Kiss Unrequited

I wanted to kiss her last night. But I didn’t, of course, I couldn’t. Why didn’t I? Because I wasn’t supposed to. Because it’s antithetical to everything that I committed myself to: Charlie and our sexually exploratory but non-polyamorous relationship. I didn’t want to kiss her. But my knee wanted to touch hers, my hand wanted to rub her neck, my arms wanted to pull her close to me, casually, playfully. And when she turned to say something about the music to me, whispering almost, and I smelled the pungent sexy cigarette breath, my mouth wanted to taste her. Even though I know that if I were to go there and continue to go there, unabashedly following my desires, in two to three months time I would be repulsed by that breath. Just as I am sometimes repulsed by the fat of Charlie’s belly. This will pay off in the end, I think. This restraint. The choice to be reasonable. “Desire has no reason…” I heard myself saying to her as I, in my spinning brain, leaned my face into her neck, my pelvis pressed against hers in the dark red corner of Stonewall bar. The place that spawned freedom for the gays: this is where I wanted to kiss her, but didn’t.

When we said good-bye, in her embrace I could feel her instinct to pull, and when she kissed my cheek, it was almost a default that her lips landed there. We’re both faking it terribly.

So I went home and watched “Grey Gardens” which I won in the raffle. I tried to forget, to pat myself on the back and convince myself that I did well to resist temptation. It will pay off, this struggle, it will be worth it, she will thank me for it in the end, when she’s in love with someone who doesn’t have a man in her life. Yeah, sure, it will be worth it when I’m living as a recluse with my mother and eight cats, regretting all the things I didn’t do. Slap me for writing that. But he comes home in the middle of Grey Gardens, I look around at the mess our apartment has become, and the possibility doesn’t seem too far from reality. I, after all, enjoy being alone. I’m three cats away from being a cat lady. I have not yet achieved the artistic success I desire. So I could be that eccentric prancing around an old house with a scarf on her head, thinking I could still be on Broadway, if only they could see me now. Maybe she’ll make a documentary of me and I’ll get famous anyway as a caricature of myself, as drunk drag queens impersonate me in piano bars thirty years later.

Why didn't I kiss her? Because she wants what so many lesbians want: a relationship with a woman who isn't tied up with a man. In my case, that man happens to be her friend. They've know each other long before he and I met, long before I was an adult. And the funny thing is, he practically orchestrated this dramatic sex triangle. He encouraged me to go out on a date with her and do whatever I want. I said, "Sure, why not?" without expecting anything. She didn't have any expectations either. He wasn't expecting, but hoping this arrangement might lead to a threesome. None of this would've happened if she hadn't drunkenly kissed him and said some things that gave him the impression she was interested in playing with both of us. I was not there. He came home and told me. Then he set us up. On our date, she practically denied ever having any interest in being with him. "No, it's just a fantasy. I do not want to have sex with Charlie. Charlie's my friend."

I went back to her place. Still no expectations. Though I said in the elevator, "I think we should at least make out." I had to get even. More than that, she was sexy. And I was on fire with possibilities. Possibilities that live in the land of no expectation.

Is it any surprise that we had sex, after all this anticipation of nothing, but possibly something? It was good, not great, as most first-time encounters are. She was nervous, unsure about the situation. "What am I doing sleeping with my friend's girlfriend?" I had to convince her it was okay. So it was not great, but intense. It had been a long time, over a year, since I had a one-on-one sexual experience with a woman. Maybe it was the refreshing newness, maybe it was the weirdness of the situation, maybe it was her oral devotion, her unflagging determination to make me come, that made it more than a casual one-night-stand. Then later, in the nest of sweaty sheets, we shared some things about ourselves. She saw me laugh, acknowledged it as something sweet. "When I first met you, you had an edge," she said.

It's true. To most people I have an "edge." Most people don't see the side that Charlie knows so well. But in a moment, without intending to, I let her see it.

I didn't realize how intimate we were until I saw her a week later. She had been on my mind, but I thought it was inconsequential, a natural lingering that would fade after a week of sex with Charlie. But when I saw her again, I held her for a while. I felt the buzz of seeing a new lover after the first fuck. The kind of buzz that makes me want more, not only sexually, but mindfully, emotionally. I wanted to discover her. Polyamorists call this phenomenon New Relationship Energy or NRE for short.

But I don't want a new relationship! Or do I? She doesn't want to have a threesome with us! Or does she? She can't seem to handle being with me in any way that involves him, whether he's physically present or not. And Charlie, my love, doesn't like the idea of me longing to be with a woman without him.

Where does that leave me? Pondering a kiss that never happened, in the grey gardens of my mind.

FORBIDDEN KISS!

FORBIDDEN KISS
The Erotica Series

Saturday, June 6th at 8 pm

Tickets Here

Stage Left Studio
438 W. 37th Street, 5A, NYC.

