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Tag Archives: time travel

Femdom seduction during the American Revolution!

Eighteenth century ladies have always been icons of erotica to me.

Self-portrait of 18th century artist Marie-Gabrielle Capet

My parents took me to see the blockbuster historical comedy Tom Jones when I was twelve in ’63 or ’64. That might’ve started this fetish for me, I guess! But it’s not a major fetish, I want to emphasize; just pleasant daydreams of decorous ladies or feisty wenches in frilly finery…

I had an adolescent yen for the movie’s “bad girl” Diane Cilento and “nice girl” Susannah York

 

Or maybe when I was eight years old I saw some foxy doxy on an episode of The Swamp Fox, the 1959 Disney tv series starring the pre-comedic Leslie Nielsen as the Revolutionary War Hero Francis Marion. I remember I had a 45 rpm yellow vinyl record of the theme song which is here on YouTube, a ditty which I just heard for the first time in maybe 58 years while writing this post! 😉

Way back before The Naked Gun series, Leslie Nielsen was a standard leading man type

 

Currently I’m in a state of “withdrawal” from a fantastic novel I picked up around Christmas that took three months to read. It was Eagle in the Sky by F. Van Wyck Mason, a story of the last year of the American Revolution from the viewpoint of three young doctors. Reading this skillfully written historical fiction was like taking a trip into 1780-1781. It was 500 pages long of small type, and I read slowly both to savor the story and to study the writer’s techniques and take notes. When I was done the other night, I really felt a pang of withdrawal, like: “You mean, there’s no more?”

The aged dust jacket is a bit tattered, but I kind of liked that…had a certain charm like that of beautiful ruins…

 

Among the many entertaining, informative, and enlightening aspects of the book, besides its depiction of 18th century medical methods, sea and land battles, morals and etiquette, clothing, and living quarters, were the romantic entanglements of its characters. And to my delight, one of the doctors gets entangled with a femme fatale wealthy young widow named Emma who is clearly out to entrance him and nab him for her own:

She totally manipulates Lucius into doing exactly what she wants, against his usual survival instincts which are the result of his  rough, low-born upbringing.

Now, finding femdom images and writing on the Internet or especially Twitter these days is of course commonplace, but finding the same kind of “hypnodomme” concepts in the context of a novel published in 1948 about the War of Independence is especially pleasurable! Did you note in the excerpt above how she entrances him with her eyes? And the vivid description of her hair, lips, and clothing is quite sensual.

Mason is unjustly forgotten today, but he had an amazing life and the three novels of his I’ve read were all exciting combinations of history, romance, and action. His characters tended to be stereotypes in the central casting mold (for example, when I read Eagle in the Sky I imagined young versions of Randolph Scott, Henry Fonda, and Zachary Scott as the three male protagonists) but nonetheless Mason’s people come vividly and intimately to life through their passions and adventures. Here are his two other books I read:

Both were set in the ancient world, and the sexy Tom Dunn covers well portray what’s actually inside the stories

 

When I was reading Eagle in the Sky I kept picturing who might play the female characters in a film of the 1940s. And Linda Darnell, a superb cinema temptress in that era, would have been perfect as Emma. Here she is in the 17th century drama Forever Amber.

One of the greatest femmes fatale of Hollywood’s Golden Age.

In my own writing, I’ve only done a handful of historical stories, one being my ebook The Sins of Dr. Jekyll (available here on Amazon), but it’s something I’d like to do again, so that’s why I read these books carefully to pick up tips from a master about how to evoke bygone eras. And when I read F. Van Wyck Mason I feel like I’m in a different century. He puts you in the scene but doesn’t explain all the historical references about the physical world or the culture–which makes a reader feel either like a contemporary of the characters, one who is assumed to understand all the details of life in those days; or like a time traveler gazing in mute wonder at how things were so different in the past…not necessarily understanding all the references and customs, but happy to observe and go along for the ride.

So do check out F. Van Wyck Mason’s books if you enjoy historical fiction!

I will have to admit my version of Victorian London owes more to Hammer Films than any in-depth historical research! 😉

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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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