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Category Archives: Femmes Fatale

Hail the Great Tower of the Mighty Queen!

A few months ago I entered an online contest at the Westgate Gallery in Los Angeles; the task was to come up with a storyline for a sexploitation film of which there only remained a title and a poster. To my delight, I won, received some store credit, and got to pick any poster I wanted. Not surprisingly for me, given my love for the ancient and the lurid, I selected something from the sword-and-sandal genre: Slave Queen of Babylon, Italian title Io Semiramide (for Semiramis, the legendary queen of the title).

A poster worthy of an epic film! Dig that mighty tower, and her obedient minions in the shadows behind her.

 

I’ve never actually seen this entire movie; it’s posted on YouTube, but only in Italian, so I figured I’d wait until a dubbed or English-subtitled version showed up. Although we can get a lot from the visuals in these movies, I like following the nuances of plot through the usual pithy dialogue in these flicks…

Anyway, although I tweeted about this contest and poster after I won last April, I never got around to blogging about it until now. The poster is very large; from top to bottom, it could take up almost the length of a wall; but I hope sometime to rearrange my apartment and have it framed and displayed, and then invite my friends over to join me in worshiping Semiramis. 😉

Here’s a little quote from an old book telling you about this mighty lady:

That tower in the poster looks a lot more interesting than the ones going up in Manhattan nowadays! Maybe we need a reincarnation of Semiramis to work on the skyline here before it just becomes stuffed with more boring glass phalli.

Be sure to check out the Westgate Gallery. They have a lot of cool stuff!

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I miss my floozies…

I have a friend, George, with whom I’ve sometimes watched films noir. He has an endearing habit of saying, “Here’s the floozy music,” whenever the music on the soundtrack obviously indicates the entrance of a so-called tramp or femme fatale.

Well, I don’t need music to know when I’m in the presence of a floozy. I use the term affectionately, meaning to me “a woman of the demimonde.” Strippers are my chief floozies, although in my time I’ve known some nice hookers too. But with the decline of the adult magazine business in which I worked for more than 40 years, and the greater difficulty of making a buck as a porn writer online, I just don’t have the disposable ca$h to spend time with “floozies” much anymore.

That’s one reason why I enjoy noir films and noir novels…I get to spend time with floozies without going over my budget. 😉 (Can you tell I drank a 24 ounce can of ready-made margaritas before writing this post?)

While I drank the margaritas I watched Joan Bennett in 1948’s Hollow Triumph on TCM’s Noir Alley series, although in this film Joan is not particularly floozy-ish. I love Joan Bennett, her tart affectionate dames are just my cup of tea, and I’ve known a few in my time, especially barmaids at the old Times Square strip clubs like the late lamented Club 44 on Eighth Avenue near 44th Street. I sometimes have a gloomy disposition, after all I am a kind of noir guy myself; and one of the Club 44 barmaids, a older Brazilian lady named Elizabeth, used to try to cheer me up by giving me clippings to read, in a plastic baggie, of humorist and toastmaster Joey Adams’s joke columns from the New York Post.

Anyway, I digress. Here are a couple of recent novels I’ve read that had their happy share of floozies…

This cover scene is actually in the 1952 book, as a streetwalker tries to pick up the detective hero at 51st and 6th Avenue, a location I know quite well. But although a nice interlude, the sequence feels inserted into the story simply to justify the cover; it’s not pertinent to the plot, which is a pretty good one about political corruption in NYC.

 

This is a really tense 1954 novel about two gay drifters who kidnap a narcotics agent as he drives out to Los Angeles after a undercover job on the New Orleans docks. It has two well-drawn floozy portrayals, one of an affectionate stripper involved with the agent in the Big Easy, and the other of a not-too-bright but good-hearted female drifter from Tennessee who gets swept up by one of the male drifters, who is bisexual.

