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Archive for the ‘money’ Category

What’s a smile turned upside down? Something much jollier than a frown, I think!

Just finished paying the bills, balancing the checkbook, assessing money stuff . . . thinking we’re doing all right. January was an expensive month (like, thousands of dollars more than what we budgeted), but we survived it. We stayed warm, ate well and I feel optimistic about February and very focused.

Thank you to everybody who supports us (currently or in the past or will again in the future) as members to our sites, camshow customers, and/or contributing donations, gifts, kind words, or telling other people online about us. You help make our lives dreamy and affirm my excitement over what we’ll be able to do with ourselves and our porn sites next year if we keep our noses to the grindstone in 2012.

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Links to check out:

• this sexy post from Delia about how my feet excite her (including pics of my toes and soles)
• Lightning Allie’s super-interesting post about how being right feels nice, but being wrong is better (I hope some other people comment so as to distract from the long-winded self-centered comments I left)
• pictures of Rugaru and his friends; I hate talking on the phone so I’m really glad I can see a little of what he’s up to on his blog. He’s new to blogging and twitter and stuff so if you have feedback or tips (don’t leave me in charge of showing him all the ropes!) or just some time to let him know you’re checking out where he’s at & going (if indeed you are/want to), I think he would like that.
• I deleted, added, and fixed links to some of the blogs in my sidebar. Still seems insufficient exposure to lots of our friends (and I know I’m probably missing a lot of people) but anyhoo. I really love a lot of those people!

Oasis and Jen just launched a new blog carnival that posts on Sundays. Here’s this week’s theme:

Our theme for this week is: Tell and/or show us your first naughty naked picture.

Everyone with a cell phone nowadays seems to be snapping off (and sxting) naked pictures of themselves – teenagers, celebrities, politicians. When did you take your first seXXXy naked pic? Who’d you bare it all for? And maybe most importantly, what was their reaction? And hey, if you’ve still got it, go ahead and show it!

My first naughty naked picture was taken right about the time I started growing pubes, so I definitely cannot post it here. Plus right about the time I was growing pubes was in the early eighties so we didn’t HAVE camera phones or the internet (or wishlists to get paid on the internet for our naughty pics). So naughty naked pictures were rare and unphotoshopped and glossy.

Around 4th or 5th grade I was pretty excited to get a Kodak disc camera (I told you; it was the 80’s! When disc cameras were fucking STYLIN’ and new!). I stayed excited about it until my friend Irene got one, too.

Copycat. She already had everything . . . why’d she have to get the one cool thing I had too?

Sleepovers only happened at Irene’s house, not at my house. My mom rarely let our friends spend the night, but we could go to other girls’ houses. So one night we were in her fancy girly bedroom – four poster bed, matchy-matchy furniture, etc. – and decided to play model & photographer. I didn’t have my camera with me, but Irene had hers, of course.

I pretended to be the photographer first while Irene modeled. I didn’t press the button to take pictures, I just made a clicking sound with my mouth and encouraged her, like “good . . . CHT! More . . . CHT! Very sexy . . . CHT! CHT!”

Then it was my turn to be the model. I took off all of my clothes while Irene played photographer. BUT SHE PRESSED THE BUTTON AND TOOK A REAL PICTURE!

We looked at each other all shocked and scared. When Irene gets scared and ashamed, her eyes get so big and her mouth so open. “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do??” She was quivering with fear, and it was ME naked in the picture!

I was like, “here, just take out the disc and we’ll break it up and throw it away – make sure your mom doesn’t find it!”

Irene held fast to her camera and told me I didn’t understand.

“No! We can’t throw it away! I’ll get in trouble!!”

“WHY? It’s *your* camera.” You’re the rich one, Irene. You have tons of stuff and probably half a dozen discs of film waiting to be used.

“I have pictures of our family camping trip on there!!”

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

“I have to tell my mom”

Fantastic. I should have known better than to play model and photographer with a girl who thought we were gay for humping each other and confessed to her mom when she stole candy.

