it’s the bitch in her ~by Angela

it’s the bitch in her
that keeps you on her dotted line
signed, sealed, delivered
your signature, her hand
done deal

used up and faded blue
the new you
(after all)

after all:
buckled down and tied up
your twisted tongue and caught breath
searching for sonnets

searching for sonnets
on hobbled limbs
and always bended knee
to sing, to plead, to offer alms
to your silent siren
who never listens, never speaks
who only hears her own measure

it’s the bitch in her
that keeps you here and keeps you hers:
her cheap fetish
her pygmy romeo
her corrupt fuck

it’s the bitch in her
that’s taken you down
rubbed you raw
cut you clean
wiped you out
bled you, bled you, bled you

it’s the bitch in her
that fucks with you
fucks you up
fucks you over
and doesn’t give
a flying fuck about any of it

it’s the bitch in her
that has your attention
your cock, your devotion, your heart

it’s the bitch in her
that makes you her bitch

***

What I’m trying to say is that I finally finished moving my FREE erotica blog, Blistered Lips to it’s own Web address and hope you visit often.

The above poem is one of my newest entries and has proven quite popular so far..

***

And…thanks to Mistress V for being the original hostess of Blistered Lips and for being a very good friend.  If you’re a blogging neonate, eager to get your “blogging feet” wet, check out Mistress V’s Vixen Blogs, where you can blog away to your heart’s content at absolutely no cost.  Mistress V even has low-cost hosting plans and will help you transfer to your own domain when you’re ready to upgrade and strike out on your own.  It’s where I got started and look at me now? (No groans from the Peanut Gallery, thank you very much.)

And while you over there, you can still find me–glad to still be hanging out with Mistress V–plugging away at Pardon My French, my collection of sexy quotes.

xo, Angela

Yesterday for me was what one might call “brittle.” Blame it on the weather (more snow…believe it or not), the temperature (one degree Fahrenheit…I kid you not) and a bit of a spat with a friend (which we will not discuss). My intent was to work up a storm, whispering filthy, dirty things into the ears of good boys trying desperately to be bad. To do it over and over and over again.

Alas, my self-indulgent mood-spasm got in the way and I did no such thing. Instead –which isn’t such a bad thing for me and my “bigger life picture”– I attended to a lot of fringe personal and fringe professional stuff that had been floating around, yet weighting me down.

A few items of good news, so let me catch you up, okay?

First: SuperVert, who is an official Zen Savant (Deviant Savant) and very good friend, did a New Year’s eve blog entry for the loners out there (of which I was one) and mentioned the gauntlet I threw down during the holidays. Did you know that I am the first and only “official” Phone Sex Operator his site PervScan has ever had? Do you know how special that makes me feel? How grateful? How lucky? How blessed? Because Mr. Vert is simply divine in every way, dontcha know?

Then: Coming soon to an Amazon.com near you: A poem (I Love You With All of my Hard-On), a short story (Mary’s Queer) and two of my essays (Do I Need a New Job or What? and Please Pass the Egg Nog: Pornography or Porn-not-graphy?) are going to be featured in a new Sex Kitten book, to be published this spring, Riding the Knot in Our Collective Shorts: A collection of rants and erotica. So a lady can get pissed and then have masturbatory make-up sex. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? I can’t wait to read it myself!

And: Thanks to a loyal reader/caller who kindly pointed me in the proper direction, else I might have missed this one. The edgy, progressive and hip sex-zine, Fleshbot actually blogged my blog in one of their ultra-cool Sex Blog Roundups! This particular Roundup, subtitled Pornified Edition (proving I am not the only one to make up words to fit my mood, need, or intent), was courtesy of Chelsea Girl who happens to be a mighty fine writer with a blog of her own, pretty dumb things. I’ve added her to my links under Hot Blogs, because she is a phenomenal writer. She dresses it down as every day prose, but don’t let her fool you…her words are pure poetry. Check her out, because there just might be a test. And with that test there just might be a surprise.

So there you have it: While a bit of personal and professional detritus has been taken care of and life is a bit lighter now, I’m still basically snowed in. Since it’s cold enough to freeze your coochie off, I’m burning logs in my fireplace. Deviant Savant is wonderful as always. I’m about to be published in a real book for a second time. And I’ve been officially “pornified” by FleshBot.

One more thing: I found the coolest Erica Jong quote which I’ve added to Zen Wisdom…

xo, Angela

Pervert Savant sends the following email.

Subject: Pulp Fiction for the Jaded

Dearest Angela:

I’ve been thinking.