 

When I wolfed down these fun books, I got to enjoy the company of classic-style noir floozies. You can easily meet the two dames in Death Hitches a Ride by checking out the double-novel reprint at Sinister Cinema’s Armchair Fiction line here. It’s a really well-done story, and in fact I read it twice for the way it builds character and tension; the only flaw is that the ending is a bit too abrupt. But the characterizations are terrific. I wonder whatever happened to author Martin L. Weiss—a very talented fictioneer indeed.

 

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January 29, 2018: the 45th anniversary of my moving to New York

I moved to New York City for keeps on January 29, 1973. That was the day I got in a U-Haul with a college girlfriend and drove from the Midwest to the Big Apple, as it was popularly known back then (I don’t hear that moniker used much anymore). We arrived the next day and checked into a residential hotel on the Upper West Side, but I always date my “New York Adventure” as starting on January 29th.

Actually I’d been here the two previous summers, working part-time jobs and living at the YMHA, and with my father’s side of the family in Brooklyn and New Jersey, the area was always part of my life even though I grew up in Chicago.

I came to NYC hoping to get into the film business but when that didn’t work out I shifted to writing. Sold my first porn novel in the fall of 1974 and the rest, as the saying goes, is “history”—the personal history described in many of the earlier posts on this blog.

Of course dotted throughout the city are the landmarks that have a personal meaning to me. For example, on the ever-changing 42nd Street, between Broadway and 6th Avenue, is the Bush Tower, squarely in the shadowy center of this picture…

That was the address from where such legendary “big boob” girlie magazines such as BUF and GEM were published back in the day. Circa 1978 I sent the company an article about collecting movie soundtracks, a “socially redeeming” feature as they used to be called in that era when sex magazines had to run non-erotic items to appease the censors. One day out of the blue the publisher sent me a check for $40 for the article, and I believe that was the only time in my writing career when I sold an unsolicited piece via the “slush pile.” The rest of the time I’ve written either on assignment or expressly for an editor who was favorably inclined to my work.

So every time I walk past Bush Tower I think of that lovely $40 and how nice it was to make that sale!

Nowadays of course. along with writing for porn websites and the occasional sex magazine that is still around, I’ve become a publisher of some of my own stuff, both of my femdom erotica here

 

…and of my full-length novel FATE OF A STRIPPER here. Although to my disappointment it has not sold well, I’m proud of the novel and keep promoting it, hoping it will eventually find an audience for its very New York story of the relationship between an unbalanced lonely stripper and her lonely lovestruck customer, a noir tale flavored with some passionate descriptions of Times Square and its remaining strip joints.

And as ever I continue to enjoy wandering about the city, taking pictures like the ones in this post, inspired by the surprising urban vistas just for their own sake and as possible backdrops for new fiction.

For example, I wonder what kind of an erotic story I can come up with from the picture below…as in, what fictional characters might I imagine living on this street, and how might they satisfy their lusty cravings? 😉

 

 

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Vincent Price and his Laughing Woman…

I am always fascinated to find instances of femdom and femmes fatale in the past…from the obvious examples of stories like those of Jezebel or Judith in the Bible, to the exploits of 19th century Wanda in Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, and onto other lesser known items…

I recently saw the not-very-good 1963 Vincent Price movie Diary of a Madman, based on stories by Guy de Maupassant.  Despite Price giving his usual good performance…

…the film is a kind of graceless affair; but it features lovely Nancy Kovack as the irresistible femme fatale who seduces poor upstanding Vincent (he plays a righteous judge) and I must confess I primarily watched the movie to see her (although I like Price, I’m not a huge fan).

Kovack of course is a fanboy favorite for her role as Medea in Ray Harryhausen’s Jason and the Argonauts. But here she is below in my lovingly snapped screencap from Diary of a Madman (I sit in front of my tv with my cellphone, lol):

Price is also an amateur sculptor in the story, and in one scene, as he models Nancy in clay, he tells her how she reminds him of a piece by the German Romantic poet Heinrich Heine (1797-1856). This of course sent me scurrying to Google. Price remembers the title as “The Laughing Woman” but in the translations I found, the German title is given as “Ein Weib” which is then translated into English either as “A Woman” or, at the site lyricstranslate.com,  “A Broad.”

