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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  ...


Archive for September, 2007

God Bless Pedro Zapeta

Saturday, September 29th, 2007

DISCLAIMER: I’m a bleeding-heart liberal, and today I am on my soap box, so Don’t Give Me Shit on This. It’s my blog and my heart.

…and Pedro Zapeta’s heart.

I don’t have a problem with immigrants, even “illegal” ones. The American Dream was borne of immigrants. We’re all Heinz 57 mutts, when you get right down to it.

And you can bet your sweet ass that if we lived today under the fist of a cruel dictatorship or in the midst of poverty, each and every one of us would be hightailing it to “The Land of Opportunity.”   We’re the light of the world, for Chrizts sake! Who wouldn’t rather be here?

Guatemalan Pedro Zapeta had his own American Dream: To come to America where he would get paid what was–for him–a decent wage for his hard work. He didn’t even want to stay forever…just long enough to save up some money. And so he somehow made it to Florida, where he landed what must have seemed a dream job as a dishwasher, making $5.50 an hour. For the next eleven years, keeping his belt tight, he skimped and saved…and worked and worked and worked.

He must have thought he hit a gold mine when he eventually got a 25 cent raise. Which was for good job performance, by the way. Wish I could meet some “American born” service workers who actually cared about their job performance. Being good at what you do seems to have gone out of style with the true blues.

Two years ago, Mr. Zapeta decided it was time to return home. With his entire life savings — $59,000 — in a duffel bag, he was going through customs at the Fort Lauderdale Hollywood International Airport, when a security officer called U. S Customs, who were quick to confiscate the money.

Although Customs Officials dropped original allegations that Mr. Zapeta was a drug currier, they were still All American enough to keep his money, because, after all, this non-English speaking illegal alien did break THE LAW when he attempted to leave the country with more than 10K and not declaring it. Duh! He sure wasn’t hiding it. It was in his duffel bag. That’s pretty much is the same as making a declaration–when you don’t speak a lick of English and haven’t a clue about THE LAW.

Then again, a home-grown USA boy –someone like Ken Lay or Joe Nacchio— would have used his good old American know-how to send that money electronically so that nobody would be the wiser. Come to think of it, maybe Mr. Zapeta’s only mistake is not understanding the NEW American Dream: Get the money and run, fucking over everybody and anybody while you’re at it.

Still holding on to his (very) hard earned cash, our Men on White Horses turned Mr. Zapeta over to the INS, who began deportation proceedings. But two lawyers with hearts (they do exist: I know quite a few from the kink-O-phone), working pro bono, took up his cause, fighting the deportation and trying to get his money back. And when the story made the news, donations came pouring in. Now 10K sits in a trust, which apparently Mr. Zapeta is also not permitted to have. But it seems that after two long years, officials are willing hammer out a (somewhat lacking) negotiation:

Robert Gershman, one of Zapeta’s attorneys, said federal prosecutors later offered his client a deal: He could take $10,000 of the original cash seized, plus $9,000 in donations as long as he didn’t talk publicly and left the country immediately.

But Pedro Zapeta is having none of it. He says, ” They are treating me like a criminal when all I am is a working man.” I agree with him, am rooting for him, am praying for him and champion him.

So it’s been two years since Customs officials took their stand at the OK Corral and saved the good people of the wild, wild west from the likes of Pedro Zapeta.

But somehow I just don’t feel any safer.

Do you?

xo, Angela


Phenomenal Woman

Thursday, September 27th, 2007

Phenomenal Woman ~Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I’m not cute or built to suit a model’s fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I’m telling lies.
I say
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It’s the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say
It’s in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It’s in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.


Dedicated to my girl buddies here on the web. Keep on rocking in the free world.

xo, Angela

Muse-Fucking, Sugasm and Savants

Wednesday, September 26th, 2007

Readers should know by now that I have a column at Sex Kitten. A great gang of girls are the center of attention over there, with the occasional male showing up for support and/or commentary and/or their own articles.

