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Tad’s Broiled Steaks: NYC Time Travel Portal!

Arghh! Was going to submit this to the Gothamist website (as a friend of mine urged), but I kept procrastinating and fiddling with it, and then yesterday they published someone else’s article on the topic! So I figure, what the heck, even though I already posted something else here today, this steak piece will work just fine on my blog…

TAD’S STEAKS: NYC TIME TRAVEL PORTAL!

About ten days ago I felt the most urgent desire to travel back into the past. The combined stresses of the holidays, freelance life, and the usual financial demands of living in NYC just got to me and I felt an almost visceral wish to leave my apartment on the edge of the Theater District and walk into 1970s Times Square—long-lost land of cheap movies, food, porn, and sex.

Absurd, I know—yet there was one way I could do it. Not by going to one of the few remaining Eighth Avenue porn shops or strip clubs—these are all firmly rooted in the present. The shrink-wrapped magazines in today’s smut shops discourage the pleasurable browsing which made porn emporiums fun in the past, and jiggle joints are just too expensive between their ten dollar beers, twenty dollar lapdances, and obligatory coat-checks to feel very casual to the cash-vigilant visitor.

But the one place I could think of that retains its 70s vibe is Tad’s Broiled Steaks on 50th Street off Seventh Avenue. True, the prices have kept pace with 2015, but the lovely faux elegant red-walled ambiance, the glasses of wine sealed with clear wrap, the constantly broiling steaks near the window, the baked potatoes and slabs of garlic bread slathered with butter, the bowls of salad slapped with the dressing of your choice—all these things felt mercifully the same.

Tads Steaks-50thSt-2015

Even the tall red plastic water glasses harkened to a fabled past recalling nights of triple kung-fu and horror features on the Deuce; cheap drinks at the Club 44 topless joint on Eighth Avenue with its gigantic bar and friendly barmaids and dancers of many nations; and bargain walk-in massage parlors behind impossibly crude yet alluring hand-painted signage.

It took about fifteen minutes of waiting online to get my New York sirloin steak with bread, potato, and salad accompanied by a Bud Lite. The tab came to almost $25, far more than I usually pay for dinner—but definitely worth the wait. It wasn’t a great steak—the one I had the week before at a Christmas/Hanukkah dinner at Gallaghers courtesy of a writer/personal trainer friend, was terrific (I didn’t even want to eat the next day so that I could retain the sense memory of that dinner); but my Tad’s repast was tasty, maybe a “tad” (haha) more well-done than I would have wished, but still good enough.

I sat in the back in the corner, listening not to the details of my fellow diners’ conversations, but simply enjoying the convivial murmur around me as I heartily consumed a decent meal in a place which, with unintentional heroism, preserves the exact glory of its past. There were two chrome-domed middle-aged guys who might’ve been twins, chatting with a lady and her smartphone; a pair of Asian men having a one-way conversation (one guy talked non-stop, the other just listened); and a Hispanic family with fussy grandma, little girl with bright pink Disney purse, calm and collected young mother, and a tall father with a white-and-pink stuffed animal dangling out of his coat pocket as he maneuvered his tray of steaks and clear-wrapped wine over to the table. Above us all in the fairly low-ceiling dining room was a symmetrical forest of Christmas decorations. Usually I like to read when I eat alone, and I did have a book in my pocket (the excellent 1947 novel The Blank Wall which became the terrific 1949 Joan Bennett/James Mason movie The Reckless Moment), but I didn’t open it.

TheBlankWall-NoirNovel

Instead I was, for once, very much into the moment and place in which I found myself, not daydreaming or escaping into someone else’s daydreams via their fiction. I savored my steak, devoured my salad, wolfed down my potato and mopped up with the garlic bread any last lovely residue of butter or Italian dressing. Then I settled in to nurse my Bud Lite as I continued to marinate myself in this little excursion back to the honky-tonk New York of the 70s.