*****

Irene’s mom was actually pretty cool about being woken up by her tear-stained daughter to  hear this particular confession in the kitchen with just a light from the pantry on while I just STOOD there. Irene’s mom said something reassuring about how little girls sometimes do these things and play with each other and she’d done it too (like, ONCE or something). And then she had us pray to Jesus about it. It actually wasn’t as freaky as it sounds even though Irene’s mom definitely was/is a conservative Jesus freak.

I was not soothed by the unfamiliar prayers (or by Irene’s mom being in agreement with her that the film with the precious camping pictures should NOT be destroyed), but it calmed Irene down and she went right to sleep after that while I was embarrassed and annoyed there would be no humping that night.

*****

Allow me to remind you again that this was the early eighties, and apparently totally normal / not a crime for a family to take a disc of film in for development that included a picture of a young girl’s bald naked front-crack.

So like a month later we were playing I-don’t-know-what on her Atari (I probably wasn’t even playing, but just WATCHING her play, because it was HER Atari and HER fancy house and instead of playing Pac-Man she’d opt to demonstrate a bunch of games I didn’t know how to play because she just wanted to show off and knew I didn’t have an Atari) and she got all serious and told me sotto voce that they got the pictures back.

I really wanted to have my picture, but she said they cut it up with scissors into itty bitty pieces. Because it was evil.

“What did I look like?”

“Really REALLY white. And skinny. Your head wasn’t in it, but we could see your crack. You looked gross.”

*****

So! That’s how my friend and her mom and dad all got to see my first naughty naked picture. And I didn’t.

Read more posts on FIRST naughty naked pics!

I’m on the 16th day of a 90 day thing. Not a diet or a cleanse or a new pharmaceutical regimen. No, not rehab either. But I think by the 90th day it might appear that way.

The reason I’m (vaguely) sharing this is to ask people to be as patient with me as I’m trying to be with myself instead of telling myself I don’t have time or that something good is taking too long or I’ve been healthy for four days so it’s time to go back to “normal” already! It’s definitely cutting into my routine because I’m going to a support group of sorts every single day, or twice in a day if I skip a day.

I told my sister about it and she could barely believe it: “Wow, that’s A LOT of leaving the house for you, Trixie. How’s that going for you?”

So yeah, as people who are close to me know, I don’t have a lot of stamina for interacting with people or even just being around them much (even though I *love* people!). Or even just leave the house much, as my sister pointed out. I’m able to do these meetings, though, because I know how long they last and there is a structure to each one and guidelines for behavior. And because I get so much out of going, even when some of the meetings start out and I’m like, “oh my god how the fuck am I going to sit through this?!?” and then every single time IT IS WORTH IT.

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The really big thing that’s happened in the past couple of weeks is that I’ve asked people for help. One is for help with the above stuff and the other person is for help with stuff YOU are interested in, stuff that has to do with our porn sites! This person is super DUPER awesome. We’re gradually going to tell you more about this person, and this person may tell you more and more, too. If you’re lucky! Most of the work she’s doing is behind the scenes, back-end stuff but it will free Delia and I up from having to do it (or in my case just sitting around being afraid of doing it. SO MUCH of it).

While two weeks in is too soon to get people (me included) looking around for grand results, I do already feel immensely relieved and things look (and feel) a lot simpler than they were in my agonizing, trying-to-do-it-myself, totally-confused-and-overwhelmed brain state. We’ve exhausted ourselves over the past ten years thinking that first we had to “get rich” to hire someone to help us, insanely getting the cart WAY before the horse. Delia’s been working her ass off on cam for the past few months so tell her “thank you” for making the money to help attract the work-time of this super duper new friend of ours! And thank you to all of you who buy shows with her and memberships from us!

For most of three days this week doing taxes and other money stuff consumed me. It shouldn’t take that long – I’m a moderately organized person, but not AS organized and on top of things as I should be to make quick work of filing (yes, late). Mostly my brain is just easily overwhelmed so I have to split myself into a couple of different characters: the inept, freaking-out person doing the taxes and the kind-hearted special-education teacher coaching myself through it all, breaking everything into manageable chunks, giving myself little pep talks after mini-breakdowns.