Although I’ll never measure up to Dorothy Parker or break bread with the likes of Alice Walker, I do like to write and Gracie is either kind enough or crazy enough–probably a little of both–to let do my thing, with very little intervention on her part…thank goodness. Structure, for me is a motherfucker, I don’t even usually make appointments for my nails or hair. I just drop in and expect them to work their magic. My saving grace, the reason they put up with my silliness, is my charming personality. And it might have something to do with the fact that I am an above average tipper. Just maybe.

Anyway, I wrote this piece, “When the Muse Wants to Fuck,” which had been very well received over at the Cat House. And I thought that was the end of it. But Kitten belongs to this blog club or something–I’ve never quite figured out how it works–called Sugasm. Seems that every week voters pick the best blog entries of the week. And my Muse piece was in the top three of issue 98! WOW! I wonder if I’ll get a cash prize. Or maybe a tiara and new car? Just kidding.

Actually, I’m stoked and I hope you take time to read it. It is one of my own personal favorites.


He’s baaaack! Pervert Savant, bless his pea-pickin’ heart, just sent me Chapter IV of Lingerie on the Razorwire, and it is unbelievably funny and downright brilliant. Why this guy isn’t writing for a living is beyond me. I also talked with PS today and he was his jolly and articulate self. I could listen to him for hours. He says he’ll be back soon. He is still having PC issues, but expects to have them corrected in the near future. He actually typed this chapter on his office PC. He charges by the hour. Wonder who he billed for that? Anyway, I’ll be publishing it in the next few days, so stay tuned.


A few questions (click the linkage if your answer is YES).

  1. Do you absolutely fucking adore a woman who digs lingerie?
  2. Does it take a smart woman to be a truly good Dominatrix?
  3. Is cuckolding catching on as an acceptable kink?
  4. Can good guys ever really finish first?
  5. Did you know Shakespeare is still alive and slinging porn?
  6. Can the human spirit thrive in prison?
  7. Is it possible to be a good boy and one kinky motherfucker?
  8. Does a girl who can talk sports turn you on?


Also, I am going to be featuring another story by Porno Person soon. He writes the dirtiest erotica, while I tend to save most of seriously nasty stuff for the kink-O-phone. So I like to put some of his beautifully filthy and seriously kinky fantasies here once in a while. It’s good to give this blog a good shaking up now and again. Dontcha think?


And to answer a question I get all the time: Yes, I know I link to people who don’t link to me. I don’t link for popularity or creating a “Google” presence; the linkage you find to the right of this blog is hand-picked by me for my readers. It is to benefit them, not me. People find me easily enough without me sacrificing my personal and professional integrity. So why screw with a good thing? Huh?

Okay, baby…I am history.

Until the next time.

xo, Angela

Put Those Tits to Work

Thursday, September 20th, 2007


The Dirty Truth

Sunday, September 16th, 2007

The Dirty Truth About Three Dirty Girls

Isn’t it great seeing great women do great things? ~Oprah Winfrey

Being female is a most awesome thing. There are bubble baths and lipstick and perfect hair and thumb rings and corsets and tankinis and skin lotions and stilettos and perfume and day spas and face scrubs and lace panties and purses and candles and mascara and baby doll pajamas and silk stockings and cut-off jeans and shoes, shoes and more shoes. We gleefully indulge ourselves, and a smart man is glad we do.

And then there are girlfriends. There is nothing better than being a female and having a girlfriend. (Come to think of it, there’s probably nothing better than being a male and having a girlfriend, but that’s for another day.)

Girlfriends come in all shapes and sizes. I occasionally share stories with you about two of my everyday girlfriends, Jenna and Nannette. There’s also Laurie, Kandy, Krista, Elizabeth and a few more. Someday I will give you the skinny about a few of their sometimes licentious, sometimes capricious, and sometimes inordinate adventures. We have plenty of time.

