomalous
At night, from my bedroom window I can see a million lights; so many that night feels only slightly less bright than daytime does. I can also see the place that I used to live from here; I think that was at least two lifetimes ago, maybe three. In the time since I’ve left, I’ve had three mailing addresses in two different cities on two different continents. I’ve fallen in love, out of love and in love again. I’m not the same person that I was the last time that I called Las Vegas home; I’m more optimistic, healthier and I have a greater appreciation for what I can do here.
Somewhere in the middle of all the places that Mina and I discussed when coming to terms with having to leave Amsterdam, Las Vegas became apparent as the right place for what each of us needs to do now. There are shows here and plenty of teaching opportunities, so she can dance. There are models that I’ve got a solid history with that I can photograph and many new ones interested in working with me. Las Vegas doesn’t give away opportunity, but if you are willing to work for it; you can find it.
The pace of life in New Orleans sounded something like “slow down” and it was what I needed when I left Las Vegas the last time. I did, too; I slowed down as much as I could while still making forward progress. It was needed; a welcome break after working very hard for a very long time and no longer being certain of if it was even what I wanted to be doing. I took that time to regroup and decided to move on to someplace else when I had. Amsterdam was someplace I’d wanted to try for years and while the moment that I acted on it wasn’t the most opportune I needed to try at very least. I had three months and a backup plan to go to New York or Las Vegas if it didn’t work, so here we are.
She came home from an audition this morning and crawled back into bed with me; she’d left early and was done before I woke. I’d slept late for a change; something I’d been unable to do since returning. We only have one set of keys at the moment and she’d left without them, so she had to call me to open the door for her. I went back to bed and she followed, undressing before she slipped under the covers and into my arms. I nuzzled her lightly and she told me how the audition had gone; she hadn’t gotten the part, but she’d gotten a lot of good feedback and met some new people who told her about another audition later in the day.
It’d been good for her to dance again, to move. I can tell the difference in her when she’s been holding still for too long. Today, she felt like movement and it appealed to me. I slid my hands over her firm legs and then between them, making her come once, twice, three times before deciding that I was too turned on to let it go at that. We fool around all the time; making each other come much more often without intercourse than with, but that means that when we do have sex, it’s because we are both in the mood, both want it and by virtue of the waiting, the wanting, it’s very, very good.
February 8, 2012
Carina
Circus Wanted
A pair of misfits is seeking a circus to join. We have skills of all sorts, including lion taming (ok, they aren’t really lions; chihuahuas with lion cuts, but it’s great, trust me), fire breathing (this isn’t always intentional, but it’s kept mostly under control), tumbling (this happens most often after attempts at breathing fire) and all sorts of dazzling feats that are sure to draw a crowd. We’ll work for cheap (you can pay us in booze and tutu’s), take up little space (though we are raising a mouse army that requires a good deal of pampering) and have our things packed. Looking to start immediately.
I’d written this post on craigslist as part of the correspondence between Carina and I and I was holding the response in my hand. I looked at the ornate handwriting on the postcard and without reading a single word I knew who it was from. Her penmanship always made it seem that the address was drawn and not written. I walked outside of the mail service with my keys still in hand and I looked at the front of the card. It was a David Lachapelle print full of vivid colors and pretty faces. It had a circus-like quality to it that felt like Carina through and through. We’d been sending one another books and trinkets, postcards and letters for a long time, keeping a distance and sometimes falling out of contact, but always finding one another again.
I’d known Carina for almost three years before we ever spoke on the phone and still to this day we’ve never met in person. We became acquainted by accident in a webcam chat room that I was monitoring, when I mistook her for someone that I knew. By the time that I figured out that she wasn’t who I thought she was, I was already enjoying the conversation so it didn’t matter. It sort of reminded me of a time when I was very young (first grade perhaps) and had let a helium balloon go with a note attached to it that had my address on it. I’d gotten a pen pal that lived not far from me in exchange for one red balloon.
She’d sparked my interested initially because she was a photographer as well, as fetish was her speciality. She photographed live shows and identified herself as a domme, so we had more than a few things in common. From what I could see of her photo’s she seemed like someone that I’d want to have model for me; as we talked more it seemed less important to have her model for me and more important that I should know her.
When we finally did speak on the phone, I was taken by the dreamy quality of her voice (which matched her hand writing perfectly). I thought that if I’d ever created an imaginary friend for myself, it would have been Carina Crash and if you told me that I’d dreamed her, I’d hesitate to tell you otherwise. We talked for hours at a time, making lofty plans and discussing our own personal trials and tribulation. We laughed, which was something that I really needed just then. She had a knack for calling when I needed to take my mind off of something that was troubling me and after a few minutes on the phone with her I’d usually forget what I’d been blue about.
No matter where life has takes either of us, I feel these years later that I’ll always have a friend in Carina Crash. When we finally do meet in person it’ll be a monumental occasion that will be filled with great pomp and circumstance. It’ll be befitting of a friendship that has grown even without our ever having formally met; it’ll be as though as though the circus has come to town.