I also checked our credit reports and in general did everything as thoughtfully as I could. I know most people hate doing their taxes, but even though some aspects of it are challenging for me (and I don’t exactly look FORWARD to it like a trip to the beach) it’s always a kind of special time of year for me. I would even call it mildly spiritual. It’s the time when I assess a bigger picture than the most recent day’s, week’s or month’s unexpected financial traumas and give thanks for the money we’ve made and people who enjoy our work enough to pay for it, not just last year but in all the years that have gone before.

Finding out we owe almost $20,000 to the IRS (including payment plans we’re still on from the past) in addition to all of our credit card debt (WAY more than $20k) was also a spiritual opportunity and experience. I managed to apply lessons I’ve been shown to live in the present moment and realize everything is okay right now, even great. Our debt is just a nonsensical, meaningless series of numbers in terms of the now. We have the means to MORE than meet all of our basic needs and to keep doing our jobs and many other things we love to do. You might call it the brain’s way of protecting its host’s desire to continue living, but I call it profound and magical.

I do not call it denial, though. I spent hours simply looking at the numbers of how much we owe, making realistic goals for decreasing our debt by focusing more on the positive aspect of trying to increase how much credit we have available to us, and feeling genuinely excited that we can not only make significant dents in our debt, but even get out of it someday and experience more freedom.

The main reason I am able to feel positive and hopeful is Delia, though. Many weeks of late she has pretty much doubled our income by webwhoring for hours and hours upon hours while still updating her site every week. I pretty much drained her bank account to pay down our credit cards a wee bit (wee relative to the amount we owe, NOT wee looking just at the dollar amounts paid).

Anyway, I’m sorry for the interruption to sexy-time and updates; I did think I’d get the taxes done faster this year, but no such luck. I know I sound really calm about it, but I didn’t have anything left over to get anything else done. Yesterday I woke up at 5 am after only four hours of sleep, probably because my insides just wanted me to fucking FINISH already so after tossing and turning for awhile I just got up and aside from the money stuff I was too much of a zombie to get anything else done requiring brain power or eye focus.

We fell asleep around midnight laughing at a Simpson’s episode (Homer vs. Dignity) we’d already watched once at dinner, but it was so funny and apropos (“when the Simpsons once again have financial problems, Mr. Burns pays Homer to play pranks on others and humiliate himself in public”) we watched it again. I so relate to Mr. Burns and would love to have my own prank monkey! If Delia keeps working her ass off like this, someday she might be able to afford to buy me one!! I would love to throw her money at some poor schmuck while forcing him to writhe on the floor of a public restroom in a diaper. Yesssssss . . .

Dear BarackObama.com: I’m physically revolted by your “meet the president backstage!“, Michelle wants you to “sign Barack’s birthday card“, etc. spam.

GROSS.

Seriously, he’s the PRESIDENT.

I voted for him, that doesn’t mean I’m a panty-throwing groupie or histrionic fangirl gluing glitter to homemade sparkly-heart cards I send to him weekly with my diary entries attached.

*****

I think I should raise my pay-to-play rate on cam. I’m one of a small handful of English-speaking American blondes with hairy cunts on that site and stay busy at the standard $3.99 / 4.99 a minute rates. My bush is a TREASURE. What say ye, camgirls and fans?

*****

Note: I know, I still need to edit and post that Obama dildo video for members from way-back-when in which I type out a letter to him before sticking his likeness inside my great wet hope. Here are some free picture samples from the gallery:

Blue State Trixie & her Obama Dildo

I think hemorrhoids are totally patriotic, don’t you? Like, fuckin ALL AMERICAN!!

Anyway, what I’m TRYING to say is that maybe I *am* a fangirl . . . just stop embarrassing me with those weird emails inviting me to go on tour with him (FOR A PRICE) or whatever! It’s such a fucked-up pimp-like thing to do to the man. But thank you for reminding me that even the most powerful (according to the myths) man in the world is the subject of degrading and misleading marketing campaigns even worse than the ones webwhores are featured in.