And then there are my ON LINE Girlfriends, among them, the three ladies I’m talking about today. ON LINE meaning they are accessible to you via there websites, blogs, and printed media which you SHOULD purchase. Why? Because all three of these girls, like my real life friends, are pretty fucking smart (I don’t do stupid; you should know that by now.) And also like my real life friends, they are beguilingly sexy.

Because the Dirty Truth is: SMART IS SEXY. But I’m sure you knew that already, didn’t you?

So why don’t we start with Chelsea, who–while not an official girlfriend of mine (I’m kinda Midge to her Barbie)–is certainly someone I admire and even–I admit it–envy. Not in the Green Monster kinda way, but in the Oh My Goddess of Ink, Quill and Parchment kinda way. Because this Brilliant Babe has been blessed by the Keyboard Gods with Kinky Fingers and writes so exquisitely about naughty things, I once said this about that: She dresses it down as everyday prose, but don’t let her fool you…her words are pure poetry.

Chelsea’s blog, is a finger licking feast of flawless writing. And while there is plenty of right-on righteous sex, why is it (this is what I ask myself) that even when she writes about absolutely anything from snot to love to pop culture every single word–hell, even the punctuation–sizzles?

This girl is rocking it, and apparently Penthouse agrees with the rest of us. Chelsea has an article, “Tough Love,” (about bedroom BDSM games) in this month’s Penthouse. Did I say I envy her? I adore her. Maybe someday she’ll let me hang out with her and Ken.

Then we have Isabel Blyss who is kicking up dirt in the Phone Sex arena (and that’s a lot of dirt) with her articulately honed belles-lettres. A writer and poetess, Isabel has a lot of things to say, whether she’s whispering dirty no-nos in your ear, expressing her erogenous vision with provocative “Mini Erotica,” or seducing us with an impassioned rhyme.

While she doesn’t brag about it, I happen to know that Isabel is an accomplished poet in her everyday life. A girl who loves words? And does Phone Sex? If I were a guy wanting my fantasy done well, I sure know who I”d be calling. And check out what her callers are saying:

  • …call her if you are looking to worship, to serve and to surrender your power to an articulate woman who will turn you into her pet and toy! Thank you, Mistress Isabel for a wonderful experience!
  • She has a high perceptiveness, intelligence, attention to detail, and a deep knowledge of the subtleties that can make or break a role play session. Simply fantastic.
  • She is smoldering hot, oozing a sexual confidence that is incredibly mesmerizing. I was caught in her web and am still shaking. Bewitching Isabel: I will be back!

What was that? You want her number? 1-800-863-5478 ext. 01939543

Which brings us to Secondhand Rose, a fairly new Phone Sex Gal who is regularly driving the kink-O-meter into the red zone with her finely-tuned tales of sensual debauchery. Rose is a seasoned author, publishing regularly in both mainstream and erotic venues. But she is keeping plenty of “good stuff” for her blog. Which makes all of us very lucky, indeed!

What I really like about Rose is her unapologetic celebration of All Things Girly; in this I find her a kindred soul. And her erotic fiction reflects this sensibility, deliciously indulging in everything from silk stockings to come-hither seduction.

There’s an easy enthusiasm in everything Rose writes, even her nonfiction, which makes visiting her blog a fun adventure, no matter what she’s up to. You might get to enjoy some smart and sassy writing or you might get to get off. What a deal! And even though she’s the new girl on the block, the boys are still talking:

  • Rose is truly gifted and hits the nail on the head every time.
  • Like the song, Rose “had me from ‘hello.'” She is a fresh breath of kinky sweetness and a real baby doll. She is seductive, flirtatious, sassy, smart and playful. And so much more. Simply incredible.
  • Great, super sexy voice, and very hot, erotic imagination!

What? You want her number, too? Geeze! 1-800-863-5478 ext. 02078203

Go ahead, you scoundrel. Go ahead and buy Penthouse and salivate over Chelsea. Then call Isabel and Rose. Just leave me sitting here. See if I care.

xo, Angela