Tonight, I have discussed with the editor of Scarlet how many times one of our sales guy can come in a night, fingered both Devon and Chasey Laine vibrating pussies and dispatched said sales boy into my conservatory carrying a Cat in a Can and Pleasure-Skin Cheap Sex artificial vagina, with the parting line “Don’t feel obliged to take things to conclusion. You can fit in more reviews tonight if you don’t come."
It’s not some bizarre Scarlet initiation ritual. This is my job. And now I'm typing a blog entry knowing that a colleague is tossing one off four rooms away. (NB: said colleague is currently 'between flats' and I offered him my spare room. It's not part of his job to live with me. Though I tried to make it a part of my contract that I got easy access to cute members of the team. Some bosses are so boring...)
And I have a night of this to look forward to. He's still got to work his way through the CyberSkin Chasey Lain Pussy (the first pussy/arse combo I fingered tonight and disturbingly realistic feeling. Extremely so) the Devon UR3 Vibrating pussy (less tight than Chasey - clearly too many DVDA* scenes) the Adonis Pouch and the Helping Hand. Still, I have given him access to my Strictly Broadband account. I'm nothing if not fair.
If you see the pictures of me at the Night of the Senses in the latest copy of Scarlet, now back from the printers, you'll see another example why my job sometimes feels like anything but work. And yes, it still feels odd, even to me.
*An acronym missing from the Free dictionary and thesaurus as it doesn't refer to Digital Versatile Disc Audio, Digital Video Disc Audio or the DVD Association but rather to Double Vaginal Double Anal (a link that still contains an inaccuracy - it's not a fictional act as some of the porn stars I've met can testify.)
There are moments in everyone's life where a moment of clarity creeps in and you thing "What the fuck am I doing?" I had one such moment this weekend. Sex toy review time rolled around again. I unpacked the products I've been sent to review. I started reviewing them. And I made a very foolish mistake. I looked down mid-way through reviewing the Mini Mini Rabbit. Few things make you feel as much of a pervert as seeing what looks like the latest addition to the Sylvanian Families toy range on your snatch, just as it's giving you an orgasm. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Made worse by the fact that it was a particularly good orgasm.
And then came the Horny Hopper. No comment I make could be funnier than the product itself.
Other than masturbating for money (ahem) I've been doing the usual load of writing for Scarlet, including reviewing the Night of the Senses. The full review (and pictures including, it must be said, a very flattering arse shot) is in the next issue of the mag so I won't go into too much detail. But highlights included lying on a rack having champagne poured into my mouth by one bird while another one straddled me, getting my bare breasts covered up for a photo by the gorgeous (though sadly attached, so it was purely him being helpful) Mat Fraser, and meeting a bloke who I ended up going on a couple of dates with in the Cock Fondling Booth. I didn't win the Erotic Award for best writer (boo) but it went to a woman who wrote an anal sex odyssey, so she suffered more for her art.
On a slightly less salacious front, I also went to the launch of The Friday Project which was everything I'd expected: drunken, and full of very funny/interesting people (like this bloke, his lovely bird, and this rather tasty but unavailable bloke.) I urge you to buy every book they ever produce because, from what I've seen, they all rock. And I'm not just saying that because the founder spent an evening throwing sticky penises at my wall and making me laugh. Get your mind out the gutter. It turns out that the Pink Limpy turns very sticky when you wash it, which I needed to because it's such a great comedy item that it comes out at most of my dinner parties. I wrote to the company that sold it to me and they got back to me explaining you just need to roll it in cornflour to make it non-sticky (of course. Why didn't I think of that? Duh me) but very kindly sent me a replacement anyway. Albeit the small one. Obviously a company run by men if they assume size doesn't matter. So, anyway, I had no cornflour but when my mate was round, and we were both drunk, we discovered (I dimly recall by me throwing it at him) that it stuck to the wall, in impressively stretched formations. Cue half an hour of us trying to outdo each other in the penis throwing stakes, cut short only by an incident that resulted in almost breaking his knee cap and me having a three inch diameter bruise on my arse. It looked like we might have to go to casualty at one point, which would have made for an interesting 'how did this accident happen?' report. I'm pretty sure 'attempting to remove a penis that's stuck to the ceiling' isn't something that crops up that often (though I wouldn't stake money on it being the first time they've seen it, having seen documentaries about things removed from people's intimate cavities.) So, the moral of the story: don't throw penises at the ceiling when you're drunk. It hurts.
Other than that, I've mostly been sitting at home, writing and coughing, courtesy of the manky lurgy that's going round at the moment that lingered for nearly a month. As a result, I've had very little else in the way of life. I have, however, discovered a new favourite website which takes slogan T-shirts to a whole new level of evil. T-shirt Hell contains such pithy slogans as Your sister is hot but your mum does that thing with her tongue, I taught your boyfriend that thing you like and Mary was only a virgin if you don't count anal. And these are among the less offensive T-shirts they sell.It's my new favourite find, along with Dirty Fan Male which there was a brilliant documentary about the other day.
Oh, and my latest book has come back from the printers and is due to arrive in shops soon. And I've got another couple of books being presented at Frankfurt Book Fair - proposals that publishers asked me to write, so here's hoping that people there like the ideas enough to commission them (not least because one's on oral sex and the other's on threesomes and it'd be nice to be able to say of either "Oh, yeah, I wrote the book on it." Not that that would help me very much in the "Honest, I'm a nice girl you could take home to mother," stakes but to be fair, I think I'm already screwed on that one) And that's about it. Who knows what the week will hold though...