Speaking of that, why is my current fave camsite promoting a big porn paysite on their front page? The worst part is the big porn paysite they’re promoting is known far and wide within the internet porn world as being unethical and fucked up – one that good webmasters refuse to promote because they own(ed?) a bunch of tube sites filled with stolen/pirated content. Oh well. Just one of those little compromises we deal with (trust me, THIS particular one is TINY compared to other shit that goes down in the camworld). At least I don’t have my wife writing to everyone in the fucking country telling people to sing me happy birthday or whatever. I *hate* that song!

*****

P. S. I really am blonde and hairy — the Obama gallery is from many moons ago.

All morning I’ve been thinking about fucking nineteen year old boys. Not any specific one, just a regular lineup of lithe little hard-muscled confused-yet-focused horny boys with motor hips and little curved dicks that don’t stop.

It’s because last night I ran across a video of Carol Cox with just the title of “Fucking a 19 Year Old”. I’m well aware of Carol Cox and that she fucks lots of people on her site and has lots of videos out there, but in my head it’s not something I crave to watch. Only by random surfing would I click and watch that, which is what makes it so out-of-the-blue to get so “inspired” by the awesomeness of it, just her smiling while this kid grunts his hips into her. No music, just those flesh-slapping fuck-sounds. No bullshit overproduction . . . it made it very voyeuristic, especially because I can imagine her husband Danny standing there behind the camera watching this kid who is decades younger than he is, fucking his wife.

We watched A Single Man the other night which had many beautiful young men in it and more than once I said out loud, Oh my god . . . I can’t even imagine being AROUND guys that age again. The chatter! The idealism! The way they think all these things they think and feel are NEW and mature and WOW!!

But somehow just watching Carol lying there having a torso of teen muscles pumping into her it made me realize it IS possible to have the cock without all of the talk. And I’m not a big old meanie, I probably would find a few of them charming in other ways, too.

Maybe all of the effort of lining such things up and getting hotel rooms and kids flaking out would be worth it — after all, it WOULD be a lot easier to shoot than us trying to shoot ourselves, which makes things more technical than we’d like them to be AND uses up both of our “talents” for only one piece of content. It really would make more sense for us to be regularly fucking other people for our sites.

I know, I keep saying it but keep hesitating. I don’t like all of the planning and rigmarole and relying-on-other-people involved in endeavors like that, especially living in an out-of-the-way place as we do; it’s really expensive and time consuming to get together with people away from home (and there’s no way we’re inviting strangers to our house to fuck us). Plus I am pretty sure (but not 100%) that Carol Cox and her husband actually do pay the guys featured in her videos – it’s a lot more professional than the way it’s presented in the fantasyland of the porn site (and I mean that in a GOOD way). We honestly can’t afford to pay other people for sex. OR waste time picking them up in bars (plus I hate bars, anyway).

But then I think how nice it would be to make something hot to look at just by lying there and enjoying some hormone-crazed fuck-machine of a teenager. Making him pull out and shoot big loads of spunk all over my tits. Thinking about this gives me very pleasant feelings.

Of course, I’d like to make them “audition” with a slightly-humiliating interview and videotaped jerk-off session first. I want to ask them questions and hear their voices shake while their impatient pricks twitch in their pants.

I look forward to the time when we have a stable of reliable boys (and/or GROWN men) like this to shoot with whenever we want to. I’m just not sure when, if ever, we’ll invest the time in finding and grooming them. Are you wondering why I’m more focused on shooting with men than women? Or why I’m emphasizing younger men as opposed to more age-appropriate lays? If so leave comments and maybe I’ll blog about it. Or just answer in the comments.

*****

God, I want someone to choke me. The RIGHT way. While I’m on top. Very few people have the touch or the right arm-length or understanding of how to not do it scary. It’s the pressure applied UP that I like to lean down into. I love the way it adds a tense time limit and everything slows down. Next time I find one who can do it I’m going to make him wear gloves, making it too difficult to get my pussy as far down on it as I suddenly want it to be. Because I’m held away. Just the tip.