The Forbidden Kiss show, with tantalizing new erotic scenes, and exciting new comedy sketches, has been selling out! Don't wait too late to get your tickets to this hot show!


Featuring...
your hostess, Cheryl King, with TC Corwin, in a silent scene called Wordless Kiss
Marlene Nichols & Brian Longwell in a scene
Brionne Davis & Frank Blocker in One Arm, a scene by Tennessee Williams
Lewis Paul, with another hilarious song-alogue
Carl Kissin, with "Floss, then…" an inside look at seduction
Stephanie Sellars with a naughty nurse sketch
DeeAnne Gorman, with beautiful original erotic poety and haiku
Michelle Vest, who will reprise her amazing and erotic "The Massage"
Katie Northlich, returning with more of her amazing improv
and
The Bitter Poet, with poetry and angst

Showtime 8 pm.
Join us after the show for beverages, and conversation with the Forbidden Kiss company of performers.
Tickets $18

- UPCOMING FORBIDDEN KISS PERFORMANCES INCLUDE
- JUNE 27
Cheryl King, TC Corwin, Carl Kissin, Jill Melanie Wirth, Stephanie Sellars, Rocco Privetera, Brian Longwell,
Brionne Davis, and The Bitter Poet

www.forbiddenkiss.info

Reader's Kiss Tonight!

ON EASTER SUNDAY - CHECK OUT THE SECOND READER'S KISS - featuring Alithea Howes, Stephanie Sellars, Brian Longwell, Michelle Ramoni, Jill Melanie Wirth, Chris Raines, Donna Barkman, DeeAnne Gorman and Helena Fitzgerald.

Forbidden Kiss shows will no longer feature readings of erotica. Instead new and exciting erotica will be read by Forbidden Kiss regulars at a new series called The Reader's Kiss. This event will be salon-style, with the audience sitting in a circle, and sharing complimentary wine and refreshments with the erotica readers during the reading. The first Reader's Kiss was a big success. Don't miss this second one, Sunday. April 12 from 7-9 pm. And for the first few months, tickets to this event will be discounted at $10.

DON'T WORRY ABOUT MISSING YOUR EASTER FESTIVITIES.
WE'LL HAVE CHOCOLATE EASTER EGGS AND PEEPS, IN ADDITION TO THE USUAL REFRESHMENTS.
Visit Smarttix to buy tickets.

Stage Left Studio is the only solo show repertory theater in NYC. This 35-seat salon theater is conveniently located on the fifth floor of 438 W 37th Street 5A, NYC, just east of 37 Arts, between 9th and 10th Avenues, near the Port Authority and Penn Stations A, C or E line.


Forbidden Kiss is a Cheryl King Production
www.cherylkingproductions.com

Reader's Kiss Tonight!

MARCH 22 from 7-9 pm at Stage Left Studio!!!

CHECK OUT THE FIRST EVER READER’S KISS – Performers from the fabulous and sexy Forbidden Kiss: The Erotica Series bring new and original work to Stage Left Studio in a new series called The Reader's Kiss.



This event will be salon-style, with the audience and performers sitting in a circle, and sharing complimentary wine and refreshments during the reading. For the first few months, tickets to this event will be discounted at $10. Readers at this event are Cheryl King, Carl Kissin, Alithea Howes, Stephanie Sellars, Donna Barkman, DeeAnne Gorman, Michelle Ramoni, and Brian Longwell.



For more info on this show and on Forbidden Kiss, visit www.forbiddenkiss.info

Hitachi Encore

I'm singing the Hitachi number again this Saturday night...I think the show is sold out, but you may get in if you act fast...just say the phrase "horny for Hitachi" at the box office.

SS

FORBIDDEN KISS
The Erotica Series

Saturday, February 7th at 8 pm

Tickets Here

Stage Left Studio
438 W. 37th Street, 5A, NYC.

Performers include
Cheryl King, TC Corwin, Emil Keller, Delrita Doyle, Lewis Paul, Stephanie Sellars, Carl Kissin, Ed Malone,Frank Blocker, Helena Fitzgerald, Chris Raines, Philip Galinsky and Marlene Nichols


"The Forbidden Kiss show is moving into 2009 in a big way, featuring popular acts from the last three successful years, and by adding new and innovative erotic theater.
Come and witness ART/SEX/WOMAN/MEN, in which Cheryl King plays a rich woman who poses semi-naked for two artists, a sculptor (TC Corwin)and a portrait artist (Emil Keller), who create artwork based on her image while she tells them erotic stories. Conflict and humor fill this 4-part series, which premiered on New Year's Eve. The finished art works will be displayed in the Stage Left Studio lobby gallery upon completion. Come to the Feb 7 show for Act 3 of this innovative erotic art piece."