My contribution to “Pulp Porn” would be an elaboration on a new idea that has been percolating in my fevered brain. “Phone Sex Pimp Daddy” — a bare-knuckled tell-all expose about a middle-aged white office worker who, one day, decides to become a PPP (”Phone Sex Pimp).

Follow him as he gathers his stable of phone sex whores — preying on innocent intellectual women, corrupting them, buying their bifocals, encouraging them to read books, forcing them to speak in grammatical sentences and then, when they have nothing left, requiring them to slave away at phone banks in dingy offices, dingier apartments, and still dingier trailer parks, plying their trade until they’re used up and hoarse — enslaved and willing to give all their hard earned profits to their pimp, (a man who is known on the avenue as “NiteFlirt”).

He’s their “Phone Sex Daddy!” You can do the screenplay. I’d want a percentage of the take from the movie, of course.

Sincerely,

Pervert Q. Savant

What do you think? Should I go for it? Write that screenplay and share the wealth with this rascal of a guy? I think he has the talent. Certainly the gumption. Or maybe I should write the book and the screenplay. Reap the bounty myself?

Or maybe I’ll just ignore this silliness and buy a membership to Tit-Elation.

Which reminds me: One of my stories, Tying up Amy was featured via Tit-Elation at Samarel Erotic Art.

And for those who emailed and/or commented on yesterday’s entry, I am fine. I really am. Just rolling with the punches. Thanks so much.

xo, Angela

The title of this entry was suggested as an alternate title for a poem I recently wrote, I Love You With All of my Hard-On. Yeah, I wish I would have thought of it first. But I didn’t.

So who says I can’t use it anyway? For example as a title to a blog entry? Huh?

You may have noticed that I was MIA yesterday. And callers will have noticed I’ve been MIA quite a bit as of late. Hey, it happens. Life has thrown me a lot of curves this past year–some of with which many of you are familiar. And then there’s the stuff I just keep to myself. Regardless, sometimes I just reach burn-out stage and/or am coping with some life trauma. Then I have to step back from the phones, and, even sometimes, this blog.

Some news:

I’ve been bombarded with poetry in re. to my new category, PSOetry. Poetry of all kinds and by so many different poets. I do believe I’m learning more than I ever learned in my college poetry courses. At least it’s a much fuller experience.

I will be judging a writing competition for Tit-Elation in the very near future. We are working out the details, so stay tuned for more on that soon.

I am finally working on Literate Smut’s updates and changes and we should actually see that all in place by the end of next week if not sooner.

And last –but certainly not ever, ever least– my most awesome Deviant Savant, Supervert, has made me the official Phone Sex Operator of his most wonderful site, PervScan.

And now if you will excuse me, I’m off to other endeavors for this evening.

My beloved Pervert Savant sends the following poem, “with apologies to Betty Krainis, whose poem “Keep it Low“, I blatantly plagiarized from.” (But, hey, he’s at least trying, so give the little deviate a break…why don’t ya?):

Angie St. Lawrence is her name
And oral fantasy is her game

If your sex life’s a bleak November
She’s human Viagra for your member

Like to dress in women’s clothes?
Be abused? Suck a nose?

Mince about? Like a sissy?
Better call this sexy Missy!

Is your pleasure cunnilingus?
Or a dildo in your dingus?

Care to suck a zoo gorilla?
Or just do it straight vanilla?

Ever try it hot and dental?
Angie’ll do you; she’s non-judgmental

Got a thing for women’s toes?
Whips and chains? Or pantyhose?

It doesn’t matter. What’s your pleasure?
Just call Angie at your leisure

Some PSOs aren’t real smart
They’ll take your money, then depart

Angie’s different. She’s a honey
You’ll get a GOOD ride for your money!

So don’t just sit there in your panties
Dial up Angie. She’ll wear scanties!

(And Mr. PQS: You really didn’t do much plagiarizing. You just did what most poets do all the time. Which was to admire a rhyme or conceit or metric or pattern or whatever…and run with it. That is how it all gets written, don’t you know?)

And for something completely different, check out my first-ever erotic/dirty sonnet, I Love You with all of my Hard-On, published at Sex Kitten recently.

And did you notice, there is no title for Pervert Savant’s poem? Any ideas out there?

xo, Angela

Not really.

Well, okay, some people seem to think so. Now and then at least.

But enough about me. Let’s talk about me.