*****

Delia has a hot semi-local who MIGHT shoot with her, but just the length of time of email back-and-forths and the guy’s lack of certainty about being on tape makes me think again that maybe it’s not worth the effort and bullshit. Of course I understand people’s reservations about being in porn, I just don’t have time to waste with their uncertainty or enough money to motivate them to treat it as more than just a fantasy they want to hot chat about late at night with no intention of following through. Oh wait, I asked Delia about that guy and apparently he’s actually ready to go, Delia’s just been waiting for the right time to schedule something. That’s exciting, right?

*****

Now I officially have two personal ads semi-written but not posted anywhere.

There’s another opportunity to worship women’s feet in Seattle on Thursday, September 9th (day after tomorrow) but this time I won’t be there. Hope to catch you at the next one! I’m *sure* you’ll have fun without me, though.

My end of summer beach feet with sandy, wrinkled soles.

I sort of promised myself that I’d only commit to another Foot Night if I had time to a) make peeptoes.com active, and b) schedule a few truly private sessions on top of the party to make the trip out there worth the investment of time and money. The times I’ve gone I was relatively busy but really only made enough money to cover the expense of the long drive + ferry ride and the cost of my pedicure and cheap shoes. It’s hard to be practical and say no to a foot party, though, when I love interacting with guys who are on the floor beneath me, pleasuring my feet!

Also, it’s just a lot more profitable and cost effective for me to stay home and do private shows on cam which I’ll be doing quite a bit more than usual to help pay for the cabin rental. It’s a good way to hook up with me (AND my feet, if you so desire): trixie.cammodels.com

Speaking of camming more often, Delia is available even more often than I am: deliats.cammodels.com

Nipple slip? I'm about to flash my big naturals on the beach!

Check out more preview pics from this beach gallery full of boobs, upskirts and toes!

Have you noticed us getting up earlier and going to sleep sooner on our cams? That’s (partly) because starting September 3rd I’m going to get up early to head over to the cabin we’re (good news!) officially renting to do off-cam no-internet work sans distractions. Normally I quickly grow disgusted with a morning-person routine, but now it seems totally different knowing there’s a purpose to it.

It rained heavily on Thursday. If I hadn’t gotten up at seven in the morning, excited about the possibilities of such early rising once the cabin time begins, I’d have never known there was any blue sky to be had that day. I’d have missed seeing this moon:

Blessing Bestowed from the West

There’s a place – a real live place – where women artists can apply for residencies. Actually, there are lots of places like that, where those kinds of people can get free lodging in inspiring locations to focus on their work, but the one I’m thinking of is SUPER DREAMY . . . fucking storybook-land perfection in terms of its tiny private artfully-crafted houses (each resident has one all to herself) and woodland setting.

Most shockingly dreamy of all is the way the women are catered to; the small handful of residents (women, all of them!) have a chef who prepares crazily wonderful dinners for them every night. There are pictures proving how thoroughly stocked the kitchen is with racks of zillions of containers of spices and rows of carefully labeled provisions and specialized pots and pans used to make what appears to be an ABUNDANCE of food every night just for these six or seven women. Meats and comforts and fresh green things and berries and sauces and fanciness and desserts and lots of colors and textures on big plates and side dishes.

On top of all that, the chef ALSO prepares individual baskets for each resident full of her favorite foods to help sustain her throughout the day while she works in her perfect little house. And there’s a garden full of plants someone else tends that each resident gets to pluck and cut flowers and leafy things from. FOR INSPIRATION AND SHIT!

I know that being there wouldn’t be actual utopia, but it does provide a model to ooh and aah over. I think it’s awesome that a very teeny-tiny percentage (wish it were more) of talented women in the world get to experience opportunities like that, to be told that their own self-directed art is so valuable as to warrant a few days . . . maybe even a whole month(!) . . . of concentrating on nothing BUT the work she most wants to do and that she will be sheltered and reliably fed to delicious excess if she likes so she can take care of her work while someone else takes care of her basic needs with sensual generosity.

Same time as picture above, but looking 80 degrees to the south.