Afterward I was tempted to check out a strip club too, but hitting the street again I felt my own pleasurably “reckless moment” of time-travel urges had been satisfied. And anyway, no modern “gentlemen’s club” (at least in Manhattan that I know of) can bring back the 70s since these current joints all have lap dancing now, which didn’t exist forty years ago and thoroughly changed the feeling of the clubs. So I decided it was time to go home to continue reading The Blank Wall and enjoy the memory of my brief but happy foray into one of the last-standing remnants of Times Square’s lost tawdry sparkle.

As far as I’m concerned, the city should confer landmark status on Tad’s Broiled Steaks!

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Posted by on December 22, 2015 in Erotica, New York City, Times Square

 

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Learn the FATE OF A STRIPPER!

Inside some porn and erotica writers are the restless spirits of scribes who aspire to also prove themselves in the wider arena of words. I’ve written about this on my blog before, that other genres of writing–like literary, suspense, or crime writing–offer different and exciting challenges to my imagination.

And so, with FATE OF A STRIPPER, the new non-porn mainstream novel I’ve just published on Kindle, I’ve met that challenge. It’s a complex story, almost 250 pages long, that’s not simply about a stripper and her customer, but about the difficulty of love and the deceptions of desire. It’s about office politics, and family relationships, and the struggle to survive both financially and emotionally. I guess you might say I packed a lot into it, and it’s available now at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon Germany, Amazon CanadaAmazon France, Amazon Italy, Amazon Spain, Amazon Brazil, Amazon Japan, Amazon Mexico, Amazon India, and Amazon Australia.

 

I look thru thousands of photos until I found this one, which perfectly evokes the stripper of the title.

I looked thru thousands of photos until I found this one, which perfectly evokes the stripper of the title.

FATE OF A STRIPPER tells about a middle-aged New York City guy named Vic Vanner who meets the sweet beauty of his dreams, but Valerie the stripper turns out to have some quirks to her personality, to say the least. Not that Vic isn’t a bit intense himself. Still, they give their all to the relationship–in their own ways–and they even start doing a stage act together in New Burlesque, the popular hip scene made famous by people like Dita Von Teese and which mixes striptease with performance art.

Vic is a romantic and unsure of himself with Valerie, especially since she’s much younger than he is. The situation is not helped by the cynicism of his father, who casts a skeptical eye on almost everything Vic does. Furthermore, Valerie has a thuggish friend named Tino who gives her an outlet for her aggressive tendencies. The way she figures it, if people get in the way of her relationship with Vic, she’ll have Tino take care of them. Tino’s willing to do almost anything for Valerie–as long as he gets to play with her feet…

Yep, FATE OF A STRIPPER is not a porn novel, but ye ole Uncle Irv couldn’t resist making one of the characters a little kinky like the guys in my femdom ebooks. It’s also set in the world of strip clubs and Times Square, two locations of human endeavor that I know a little something about.

Anyway, the situation builds to quite a violent climax, and if the New York Post covered it, the story of Vic and Valerie would be probably be entitled something like THE STRIPPER, THE SUCKER AND THE SLAVE. At one point I even considered using that as the title of the novel; it’s the headline Vic nightmarishly visualizes when he’s wondering what the hell is going to happen to him after Valerie goes over the deep end one dark night in downtown Brooklyn…

I’ve made no secret of my love for film noir and noir paperbacks, and so some of that has rubbed off on this novel as well. I hope you’ll read it, I hope you’ll enjoy it, and please let me know with short reviews on Amazon if you take the plunge and learn the FATE OF A STRIPPER!

You can just click through to the Amazon links above and read the opening two and a half chapters absolutely free!

By the way, months after I wrote the book, I looked through thousands of stock photography images for a cover, and I’m glad I was so thorough–because the image by wisky’ at 123RF.com really captures the way I saw the character of Valerie. Click this link to see his portfolio. I hope you agree!

 

 

 

 

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Porn scribe’s diary, 7/13/12: Angie Dickinson’s expressive face, leggy beauty…

In terms of views for my blog, today was the second best day I’ve had so far. I got a huge number of views from the United Kingdom, the most ever by far from there; followed by the United States, Germany, Italy, Mexico, Switzerland, Austria, Spain, Romania, Canada, Panama, Australia, Poland, New Zealand, France, Japan, Zimbabwe, and Greece. I just love that the blog is looked at all over the planet. I’d love to know your thoughts, so please don’t hesitate to leave a comment, which can be done anonymously if you wish.