Hitachi, My Love

What did you do on New Year's Eve? Mine was pretty uneventful. I used a vibrator on stage while singing in lingerie. Man, I really got to get a life.

For my last Forbidden Kiss performance on New Year's Eve, I re-wrote the lyrics of the song "Freddy, My Love" from the musical Grease, which I sang as an homage to my favorite vibrator, the Hitachi Magic Wand.

HITACHI, MY LOVE

Hitachi, my love
I love you more than words can say
Hitachi, my love
(Please) stay plugged in as I squirm away
Thinking of you can make the day so much better
Playing with you makes my pussy so much wetter
My roomate’ll flip cause I came all over her sweater

Hitachi, my love…

Hitachi, you know, abstinence makes me feel so blue
That’s ok though, your pulses makes me lust for you
My clit will have a hard attack when it catches
That change of speed with the part that attaches
Oh how I wish I knew a girl who loves snatches

Hitachi, my love

Don’t keep your magic from me
I thrill to every vibe
Your buzzing’s kinda funny, but honey, it feels fine
I treasure all that humming, your size is really stunning
They say you can be numbing, but I’m cumming for the 5th time!

Oh, oh, oh, oh!

Hitachi, you’ll see, I’ll use you on a girl someday
And I will be wearing my roommate’s lingerie
Thinking about it my twat’s throbbing already
Knowing when she comes home, we’re bound to be ready
To make her cervix spray all over her silk teddy

Hitachi, my love…Hitachi, my love!


Also check out my performance of "Orgy Etiquette," a column I wrote for New York Press.

Enjoy!

FORBIDDEN KISS READING SAT NIGHT! (DEC 11)

(Scroll down for a new hot story post!)

SS

It’s cold outside, but it’s hot at Stage Left Studio with the company of Forbidden Kiss!

Join us for the best erotic theatre NYC has to offer this Saturday night, December 13.

The show features

Cheryl King
Alithea Howes
Ruby Marez
Delrita Doyle
Katie Northlich
Chris Raines
Stephanie Sellars
Brian Longwell
The Bitter Poet

Tickets $18 at the door, or get $13 tix with discount code KISS at Smarttix.

Stage Left Studio is located at 438 West 37th Street, Suite 5A, just east of 37 Arts (between 9th and 10th Aves)

CARNIVAL OF DESIRE

He had never been to a party like this before, an Eat-In that is. He had been to other erotic parties with me, but he was a One Leg Up Virgin. It was a few days before Halloween, so the theme, Carnival Masquerade, was fitting. My boyfriend and I were dressed to the sixty-nines for a night of erotic delight. In the lobby sprinkled with rose petals, I slipped off my trench coat and slipped on long pink evening gloves. We both put on our masks, the final touch. A single masked woman, who had arrived at the same time, complimented our costumes. We took the elevator with her and learned that it was her first time as well. Hmmm.

The elevator opened to a reception fronting a coat-check. We checked in some of our things with the sexy coat-check girl. (Why don’t all sexy coat-check girls wear lingerie?) Then we began exploring the space. It was black and red with gothic furniture, various racks and machines, whips and paddles, cuffs, straps and ropes hanging from hooks on the walls. We guessed it was either a dungeon or an apartment belonging to one kinky person. Yet the feeling in the air was sensual and mysterious. As always, One Leg Up goes over the top with the aesthetic spread of fresh fruits, veggies, cheese, breads, and chocolates, a classy counterpoint to the S&M décor. In my humble opinion, my masked love was the hottest guy there, and I felt sexy in my black corset topping a pink and white furry skirt that opened in the front like two curtains parting to reveal the window, the hot pink panties, the star of the show.

My show, that is, for him. If others want to watch, they may, as long as they make me feel good. They’ve already bought tickets and are entitled to a performance, although no one is obligated to perform. I have the power to withhold my theatrics from critics and hecklers. That’s the beauty of an Eat-In. There is no obligation to do anything other than respect your fellow performers and audience members.

It had been a long time since I attended an Eat-In, so I was reticent at first, standing near the food, observing guests hiding behind their masks. Like most sex parties, a One Leg Up soirée gives people the freedom to check out sexual prospects, without the fear of offending someone or feeling that the gesture is inappropriate to context. The whole point of an Eat-In is to pursue your desires and act out fantasies in a safe environment. If you cross the line of respect (touching before asking), there will probably be someone eager to teach you a lesson with a well-deserved spanking.

