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SMUT STAND REPORT: August 22, 2015 (Edinburgh, UK)

WHEN: 3 hours (2:45-5:45pm), August 22, 2015. WHERE: In Cowgate, Edinburgh, UK. OUTPUT: four full-length pieces, including some outdoor pussy-eating for a fiery Fringe fling, a rough fuck over the back of a sofa (with a blow-job to clean up the resultant mess), and a proper scary torture session involving knives and a comic-book villain in velvet gloves.

The stand opened up with a bang for this session, I was still setting up the pull-up poster when a friend of mine walked up with her Fringe fling, who I had met a few times already. My friend had been a satisfied smut customer a couple of years ago, and so had told this new lover all about the smut stand and about my work; I get a little nervous about that sort of thing, and indeed about anyone who finds me owing to word of mouth, because oh god, how do I live up to the hype? Somehow I manage, but it is always nerve-wracking. On the plus side, having someone there ready to step in meant that passersby would see me in action right away, with customers. Interviewing people draws nearly as much attention as typing.

None of the people today were “cold” customers, in fact; I had pre-existing connections with all of them. First my friend, and then OH MY GOD, this young woman came up with her mother and exclaimed “You’re here!” Turns out she had gotten a story from me last year. She only comes into town for a day or two every Fringe, and yesterday morning when she arrived, she said, she walked past my spot on Cowgate and said to her mom, “I hope the smut lady is here again!” I didn’t remember her that well, but I remembered last year’s story; it was a role-play rape scene along the specific lines of Little Red Riding Hood. This year’s piece was even more specific: she wanted a story involving the Joker. A rape and torture scene involving the Joker. When she said this, I TOTALLY remembered our encounter from last year. I remember scrutinizing her really hard, then, and realizing that the Little Red Riding Hood thing wasn’t a joke, this was a legitimate turn-on for her. Same thing was true for the Joker request: this was something she clearly fantasized about. So I pulled out all the stops, gave him a menacing switchblade and the line “I’m not sure if I want to fuck you or skin you alive.” She LOVED it, hopping up and down after I read it—VERY QUIETLY—to her, and hugging me with tears in her eyes before she walked away, waving at me.

My last customers of the day were satisfying in a different, but related way. This one woman came up with her boyfriend and another couple in tow. “I told you I’d be back,” she said triumphantly. Apparently she had passed me in that same spot two weeks ago, had spoken with me briefly, and had promised that she would bring her lover around when he came to town. So… here he was! AND one of their friends and his new girlfriend had gotten an earful about me, and here THEY were, each wanting a couples piece. The first couple got a hair-pullingly hardcore scene, but the second couple, oh man, they were the cherry on top. These folks had met on Tindr only a few weeks ago, but they were clearly completely gaga for each other. She was a very petite young woman, with long hair and sultry eyes and some kind of Central European accent; he was a strapping Scottish lad—like, easily 6’4″ and built like a castle wall—and he stuttered a bit.

We had gotten at a few bits of foot fetishism in the interview, as well as some rougher play, so I thought their answers to the last question might be very hardcore indeed. Is there anything recently or vividly that was a pleasant discovery in sex? I asked. She said simply, “I’ve never been with anyone who has a foot fetish before, it’s nice.” And he said, “And I’ve never been with anyone who was okay with it.” And they looked at each other and smiled. The pure joy and acceptance that they clearly shared around this discovery almost made me cry, and the way he stuttered after I read them the finished piece told me that he was pretty stoked now to have a story reflecting his own, very specific reality.

Some days I catch a glimpse of how deep this work can go, and it thrills me to the bottom of my endless pervy heart.

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