As usual, I’ve been writing my weekly assignments for porn websites and newsletters, as well as short stories for magazines and a column for Domme Dose, a site devoted to the financial domination fetish. I was thinking about that stripper I visited last week at a club, too, and hope to see her again soon. She wasn’t working today–I called the clubs where she works to check if she was on the schedule.

Tonight I watched an interesting 1961 Warner Brothers melodrama on Turner Classic Movies called A Fever in the Blood that had Angie Dickinson in a good role. She’s always been one of my faves. Here are a couple of pictures of her I found at a cool site called Dazzling Divas here.

She could give anybody a leg and foot fetish! But what I’ve always loved about her especially is her expressive face, always forthright with emotion whether fierce or compassionate.

The actor Robert Colbert was also excellent in A Fever in the Blood. He had a small but pivotal role as a murderer on the loose who sets the story in motion, and he brought a sad lonely quality to the harsh character that made him really stand out. The set design in the movie, which showed him in his dank little rented room decorated with 1920s style girlie photographs, was also striking. Truly, there are no small parts for actors who know how to make the most of their material, and Colbert was memorable in this film.

Well, I better hit the hay now. Was typing up a piece of erotica tonight to either post here on the blog, or as a new Kindle ebook. It’s been a few months since I posted my last ebook, MOMMY’S LITTLE DUNCE (available here), and I want to get some more of my sexy fiction out there for you to read in handy digital form.

Have a good weekend, and thanks as always for visiting my blog!

 

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Porn scribe’s diary 7/3/12: No mood for strippers…

Sometimes I have the urge to just jot down a few thoughts or observations about my day, without doing an elaborate post with illustrations. So without further ado, and for what it’s worth, here is the new and ongoing PORN SCRIBE’S DIARY, which will pop up every now and then as a post.

7/1/12

After all the years I’ve spent going to strip joints, and I’ve been going to them in one form or other since 1971 (saw my first and only authentic old-time burlesque show that year, during college in the Midwest), am I losing my taste for it? I got dressed the other night to go out and have a little lapdance fun, feeling the need for some female companionship; but by the time I walked down to the street near Times Square where the club is located, I’d lost my desire for it, turned around, and went home. Picked up a fried chicken dinner and went home and watched D.O.A. with Edmund O’Brien on Channel 13, which just happened to be on.

Why didn’t I go to the club? Possible reasons: 1) Didn’t want to spend the money, which I can ill-afford these days, and 2) Kind of dreaded having vacuous conversations with dancers which only facilitate the transfer of my money into their g-strings, and 3) Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood, and I shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. The next time I do go to a club and see a cute dancer I like (especially if she’s Asian), all these downsides will be forgotten.

Still, as it turned out, D.O.A. was well-worth watching for the umpteenth time. One of the great films noir. And bad girl Laurette Luez, menacing O’Brien, was as sexy as any stripper I would have seen on any stage last night. O’Brien is such a great actor that each time I see this movie, I notice new aspects to his performance. One of my fave thespians, hands down.

Well, maybe I will toss in a picture or two when I can for these little diary entries, if finding ’em isn’t too taxing for a mini-post! Just want you to see what I’m talkin’ about close up when it comes to Miss Laurette.

 

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Times Square porn writer enjoys the calm before New Year’s Eve frenzy…

At last 2011 is coming to a close. I’ve definitely had better years as a freelance writer of erotica. Many of the magazines I was writing for in 2010 at this time closed down in early 2011. I lost a tremendous amount of regular income.

