By D. Scot Miller
A note from D., our new SEX SF contributor: “This is my first installment on the SFBG’s Sex SF blog. I’m pretty sure that anyone who knows me half-suspected that I was a freak. Ease your suspicions friends, I am.”
I just finished reading Hos, Hookers, Call Girls, and Rent Boys: Professionals Writing on Life, Love, Money, and Sex. by David Henry Sterry and R.J. Martin, Jr. (Soft Skull Press), a servicable account of sex-work and sex-play from professional providers of all genders, classes and orientations.
There are many standout pieces, Carol Queen’s “Blowjob City,” a poem by Anonymous called “Hermaphrodite,” and my dear friend Sadie Lune’s piece “Envelopes” come to the forefront for me. Installments by stalwart symbols like Nina Hartley, Xaviera Hollander and Georgina Spelvin give a comforting credibility to the collection. Sterry, no stranger to sex writing himself — his first book “Chicken” lived on the NYT bestsellers list — proves to be a more than competent editor and curator and for those who want to know what it’s like in “The Life,” this anthology is a good place to start.
With that said, the last thing you want in your sex, and I believe that I’m speaking for just about everyone, is dryness. Sex is wet, slippery, and messy, at least the sex I like, and sometimes trying to explain our sexual selves can be an arid and depressing affair. Many of the entries in this anthology, unfortunatley, fall into that category. There’s just too much “blow-by-blow” and not enough “blow”. Many of the entries are simply not sexy when it is clear that they are trying to be. And with all the talk of “sex-positive empowerment”, its Mochalove out of Oakland, saying, “The next time I hear some rich white bitch tell me how great being a ho is, I’m gonna smack ’em upside they righteous head,” that I most connected with and whose story I most wanted to hear.