” So how does a girl like you get to be a girl like you?”

 My equally mouthy and statuesque  older sister and I left classes at Arizona State University, driving  all night to reach Los Angeles California dead set on a fun-filled spring break. It was cool, fresh and breezy as we approached San Diego, beat the hell out of the relentless heat that was quick approaching in Tempe.  Our destination was  the Travel Lodge motel in Encino, best rate we could find so we took it. Cruising down the  L.A. freeways towards the San Fernando valley was exhilarating.  Shortly after sunrise  we pulled into a local deli for breakfast. We ate like starved pilgrims.  Phyllis paid the check and I walked outside to buy a paper and check out the local happenings. A tall, in shape, handsome and friendly man started talking to me.  Phyllis came out and his eyes bulged ” Would the two of you like to have dinner tonight?” he casually asked. Free food to college students, the answer was yes.  He agreed to pick us up at our Motel.  What to wear was not an issue. Phyllis was living  on her own, supported by a work/study program with a job in Current Periodicals at the University library. I lived at home and a mountain bike was my only means of transpo.  We put on some clean jeans and t-shirts and hopped into his Sedan de Ville. “I decided to cook at my place, hope you don’t mind he offered with a polished and casual air.”  Who is this guy, I’m starting to think.  If he’d been a Rancher, Farmer, Cowboy, Professor or construction worker I could read him, but he wasn’t.  He was the Jay Leno of Australia. A bona-fide big time TV personality  and I was sitting next to him.  Phyllis still has an autographed copy of his black and white head shot.  We arrive at his swanky security controlled condo and go inside. It’s nice.  Big over stuffed couch, matching dishes on the dining table, European cookware on the stove.  A couple of bottles of wine with dinner and a visit from a Hollywood A lister to confirm their tennis match the following day added to the excitement  simmering inside my nineteen year old  psyche. Let’s play some games he suggested after dinner.  Phyllis was the Monopoly queen and many summers on my Grandfather’s  remote homestead ranch had allowed me to be a better than average poker player. Those weren’t the kind of games he had in mind.  It seems we reminded him of his ex-wife.  A tall, stunning, kinky Las Vegas showgirl who had introduced him to BDSM  and held him in her grasp.  They had parted ways on the recommendation of a major network.  If he wanted to stay, she had to go.  Out of the closet comes a helmet with horns and a breast-plate.  “I’ve got these for starters and there’s more. ” The Gilchrist Phyllis says.”  Her Major in English and double minor in Art History and Library Science make this historical type costume immediately recognizable to her.  I stayed quite, studied his facial expressions, tried to get a better look at the contents of the closet and knew nothing about the Gilchrist. “Put it on, it will fit , you are exactly her size.”  It ended up being a complex night.  Phyllis pooped out afer an hour but I was drawn into this whole big experience of emotion, texture, role play, physical force and make the fucker surrender under the heel of my boot ( his ex-wife’s boot).  It ended with some domestic potty play.  He sat on the toilet and I poured hot water from the faucet on his penis while he stroked it and promised mommy he would be a good boy.

The next morning found us at Venice beach. Skaters, bodybuilders, cyclists, panhandlers, street vendors.  It was like a carnival on the boardwalk.  Sure beat my usual Saturday job of mowing the lawn.  I kept thinking about the night before. It was like a combination of a Salvador Dali Painting, Karl Jung’s archetypes, A  David Lynch movie and an adult book store. “Nature favors the female”  my half Cherokee, half French Grandfather used to say as we surveyed  the horizon while both wild and domestic animals mated  on his remote Arizona Ranch.  I’d spent every summer with him there from age 8 thru 18 when he died in a truck accident. During the school year from age 5 thru 10 I attended night classes at ASU with my mother.  She was  studying Psychology.  I would draw or read or sometimes listen to the lecture.  Topics of  the day were Feminism, Gender Equality, Hypnosis, the unconscious mind, I’m ok you’re ok etc.  .  My life up untill now  all coalesce’s into the experience of the previous night.  It  makes sense in a way I can’t describe yet understand on a primal level, I am an Alpha Female.

Spent and sunburned we return to our Oasis, the Travel Lodge.  We immediately fall asleep on the cool crisp white sheets.  The phone rings, I answer, it’s him. “Do you guys want to come back over tonight?” He serenely asks.  “Phyllis, wake up, you wanna go back to the movie stars place tonight?” “For money, she  mumbles”, she says for money, “how much money he asks” how much ya want Phil ?” five hundred dollars each”  fine is his instant answer.  See you two at seven ok?”  “Ok, I reply”  I hang up and start whoohooing, Phyllis we just made five hundred bucks each! “  “No, you just made five hundred bucks cause I’m not going.   This guy wants us to tie him up, spank him, dress up in his ex-wifes clothes, pretend we are historical figures, dress him up in our clothes, kick him in the balls, pee and spit all over him and slap his face.  Are you crazy?   Never been saner Phyllis.