Still, I persevered. I figured it out last night from my daily records–I wrote, revised, and polished approximately 362,600 words–or the equivalent of SIX 60,000 word books. Or if you consider a full-length book 80,000 words, I wrote the equivalent of four and a half books. No wonder I feel discombobulated sometimes! That’s a lot of porn under the bridge. And this was an off-year assignment-wise for the reason I just stated above. The year before, when there were more magazines to write for, I wrote somewhere between 750,000 and 1,000,000 words (my records were not as meticulous last year, so I’m not exactly sure–I was too busy cranking out horny stories, girl copy, website prose, research articles and product reviews). That’s the kind of production pulp writers used to achieve back in the 1930s and 1940s…on the low end of the pulp spectrum! I’ve heard of pulp writers who did 3,000,000 words in a year (although unlike myself, they could only do that by mostly not revising or polishing). Anyway, I was a writing demon in 2010; I did as much as I could, maybe because I sensed or feared many magazines wouldn’t last. That kind of work opportunity isn’t available anymore in magazines.

So now 2011, when the sex mag business really took a hit, is coming to a close. And I sense it’s going to end noisily. I live in midtown Manhattan on the edge of Times Square, and the throngs are already blowing their little horns on the streets and whooping it up, and it’s not even 8:00 yet. You have more than four hours left to go, folks!

Yesterday I took a walk through Times Square and on the fringes of the nabe with my camera in hand. It was sunny and not too cold, and I enjoyed mingling in the crowds. When I have something to do, like making pictures, Times Square is interesting. When I’m just walking through the hordes of people, it’s annoying and stressful.

Here are some of the sights I came upon. As you’ll note, I enjoy contrasting tiny people with big billboards:

42nd Street Near 8th Avenue

42nd and Broadway

Around 45th and Broadway

Looking south from 44-45th and Broadway

In 1888, Eugene O'Neil was born on the spot where I took this picture

The ziggurat-like Paramount Building at 44th and 7th Avenue, where Frank Sinatra wowed the bobbysoxers.

Looking east from between 45th and 46th on Broadway

Later, in the evening, I went out to dinner with my camera along, and walking through the area once known as “Hell’s Kitchen” I came upon this striking sign. Two versions:

51st Street between 8th and 9th Avenues

A touch of the old Times Square & Hell's Kitchen, but timeless in its blunt force

I can’t decide what I want to do tonight. I made no plans, and money is tight, but perhaps on New Year’s Eve I could allow myself the pleasure of a lapdance or two. I have coupons to get into the strip clubs for no admission (that little ole clever carnal consumer, me). But do I want to fight my way through the crowds? I was also tempted to call friends, but I felt like being alone and maybe watching a movie and having a beer in pleasant solitude, despite the racket of the New Year’s crowds on the street. And then maybe, an hour or two before midnight, trying to work my way over to a tittie bar.

I’ve been very frugal this year, and sometimes I think I take it too far. Maybe it’s not good for a pornographer’s mental health NOT to check in with the floozies at least once a month…

Well, whether I go out or not, at least I can travel to sleazy destinations in my memory, stuffed full of the sensations of lapdances, strippers, hookers, dominatrixes, and peep show girls from my past…or through a screen capture like this one of Broadway and 52nd Street almost forty-six years ago, courtesy of the 1966 James Garner movie Mister Buddwing, a suspense thriller about an amnesia victim wandering through the raunchy old New York so many of us miss.

52nd and Broadway on the edge of Times Square, 1966

But you know something? If I walk around on the streets, I can find the film-noirish visual energy still in Hell’s Kitchen without time-traveling through memory or movies…

Click on the pic to enjoy its full intensity! This is 52nd Street and 9th Avenue, looking east toward Worldwide Plaza.

Let’s hope for a better year in 2012 for all of us who need it and want it! And thank you all for reading my blog and checking out my bizarre ebooks.

 
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Posted by on December 31, 2011 in Erotica

 

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Teases and temptations of the Twitterdommes…

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve started using Twitter as a means of promoting both my erotica ebooks and my blog, and it is really fascinating and more than a little addictive. I am a longtime “browser” of books and libraries and the Internet, so of course Twitter with its mix of links is catnip to me.