A Broad

They loved each other with love so deep
She was a tramp and he was a thief
While he was plying his naughty craft
She just lay on the bed and laughed

The days went by in pleasure and joy
At night in the sheets she hugged her boy
When they dragged him off to jail at last
She just stood at the window and laughed

He wrote to her saying: ‘O come to me
I long for you, so badly, you see
I’m weeping: I’m fading fast
She shook her sweet head and laughed

At six in the morning they hung him high
At seven they buried him under the sky
But as eight o’clock went past
She drank red wine and laughed

Heartless, right?

In the original German the rhythm works better at the end, has more of a grim punch, so if you can read Deutsch, go to this page where I found the translation and check it out. Here is also another translation that works well, but likewise the final stanza just doesn’t have the same aural oomph of the German. I’m no expert in German, though I studied it in high school and college, but I do read poetry aloud a lot, and I can tell where a rhythm needs more force.

As it turns out in Diary of a Madman, Price’s laughing woman turns into both his tormentor and victim, the typical trajectory for very naughty ladies in such fictions.

For more of Heine’s femme fatalistic poetry, check out also the translation of “Ich glaub nicht an den Himmel” (“I don’t believe in Heaven”) here. The poem’s narrator believes in nothing but her eyes and…well, read it and see. The translator A.S. Kline also did the one I reproduced above, although he didn’t call it “A Broad.”

Finally, this post is dedicated to Goddess Lycia. A brief discussion I had with her the other day on Twitter about German and French and poetry finally got me off my butt to write and post after thinking about it for several weeks. 😉 Check out her site and journal at LipstickDomme too, as she is a most fascinating femme fatale herself…

 

 


I found the shot of Vincent Price here at the Doc Horror blog.

The photo of Goddess Lycia is from her Twitter and ©Goddess Lycia.

And if you’d like to read the classic novel of femdom translated from German and illustrated by the amazing British artist Sardax, his edition of Venus in Furs is readily available in a Kindle ebook here.

 
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Posted by on December 23, 2017 in Erotica, Femmes Fatale, history of erotica

 

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Christmas Classic For Kinksters!

It’s funny, I was just belly-aching the other night that I hadn’t gotten any comments on my blog lately, when the next day I saw that I had indeed just gotten a new comment, and quite a nice one, on my story DEPARTMENT STORE DOMINA which can be found by clicking above on the link COMPLETE SHORT STORY just under the logo.

“I cannot tolerate sexual harassment of college girls by my department store Santas!”

 

Here’s the comment. Thank you, Gina!

Funny how the Internet can sometimes take us to a place totally different than where we first intended to go. Gina has a point about the candy cane, too; it probably could have been teak instead of rattan, painted the bright holiday colors. Painful either way, though, no doubt, when applied to a miscreant Santa’s buttocks.

Spurred by Gina’s comment, I hunted down the quote she was looking for, too, and I put a link to the answer in my reply to Gina’s comment on the short story page.

It’s a holiday story, yes, subversive in some ways I guess, but melancholy and horny in the manner I often feel around the holidays. Check it out, and if you like it, maybe to go to Amazon here and explore some of my ebooks too. I have a new one out, BLONDE MEETS BOOKWORM (here is a link to a free preview) that has some of the same introspective yet erotic feel, although it takes place in the summer.

And as you can see when you look at this new book as well as my entire “Irv O. Neil Erotic Library” here, I’ve moved on from crudely drawing my own covers in the old school style of sleazy Times Square porn pamphlets to instead purchasing rights to beautiful images from a stock house! You can see the portfolio of talented artist kharlamova, whose image I used for BLONDE MEETS BOOKWORM, here.

