Today we welcome Pynk as she stops off at Novel Spaces on the fifth leg of her Guilty Pleasures blog tour in honor of the release of Politics. Escorts. Blackmail. (December 11, 2012 Grand Central Publishing).
Pynk, the pseudonym under which Novel Spaces member Marissa Monteilh writes erotica, was the winner of the 2008 YOUnity award for Fastest Rising Literary Star and Author of the Year. Warner Books released the first Pynk title, Erotic City, in November 2008. It went on to become a finalist in the 2009 African American Literary Awards in the category of erotica, and was voted one of the Best Reads for 2008 by Black Expressions. Urban-reviews.com gave Erotic City its Top-Shelf review of 5-stars. The second title, Sexaholics, about four women addicted to sex, was released in March 2010, and her third title, Sixty-Nine, was published in March 2011.
Voted amongst the 2010 Women of Influence in Publishing by Written Magazine, and a 2010 Pink Diamond Award Honoree at the African-American Literary Festival hosted by SistahFriend Bookclub, Marissa Monteilh (Mon-tay) is the best-selling author of nine mainstream novels and novellas: May December Souls, The Chocolate Ship, Hot Boyz, Dr. Feelgood, Something He Can Feel, The Six-Letter Word, Hot Girlz, Turnabout is Fair Play, and Make Me Hot. Make Me Hot was an African American Literary Award nominee. She also contributed to two erotic anthologies called Morning Noon and Night: Can't Get Enough and also The Heat of the Night.
The Girlfriend Experience
by Madam Money Watts
High-five
to Pynk for taking you on a journey into the world of sex for money in
Politics. Escorts. Blackmail., a novel about politicians and celebrities
who frequent the services of New York escorts. My name is Madam Money
Watts, and right off the bat I want to make this perfectly clear; as far
as sex for money, while my company, Lip Service, has indeed accepted
money from some very high-profile, powerful, wealthy clients in exchange
for Lip Service contractors to "escort" said clients by spending
private time with said clients, I have never accepted money for sex.
Let's get that straight first. These are consenting adults, and what
happens between two grown people, should stay between two grown people.
So,
on to the purpose of this blog post... Pynk has informed me that the
working title of
Politics. Escorts. Blackmail. was
The Girlfriend
Experience. She was intrigued with the term girlfriend experience, also
known as GFE in some circles (clears throat), and she asked if I would
share my knowledge of it, and I happily agreed (not that the definition
fits any particular goings-on at Lip Service, mind you).
Anyway,
here we go. The term "girlfriend experience" is not a new term. It's
been around for years, though it was used quite often when the sex
scandal broke about the former governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer, who
allegedly paid for high-priced prostitutes, one of those women being
Ashley Dupre.
A girlfriend experience is a pay-for-play
connection between individuals that gives the illusion of intimacy
between the two. From the outside, those who'd observe the couple would
easily assume that they were an item, committed, and in love. GFE is a
term used to describe the sexual lifestyle preference of a client who
pays for a high-end call girl, wanting the escort to play the role and
act like she's his woman, sometimes in bed, which I know nothing about,
and sometimes out of bed, sometimes both—imagine that. It can involve
meals together, holding hands, hugging, talking—more personal
interaction and public displays of affection. In bed, I'm told it could
mean snuggling, conversation, deep French kissing, sometimes spending
the night, foreplay, romantic music. If the escort is a male, the term
is "boyfriend experience," or BFE.
From what I hear,
there's also a term called "porn star experience," or PSE, as in the
type of sex you'd see in XXX-rated movies. It's supposedly less about
feelings and more about the performance.
Based on the
GFE theory, Pynk has given me permission to share a scene from chapter
two of her novel,
Politics.Escorts.Blackmail., very loosely based on Lip
Service, that involves an escort named Midori Moody. Bless Midori's
heart, she's yearned for a "normal" life with a man who could save her
from her profession. To her, to have the husband, kids, and white picket
fence, with two dogs, Lassie and Rin-Tin-Tin, is only fantasy. But in
the meantime, there's this amazing, yet married, Long Island doctor who
shows her a real good time in Florida; enough of a good time to distract
her from her belief that any man who'd ever be attracted to her would
never see her as virtuous enough to marry.