I “follow” a mix of people on Twitter in my usual eclectic fashion that reflects my interests in erotica, literature, entertainment, and current events. I’ve particularly been commenting on the tweets of like-minded purveyors of femdom erotic fantasy, all of whom are women who run websites and video “clip stores” that convey their brands of domination over submissive males. Some of these women call their slaves “losers” and many of their slaves like that. They tease them for having “small dicks” and threaten them with the horror and pleasure of humiliating cuckoldry. These women call themselves goddesses and princesses and humiliatrixes, among their various self-bestowed appellations, and many photos and videos show them vivaciously and with gleeful cruelty giving the finger to their horny acolytes. Or making the “loser” sign by forming an “L” with their thumb and forefinger. Many of these Twitterdommes also urge or command their admirers to buy them gifts in a practice known as “financial domination” which is shortened to “findom.”

"I'll drain that little dick wimp dry and it'll make my pussy wet!"

Now, I have my own fetishes, like preferences for an attractive face and good legs and round butts and pretty feet; and I like all sorts of femdom roleplaying, where the woman is the temporary master of the man. Be my stern mistress, or my corrective governess, or my seductive college student, or my teasingly trampy neighbor, or my evil spanking landlady–I love it, in fantasy play that doesn’t put me into hock.

"Worship me. Recite little poems about how you will serve!"

But one fetish I have never had–or perhaps it can better be described as a compulsion–is to give women money. I get no special thrill out of that. I don’t like to be drained of my dough and be made to feel like a fool…or a loser. For example, I have always disliked and distrusted arrogant strippers whose attitude clearly is, “What is MY money doing in YOUR wallet?”

In strip clubs and whorehouses, money was only a means to enable me to have some time with the lady. It wasn’t used to show the girl that I was a sucker and that she should laugh at me for wanting her, or that the idea that I would want her was so ridiculous that she should “punish” me for it. I was never a wild spender. I wasn’t ungenerous, just cautious given my always comparatively limited means. In titty bars, I have never been to the champagne room, if you know what I mean. Having a drink and lapdance with a girl out in the main area of the club was always enough for me.

But if I was friendly with a peeler, I would always tip her well and, for example, get her a small Christmas gift just to show my appreciation. Or buy her a book I thought she might enjoy. I used to run out and pick up cigarettes or sodas for fantasy booth girls of whom I was a regular customer. One time I cemented a friendship with a dancer–within the strip club, that is–by running out and buying her the first order of sushi–California rolls–that she ever had.

However, if guys get off giving their money to the financial dommes, that’s their business. And I have to admit the creative bitchiness of some of these dommes, demanding to be “spoiled” and treated like royalty, is entertaining and sometimes arousing. As is clear in my own erotica like Learning to Be Cruel, Spell of Dominance, and Toes Are For Sucking, I am turned on by bitchy women, but for me it is a fine line that these “findommes” tread between being stimulating and disturbing. No doubt about it, though, some of them are most temptingly attractive…and out of their lips, sometimes even the word “loser” sounds as endearing as any sweet nothing…and they get my little willie winking, God help me!!!

The greatness of man is that he can go "arf-arf" for a woman yet still create civilizations. 😉

 
4 Comments

Posted by on October 17, 2011 in Erotica

 

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Five dominatrixes want to get their hands on you!

As promised yesterday, it’s here…nothing can stop it…it’s available in the Kindle stores at Amazon U.S., UK, and Germany…my new ebook containing five stories featuring five females who happily toy with their male slaves as they practice the delectable power of their SPELL OF DOMINANCE!

"Order this book with one hand...and satisfy your urges with the other!"

This is a good introduction to the universe of my erotic fiction…wait until you encounter Verna, Mila, Dolores, Sondra, and Jennifer…they’re waiting for you in 10,000 words (or almost forty pages) of arousing female domination fiction!

Only $3.99 for an ebook you will read and re-read…that’s less than the price of a beer in most strip clubs (believe me, I know)!

Gentlemen–experience in richly described fantasies the pleasures of surrender to dominant women!

Ladies–identify with these mistresses and get new ideas about how to dominate your slaves! Or imagine yourselves under the feet of these stern but understanding goddesses…

Don’t delay…surrender to the SPELL OF DOMINANCE today!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005JFV0OG

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005JFV0OG

http://www.amazon.de/dp/B005JFV0OG

Enjoy!

 
2 Comments

Posted by on August 27, 2011 in Erotica

 

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