I received a proper spanking (just because I wanted it, not for lack of respect) on a beam-like structure called a horse. My spanker (I’ll call her M) was a professional domme who knew what she was doing with a paddle. She was so friendly and considerate that I felt as though I was in the presence of a doctor or professional masseuse. I trusted my body in her hands more than I trusted any other stranger I encountered at the party. It goes without saying that Palagia (the founder of One Leg Up), has a knack for hiring professionals. Earlier in the evening, Palagia suggested I tie my love onto a swinging table suspended from the ceiling with chains. M taught me the ropes (pun intended), and introduced my love to nipple clamps. He didn’t get the pleasure at first. Then I fondled his balls as the lovely masked sprite from the elevator appeared behind him, and he seemed to forget the pain.

The Sprite had been holding our attention since we arrived. She was pretty, hungry, fresh, and ALONE. We surmised that she would be open to playing with a couple, and as the party was dominated by heterosexual couples and I was not interested in any men other than my horny prince, I broke the ice with a strawberry. The idea came to me when I was feeling like a fish out of water, having been so long away from the scene, standing next to the fruit, hesitant and almost indifferent about approaching anyone. I was feeling out of the loop of lust. Then the strawberry gave me an idea. It wasn’t so much that I desired her. I didn’t want to leave disappointed. I especially didn’t want to disappoint him. My satisfaction didn’t matter so much. I had been to dozens of orgies, and this would not be the last. I could’ve gone home without a taste, but I didn’t want to taint his initiation into the world of One Leg Up. I knew that once I committed myself to a simple physical action, lust, desire and juices would follow in flow.

“I have an idea,” I said. “Follow me.”

Tease him with ambiguity. We walked into the room with the swinging platform. A muscular dude with a low-hanging cock tucked into a leathery pouch of a g-string was splayed against the wall. Various couples were scattered around the space. I was delighted to see a lone lesbian couple playing on the platform or swing or whatever it’s called. The butch was sitting on the swing, big breasts heaving beneath her black button-down shirt, her lover wedged between her legs. The butch reminded me of my ex-girlfriend. Then the feeling washed over me—that desire for women that soars beyond mere curiosity. I turned to the Sprite.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m having a problem and I was wondering if you could help me.” I looked away, feeling awkward and out of practice.

She smiled.

“I have this strawberry and I want to eat it, but it’s too big for my mouth. Will you help me?”

My Prince stood behind me, watching, letting me drive the action of the play. She smiled as I offered her the strawberry. Then she took it and fed it to me. She got my gist. The strawberry passed back and forth between our mouths several times. The dance had begun.

A little later, we found her playing with the dude with the pouched cock. He had been standing against this large metal X on the wall, stroking his cock since the party began. He had been hired as part of the live entertainment, but seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed his work, licking something off the Sprite’s chest. We stood casually next to them, fondling each other. She turned around and presented us with a jar of chocolate sauce made specifically for skin. She dipped her finger in it and frosted my Prince’s nipple. We both licked it off him. X-man retreated into the background. Then the Sprite, the Prince, and I spent the next several minutes frosting and licking each other: breast, nipple, navel. I’m not sure what we enjoyed more—making a mess or cleaning up.

It wasn’t long after this human fondue experiment when Palagia blew her whistle to announce “undies time.” The fact that everyone must strip down to underwear at the same time is a unique part of the Eat-In. You could probably refuse if you want, but if you were shy about wearing nothing but undies among beautiful strangers, then you wouldn’t be at this party, now would you? At an event where nothing is structured, where etiquette is understood (hopefully) and unspoken, you can always count on undies time to bring everyone together. Maybe you’ve had your eye on someone since you arrived, but you haven’t had the courage to let her know you’re interested. Now you have an excuse: “I love your panties,” you could say.

I’m shy in some ways, but when it comes to communal stripping, I’m one of the first to start. In this case, something inspired me to turn it into a show. Maybe it was the sight of my Prince and the Sprite, already demasked and disrobed, sitting on the swing. I slinked into a sensual dance, unhooking my corset slowly as if I were doing a burlesque routine. The furry skirt took at least five minutes to leave my body; before I abandoned it, it became a flag for an imaginary bull, a veil for my eyes, a mink stole for my Prince. With my hot pink panties in full view, the party was now underway…

The Sprite became our girl of the night, drifting in and out of our space, leaving, but always coming back. There was an unspoken agreement to take care of each other; our connection was sealed. The rest was foreplay. She came and went, came and went, and finally came for good against my thigh, as I sat on my Prince’s lap upon a gothic throne in the corner of the master bedroom. She stood before me and moistened my thigh with her juices, letting out a sweet moan as I squirmed in my seat. Then he fucked me on the chair. Not bad for two virgins.

The night dissolved into sweet kisses and whispers between me and my Prince. We stayed until the lights turned on. Our Sprite was gone. No more naked bodies entwined in orgiastic bliss. No more music. No more masks. As the leather was being wiped down, we marveled that just an hour ago, the carnival of desire was in full swing. It seemed as though we were departing a dream. I’m looking forward to my next erotic adventure. Next time I won’t be so shy.