What an exquisite fantasy! But it seems so decadent, like I know that I personally could never warrant such treatment. It’s a nice daydream but it actually makes me nervous to think about having such a giant privilege bestowed upon me. I’m nervous enough about the idea of renting this cabin, feeling like I need to prove that I “deserve” it. That I’m worth blowing more money on when I already have so much.

And then I remember that my grandma made my grandpa dinner every night to his specifications. Dished it up and brought it out to him. It wasn’t fancy, but she SERVED him. And every day she fixed him a box lunch even on the days when he was only working in his garage out back, a one minute shuffle away from the back door. I know times have changed, but when I was growing up I never fucking once saw a man prepare and serve a grown woman food. NEVER ONCE outside of restaurants (which I rarely saw) and pancake breakfasts at the Masonic Lodge where it was a wonderful novelty to see the men with aprons on, coming out to the long tables to pour coffee and bring us our hotcakes.

It wasn’t just my family that was like that. Most people my age and older grew up seeing men (and children) waited on at home and women NOT.  I suppose gender-blind egalitarianism is the ideal I should desire (and I do in some ways) but part of me needs to experience the balance of intimate privilege tipped dramatically towards women to undo what I learned by watching. I wasn’t brought up to BE that kind of woman who waits on men — not at all; I wasn’t taught with words to do it  — but that’s what all the women in my family DID to one extent or another and the men DID NOT. You have to be crazy to think that kind of learning is something you can just erase with your intellect when you grow up or even along the way with words of “you-go-girl” encouragement.

Looks promising upwards and eastwards

Even though I never grew up wanting to be a woman who takes care of a man, once I outgrew the entitlement of childhood I came to FEEL that having someone take care of me wasn’t something I deserved or could expect the way a man in my grandparents’ and parents’ generations could and that the only way to live my life just-so, to my specifications, was to live alone. I didn’t think this on a conscious level, but I think the past ten years (and then some) of webwhoring have involved more conscious efforts to recognize and reconcile this conflict; I want to work — to do MY work and do it MY WAY — and have someone else take care of the housekeeping and cooking. For my work to be the most important thing I do and everything else to be relegated to the distraction pile which I should be able to demand someone else pick up and put away. To believe that my work is so important that I should be angry and frustrated when I do not have the tools or environment to do it properly. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT MEN OLDER THAN I AM GREW UP EXPECTING AND DOING. And so what if their work wasn’t important or they would bankrupt the family with their business schemes? You didn’t fucking criticize the work, jobs or dreams of men. You just didn’t unless you wanted to be the evil villainous bitch in the story.

I shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to have as many places to do my work alone as my grandpa did: a garage, a basement, a toolshed, a closet where he kept his Black Velvet and other private treasures, and a windowless office he hardly went into that nobody else was allowed into that was always at least 15 degrees cooler than the rest of the house. My grandma didn’t have any place in her house that was her own like that, just like my mom didn’t have a special place in our tiny house for herself like my stepdad had a whole room for his model train. And if Grandma fucked up some shit in the kitchen Grandpa would go ballistic on her ass. So I guess maybe I SHOULD feel guilty about wanting all that man-privilege since being an abusive asshole came with the territory. I don’t know. But on Friday morning I’m going to work alone in the cabin AND I CAN HARDLY WAIT!!

Also? I’ve drafted a new personal ad for a slavey-houseboy type. Not putting it up for awhile though as that’s a whole time-consuming process in itself. I also keep wanting to blog more about how going to college totally distorted my idea of money and assessing the worth of an investment in myself, perhaps making me approach financial risk-taking in a more “manly” way than I would have otherwise.

More morning moon pics to come?

*****

So. I don’t anticipate members and fans seeing a noticeable change in focus on our sites because of this and will probably see more exciting stuff on cam rather than less since we have to cam more to pay for everything. One of the good things (in terms of “earning” my cabin keep) is it’s already making me more disciplined and focused in how I prioritize things, clarifying what needs to come first (which is really REALLY challenging when you have boatloads of everything to do and have an easily-overwhelmed mind like mine). Right now at the top of the list is simply getting ahead on shooting and getting updates lined up, so that’s what I’m going to get back to work on right now.