Back at the beginning of summer (July 7 and July 8 to be exact.) I said, more or less:

“A few years back my flagship website, Literate Smut, was a finalist for Erotic Website of the Year. I never did know who nominated me, but a few very nice gents wrote some nice ‘letters of recommendation’ after the fact.” And then I shared a few of those letters. Well, I just ran across the file again and thought I share yet another:

Angela: The Lady of Literate Smut

There are so many ways — all of them good — to describe Angela that I’m not sure where to begin. I could say that she is an intelligent woman, and a funny woman, and a mischievous woman, and an elegant woman, and all of this would be true. But what she is, first and foremost, is a real woman. I fully expected to meet a lot of heavy-breathing actresses when I first tried phone sex, and indeed I did. But at forty ears of age and having lived and worked all over the world, I am too old to play games.

The reason I call Angela, and no one else, is that sincerity is the sexiest quality of all. More importantly, she is also not every woman I ever loathed: Not clingy, not mean, not manipulative, not jaded, not ever a pain. I’ve known Angela for 3 years, and I still get butterflies in my stomach every time I hear her soothing yet sultry voice. No matter what else I may be doing, hers is a siren call I can never ever resist: “Let’s play, sexy baby ….” An evening with Angela is a sexual symphony with many movements, compelling climaxes and deliciously wet codas. I almost feel like buying her a dozen roses and screaming “bravo!” every time we finish making love.

Angela is the moxie of youth, the compassion of experience and the humor of your best friend all wrapped into one, an erotic genius who makes you feel like the only guy in her world while fucking you till plead for mercy and release begin to escape your quivering lips. She is like a many-sided jewel, a unique emotional treasure whose intimate secrets reveal themselves in a thousand simultaneous flashes of insight and imagination. (Please forgive the cliché, but she really does seem to know what I want before even I know what I want.)

In a way, I hesitate to recommend Angela so highly, since I actually hate the thought of sharing her. Why, had I met her twenty years ago when my future was less defined than at present, I surely would have begged her to stay with me forever. She alone has taught me the ecstasy of surrender to that rare girl you just trust implicitly, deep in your heart of hearts, because she never takes your vulnerability without first offering up her own. And don’t even get me started on the explicit stuff. Grandma was lying when she informed all you ladies that the way to a man’s heart is straight through his stomach. When Angela is in the room, it is not food that I want to eat.

I would give up every woman I’ve ever known for just one Angela.

Thass the fack, Jack.

***Once again, let me remind you that The Erotic Awards is a yearly fund-raising event hosted by the Leydig Trust to raise money for The Outsiders, a support and outsource program for the physically handicapped regarding personal and sexual relationships. Do me, yourself and them a favor by visiting the websites and checking them out.

I kinda-sorta market myself as a Fetish Goddess/Fem Domme Fatale or something of the sort. Yet — as you would see if you could read my email and/or listen in on some of my calls — some find me and my “thing” rather confusing. (What exactly is this “literate smut” thing all about? What do you mean by “erotic torture?” Just what do you consider sexual misadventure?)

But my vision, from this side of the telphone –who I am, what I do, how I do it– seems quite clear, even decidely translucent. It is the divine craft of creation which underlies each and every fantasy I weave. A supervisor once explained to the company for which we both worked that, “When Angela does a call, by the time she is done the caller is going to know what the carpet smells like.”

Which is indeed what I am always striving for. I mean, why even make the effort otherwise? To my way of thinking, anything else would be the equivalent of clock-watching in an everyday nine-to-five job. See what I mean? I just don’t do mediocre. I don’t want it from the people I spend my money with, so why would I try to pass it off on my callers?

Thus it follows (and I’ve been told–many, many times) that my fantasies (of total sublimation, tease and denial, sissification, naughty secretary, cold-hearted governess, forced cock-sucking, cuckolding, etc.) are as close to “the real deal” as it gets.

And, in fact, I do periodically run across the caller who cannot separate the fantasy from the reality, the story teller from business woman/girl next door. It can be as hard on me as it is on them.

Because — while they are hopelessly yearning in their real-time/everyday lives to be banished forever to a cage of my making or lick my ass in the middle of Times Square or lose their masculinity to the sure and evil slice of my antique scimitar — I do sincerely care about the people I do business with. I want them to have fun, be taken on the roller coaster ride of their lives. I want them live out their dirtiest, filthiest fantasies to the nth degree.

BUT, I want them to walk away from the call feeling good about themselves. How I try to explain it clients is this way: You should feel dirty when you are doing a phonesex call. That is the point of it. But, if you walk away from that call still feeling dirty, then something is wrong. This is not healthy phone sex. Not healthy fantasy. Another way I try to get this is across is (at least most of the time): DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME.

So fantasy and reality, with all the grey areas in-between and around all the prickly edges, are always finely delineated matters. And I am always squinting my eyes, looking for that ever-illusive and always-changing doodle that keeps the boundaries clear.