It’s not a femdom story, as most of my ebooks are, but it has some kinky elements toward the end, as you’ll see…

 

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Erotic phantoms of NYC’s Eighth Avenue…

One thing that fascinates me is what existed in certain spaces before what is there now. I always remember the previous tenants, especially if they have some erotic or sleazy context… 😉

For example, the northeast stretch of Eighth Avenue between 45th and 46th Streets:

This used to have three notorious porn theaters: the Capri (where the parking lot is now on the left); and the gay-themed Eros and the hetero-themed Venus. I can’t help but see in my mind the facades of those vanished edifices superimposed over the hordes of tourists who now stroll by and patronize the restaurants and bar and open-air market that now inhabit those urban footprints.

A block up to 47th and Eighth, across the street on the northwest side, is a marquee for what is now a sightseeing business:

Previously in the 1980s this space housed the Hollywood Twin Cinemas, but even before that in the 1970s the mezzanine was utilized for part of a massage parlor. Back in the 70s (not now!!) the entrance way on the left (painted red now) led to an elevator that took you up to the mezzanine and the girls who were sitting there. But BEFORE that mezzanine was used, and even before the theater showed porn films, not the mainstream Hollywood fare that came in the 80s, the massage parlor was just a street-level storefront on the left where the glass windows of the Duane Reade drugstore now are in 2017.

The very space where those donuts now lay placidly in their display case was, around 1975, the entrance alcove of the massage parlor, where I met one blonde girl named Lydia with whom I first acted out femdom roleplay fantasies (foot and butt worship) and visited several times; and another blonde named Goldie who, on one particularly cold winter night, gave my lonely bones a friendly hug and rubdown, and warm interesting conversation in which she told me she was a descendant of an early American president! I re-created some of that dialogue in the first porn film I wrote, 1987’s Adultery.

This stretch of street was immortalized in the poster for the 1976 film Taxi Driver. Recognize that marquee?

Finally, across the street, where there now stands a Starbucks, a Staples, a medical clinic, a preschool, and apartments, there used to be low-rise buildings that had a fantastically sleazy porn shop, a used comic book shop, an infamous gay bar called the Haymarket, and perhaps most important for the history of pornography, in the center of the block at 776 Eighth Avenue there were located offices of fetish digest publishers back in the 1950s, which showcased the work of such legendary artists such as Gene Bilbrew. I don’t remember the titles offhand right now, but I remember seeing the address on the copyright pages of some vintage issues. If and when I stumble on them again, I’ll amend this post and add the titles. This is the block now…

Look closely, though, and perhaps you’ll be able to imagine, as I do, infamous 50s femdom fetish models like Tana Louise walking down the street in sexy 50s couture and maybe going up the long-vanished steps to editorial offices at 776 Eighth Avenue!

By the way, Tana Louise (as opposed to the actress Tina Louise, an entirely different performer) was one of the very first fetish models I personally ever saw in a magazine. In today’s over-saturated kink environment, it may seem incredible that she really blew me away with her witchy dominant aura, but back in the early 70s I don’t think I’d ever come across anybody quite like her, and I think I noticed her before I even saw Bettie Page, who never looked quite as ferocious to me in any case. I got this image from the cool site Java’s Bachelor Pad, so go here to see and read more about Mistress Tana too.

 

 

 

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Times Square lipstick and fingernail fetish billboard!

June 2017: Giant stern ladies in Times Square stare down at us mere mortals in all their lipstick fetish and talon-nailed glory! I love it!

Click on the picture for the full effect. This is an ad for a show on TNT.

Now, the only thing better would be something like this on a billboard!!

Goddess Lycia (visit her sites here and here) is one of the most fascinating online dommes and a real favorite of mine. She creates some brilliant and truly addictive audio and video erotica. And yes indeed, the lipstick and fingernail fetishes are two of her prime specialties…among her other virtuoso capabilities to entrance & befuddle the susceptible male mind! 😮

 


Images of Goddess Lycia are used courtesy of Goddess Lycia and are ©Goddess Lycia.

 

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