The Naked Apple

Repoting from the modern middle class

Archive for the ‘Sex’ Category

A New Treatize on Porn

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I do not understand pornography nor my relationship to it. It’s an invisible billion dollar empire that touches every empty American male hand.

I purchased my first spank mag at the age of 14 or 15 from an Asian newsagents in the UK and actually ran home with the cellophane wrapped wonder package. This sense of forbidden fruit to a school boy is something that has stayed with my carnal tastes and would likely be of great interest to Mr. Freud . With the advent of a 56k modem connection for my father’s PC, I migrated to surfing for pictoral titillation ( – I personally contributed 50,000 of your unique hits between 1997 and 1998, any success you achieved in becoming one of the world’s biggest distributors of free skin clips I feel is in no small part due to my teenage lusting). With an anthropologist’s objectivity, it’s possible to track the evolution of my tastes by analysing 140,000 Google searches (I’m estimating a median of 20 a week for 14 years allowing for vacations, periods without Internet access and self imposed on-line celibacy).

Predictably the search terms have evolved from women a 15 year old school boy would feel comfortable with to generally accepted American standards of erotica with a few brief escapades into the more creative aspects of the human arousal.

Still, I find on-line porn disappointing. Magazines have a nostalgic hold on my libido and probably represented a high point in the evolution of solo sexuality in terms of ease of access. The Internet’s anytime, anyplace (within the commonly accepted standards of social decency) is just too much. On-line arousal is ultimately an empty experience and I disagree with any psychologist who writes otherwise. The Big Mac of the the spank wank, the fast food fix for your sexual appetite. Sometimes minutes, sometimes hours drift by until the happy ending trance is broken with “how did I end up sat in front of a PC – used by my wife just hours ago to write her resume – with my pants around my ankles observing a middle class couple somewhere in the US copulate on the kitchen table (complete with checked table cloth)”. It is this “what the fuck factor” that reminds me most of “why did I just eat that”.
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Written by The Naked Apple

February 24, 2009 at 8:38 am

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Lap Dancing – A Client’s Perspective

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I was first inaugurated into Flashdancers, a strip club in Midtown Manhattan by a banker from Citi and my boss , a Texan whose life would have lacked meaning except for his singular ability to sell things he didn’t understand to people he didn’t care about.

Flashdancers recently caused a small media scandal after they plastered what seemed like, every New York taxi cab with their advertisement.  It featured a woman with a bad perm, excessive lipstick, the club’s name, address and nothing more.  For a period I was convinced I was going mad seeing their ad everywhere (just like a new mother sees adverts for Pampers on every street corner).  To resolve the matter, I conducted a short impromptu survey of 100 or so taxi cabs driving past a cafe in Tribeca on a Sunday afternoon.  I recorded three Flash Dancers taxi advertisement for every mobile billboard advising me to go see the Lion King on Broadway; my sanity was still in check.

Unlike most clubs that stack their clients over a series of ascending floors (Centerfolds in Boston is a prime example of this) Flashdancers is a sprawling open-plan palace of decadence.  Walking in off the street, slightly inebriated by a flight of Tom Collins, the experience can be a little disorientating and akin to stumbling on a Russian harem a few blocks north of the Disney World, wonderland that is Times Square today.

A certain Flashdancers employee named Diana, is an important but minor character in my life.  Her part is limited to a a few spoken lines onscreen and a mention in the closing films credits of life.  Our paths have crossed a few times now and she holds the honor of being the only stripper who has sent me home with an unspent $100 in my wallet, a feat that even she is amazed by.  Born in Czechoslovakia twenty three years ago, her life seems to consist of bouncing between working in Manhattan and flopping around on the beach in Miami.  Neither of which I believe fulfills her very much.
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Written by The Naked Apple

February 23, 2009 at 3:00 pm

Hermes and The Hooker

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Getting an STD test after sleeping with a prostitute in the UK was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.  I had gone out for a quick drink to “unwind” during a 3-day business trip to London.  A couple of pints and a beef sandwich, led to a cockney pub complete with Eastern European girls stripping on an astro-turf stage for pound coins in a beer glass.  From there, bar hopping around So-Ho and finally slipping into China White, a respectable night club by any standard on the ruse that I was meeting some friends inside.

I hit the bar and the euphoria of 6 hours of alcohol laced with a pack of Marlborough Lights shook my brain.  I bought drinks at the crushed zinc top hugging an unnamed young Arab who had neither the need nor the desire to work due to his father’s wealth.  At the time I felt on top of the world; in reality I was merely six JD and cokes away from solitude.

And then I got talking with a girl at the bar, normal stuff – like any conversation drowned out by the anthems of dance.  Regressing back to a 17 year old out on the pull, I confidently told her we should go back to “my place”.  It was only in the taxi that I realized this all was not quite right.

“You need to pay me two hundred pound.”

“You didn’t tell me this in the club?”

“No, no, no.  I tell you.  You say ok.”  The bubble was popped in full view of the cabbie who played the role of spectator to this public humiliation.  I weighed up the situation, I was very drunk and in a cab heading back to a 3 star hotel with a Thai hooker.  It all seemed kind of predictable, as if the night had edged towards this inevitable conclusion from the first pint.
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Written by The Naked Apple

February 20, 2009 at 2:36 pm

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