Because it’s my job to do that. Particularly when the caller can’t.

***

And…

• Look what I’ve been up to. (This is just a hub site to which I can redirect the email from my other sites.)
• I have an ad at Fleshbot this week (10/18 thru 10/24), thanks to a very special person (soon to be added to my Savant Collection).
• I’ve become a semi-official editor at Tit-Elation.
• I’ve been promoted to moderator at Sex Kitten.

Slip of a Girl had me back for the interview I’d mentioned in an earlier entry–girl talk, don’t you know? And it was a heck of a lot of fun. As I’d also noted previously, I like her blog a lot. And I don’t lie. You know that. Bookmark her site…she has this obsession with vintage lingerie and posts often. So it is always with great pleasure and delight that I bop on over to her blog to check out what currently has her swooning.

So, about this interview:

I know I mentioned that I was precocious as a little girl. And I recall something about my personal lingerie choices. There was some talk of cross-dressers and lingerie fetishes. I am thinking maybe she put something in my drink. Because I sure was talkative and quite revealing, considering my usual approach to all of this.

I know I said something about “grown up parts.” Not sure what that was all about. She was very curious about my own personal lingerie opinions and choices, so we dished about that for a while. Don’t you worry, Pervert Savant, I played my cards very close to my vest. Just like you suggested. I mean I can’t give away all my/your/our secrets, now, can I? Isn’t that what you said?

She even wanted to know about my brand of Phone Sex and my Erotic Writing, and was, indeed, very interested. It made me wonder if she wasn’t masturbating on the other side of my flat screen. (Hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?)

She’d first found me via my story She Never Knew over at Blistered Lips, and as it involves panties and a bit of tawdry femdom sex play, she was keenly curious about the fetish of cross-dressing (the Angela St. Lawrence version). Like I said: I was friendly, even affable, but played it sexy and mysterious. I think she liked me a lot.

And I just know she wants me.

…those bad, bad, bad little boys!

I added this quote to Zen Quotes, because I love it:

Be nice to a man and he’s as good as gone. Cater to him, run after him, spill a few tears over him at the breakfast table, call him “Dearie” and you’ll have him falling into the arms of the first vamp who throws him a red rose and a cruel word now and then, when she thinks of it. –Nita Naldi

You can read more about this fem fatale here. Simply fascinating stuff.

and…..

• Did you know I have a Yahoo 360 Page? Give me a holler.
• I am really liking this Slip of a Girl more and more. If you like lingerie you really should be reading her blog daily. She’s deleriously industrious–posting two, three, even four times a day. Lotsa fun! In fact, I’m adding her to my links.
• Which, by the way, is where I found The History of Stockings.
• Been slacking on the calls, but everyday BS (as it has a tendency to do) and a female-thing (now abating) kinda-sorta took me a bit off track. Plus someone hurt my feelings..the dirty rat bastid! Where’s a slave when you need your wounds licked? Look for me tonight….I will try to be there. And I did say try.
• I read the most beautiful poem last week.
• From the “I Should Have Been Born Blonde” true tales of Angela St. Lawrence: I recently bet a caller $5.00 in regards to something or other. Well, I won. So I tell him, You are gonna pay up, too: I will make you call me @ one cent/minute and talk for fifty minutes. I couldn’t understand why he was laughing so hard. Hmmmm….
• I am crowning a new “savant” today: Supervert as “Deviant Savant;” so now I have two. You will find them under Zen-semble by the end of the day.
• Make that three savants. I just collected another one. Because I’ve just crowned Richard, to be know as “Submissive Savant.” Hey, do you even know how to spell the word concatenation…let alone use it in a sentence? I sure don’t.
• Three pieces of mine have been published at Tit-Elation, which I happen to think is tits and champagne when it comes to written erotica. So I’m a happy girl.
• And I was told by someone very special that I should let you know right up front: Women are naturally superior to men. So there.

It seems this blogger, A Slip of a Girl, caught up with my very naughty story, She Never Knew and found it hmmm…exciting? intriguing? stimulating? very dirty?

Perhaps, none of the above. But she at least found it interesting as she blogged about it here and followed up with an interview request–to which I agreed. Low and behold, barely moments ago, a list of her in-depth questions (with the threat of more to come) tip-toed into my inbox.

So, despite this being a “no phone day,” as is my custom on Mondays, I am off to at least consider what my responses might be and maybe even get started on formulating a few of them.

Because this will take a bit of serious effort on my part. I mean, after all, I might as well try to look sophisticated, brilliant and all that jazz.

Right?

….toodles