And so,
enjoy the below excerpt as Midori fulfills the Long Island doctor's GFE
fantasy. And be nice to Midori Moody because in the book, and in real
life, she's my little sister. As a disclaimer, please note that I cannot
be responsible for the fictional words of Pynk. She's always making up
something. She has such a way with words, in fact, she convinced me that
this story had to be told, not to glamorize the business, but to paint a
picture of what can happen if said clients have sex with said escorts,
and allow you to be a fly on the said escort wall.
Get
ready to be eroticized Pynk-style, because... there's hot, there's
red-hot, and then there's Pynk! (Pynk told me to say that.)
Ciao!
Madam Money Watts
Midori’s
trip the previous weekend with the Long Island doctor to the Florida
Keys was spectacular. She wasn’t even mad at her sister for assigning
the booking to her. Turns out the client wanted the GFE, or girlfriend
experience, as opposed to what most of the men who paid for her services
wanted—the PSE, or porn star experience. The PSE was usually freakier
and definitely more expensive because it involved sex that was more
hardcore.
The Long Island doctor, a.k.a. Mr. 81, who was in his
fifties, paid top dollar for someone to simply be the girl next door,
doing what some girlfriends do. Be his willing, feminine, sexy trophy.
No drama allowed.
For a moment, while with him, Midori had
actually forgotten she was a working girl and fell victim to the allure
of the imaginary romance he was trying to portray for his own reasons.
No one on the Florida Keys island knew who he was, unlike in the city,
where he was often recognized. The two of them were incognito, holding
hands, pretending to be a couple though having just met. While she
fulfilled his fantasy, she felt cherished and got lost along the white
sugar sand beaches with spiraling coconut palm trees, under powder-blue
skies in mid-eighty-degree weather. He fulfilled her heart’s fantasy
without even knowing it.
The first evening was like a true date.
They met at the restaurant called Shor. After dinner, he walked her to
her own two-bedroom suite, and he went to his. They exchanged nothing
more than a good-night peck on the lips.
The next day after
breakfast, he took her shopping at the local boutiques and bought her
formal evening wear, a sapphire bustier with a matching thong, skimpy
lingerie, and a tangerine bikini. They went parasailing and scuba diving
on the private beach. That evening they enjoyed a cozy dinner cruise at
sunset and danced the night away like newlyweds.
Later, in his
hotel suite, after sipping expensive champagne and feeding each other
chocolate-dipped strawberries, she allowed him to live out his desires:
French kissing, expert cunnilingus, her riding him until she had an
orgasm, or three, and then him mounting her until he got his, all to the
sounds of smooth, baby-making jazz. Then, after about an hour’s worth
of pillow talk, she went to her hotel room, floating on cloud nine.
He
was the head of thoracic surgery at the University Hospital of
Brooklyn, and if Taye Diggs had an older brother, he would be it. He had
dark skin, white teeth, a bald head, and he was sexy but he acted
like he didn’t know it. He was a leading, esteemed surgeon who mended
hearts for a living. But it became obvious to Midori that he was trying
to survive after having his heart broken.
After the throes of deep
sex, while holding “Brooklyn,” her escort name, in his arms, he shared
with her: “My wife is cheating on me. I don’t want to give her half,
since we didn’t sign a prenup. After twenty-two years, we’re in a
sexless marriage. It all comes down to the fact that it’s cheaper to
keep her. So instead of having a chick on the side who wants more, I
hire an escort every now and then. But I’m never with the same girl
twice.”
Midori gave a smile but frowned inside. In her mind she snapped her fingers,
Damn.
The
final day they rented scooters to get in some last-minute sightseeing,
had lunch, then simply checked out of the hotel and headed off to the
airport in separate town cars like it was all a dream. They never even
spent one night together.
Copyright © 2012 by Pynk