I often fantasize about having a windowless closet with a narrow cozy built-in bunk to sleep and daydream on. Where nobody can see me, cut off and curtained-in by dark, heavy layers of hanging clothes. Or of being in a fantasy sleeper-car on a train on a comfortably narrow berth, dark wood paneling all around with chugging train sounds and gentle rocking. Or of being in an even-smaller, quieter version of this cabin, this time with a built-in little bed. No electricity, no webcams. Or of having my bookwormhole.

Sometimes I close my eyes in bed and time-travel back to the best drugless, not-sick sleep I ever had. I went on a women’s retreat with a bunch of gals I really didn’t know. Upon arrival I half-assedly engaged in the crafts they’d set out, then went to the cabin. There were a handful of these cabins on the lake, a BIG lake with no motorized boats allowed. QUIET. The other women complained about the cabins – the uncomfortable bunks something they were only tolerating for the coolness of the Retreat. In the middle of the day while the cabins were completely deserted I climbed onto my little wooden shelf, nestled down into Delia’s perfectly awesome sleeping bag, faced the wall, and fell asleep for hours. Undisturbed, unseen, far removed, not missed. I absented myself from everywhere else except my private cocoon.

I got up for a late dinner, and that night slept again in a completely heavy, renewing, needy, guiltless way. Even with the women sharing the cabin with me, I felt alone with my earplugs in and my lack of intimacy with them. There was a woman on the shelf above me, two shelves holding a woman-each perpendicular to my head, and two shelves parallel to me across a tiny open space. I was the first person to go to bed, and the last one to wake up. I liked having the shelves of women around me, being in a small hibernating hive, quietly together without any of them knowing me. Not talking.

I was reading Strangers on a Train that trip. I accidentally left it at the lodge so I never finished it, but it was good to have it when I did. A sugar daddy sent it to me off my wishlist so I feel a little guilty over losing it, but my possession of the memories of that trip are so clear the book is still one of my treasures even though I don’t have it anymore.

*****

The opportunity to rent a small cabin/shed space came up this week, synchronous to a handful of needs/desires/opportunities converging on me/us. It’s the kind of thing I would never seek out because I don’t think I deserve it, but under the circumstances and upon careful thought and discussion we both recognize we’re way overdue for what it will offer. It is just THE THING. It’s not in a remote location — in fact it’s on very shared space minutes away — but because we’ve been there and know the person really well who’s renting it I’m familiar with the setting, comfortable with the people who might be around, and aware of the benefits of its location. I haven’t actually been inside this cabin on the property, but I’m going to check it out soon.

Yes, I’m worried about how we’re going to afford it, but the with the house and the cabin/shed we’ll be paying the same amount we were paying for rent on individual houses before we moved into this place with its cheaper rent. I’m pretty sure it will be worth the relatively small investment in terms of providing space and opportunity for more creative content creation for our porn sites, too.

It’s not a done deal but if it works out I will be healthier with a space to be solitary and invisible, to write without obligation or interruption (I know, we don’t have kids and we work at home, but there are SO MANY INTERRUPTIONS mostly named THE INTERNET and webcams and too much space with all of it messy with cables and overwhelming work things everywhere), to sleep with complete cozy abandon, and most excitingly for our fans this might give us the kind of space and convenience we need to have more sexual adventures with other people. I will have someplace to go if Delia wants someone over for fooling around, and vice versa (though I mainly anticipate fooling around with mySELF, dreams, and pages and pages of watery blue words). We’ll have a convenient place to go away together, away from work. Because working at home with 24/7 voyeur cams on you means never getting a break unless you leave, and when we leave work I want to relax, not wander around a mall or drive hours to see a movie, or blow money to sit on uncomfortable chairs in a restaurant, or wander around in the woods being scared of cougars wondering how we’ll get home when our car breaks down (I still need to blog about that).

I’m also really excited about sharing the dreaminess of a little place like that and the things I do in it. But not having to share it WHILE I’m there.

I’m grateful to a number of people and strangely-timed messages for helping me decide to seize this opportunity. Two of those people are Heather and Libby, so thanks for the inspirations.