My next session with Lance featured more pissing—and an interview.
I was getting really into this peeing thing. I’d never understood why anyone would find something erotic about urine, but now it made sense. Ever since that first time, when I pissed doggy-style on the floor, in front of a huge mirror, I’d been hooked. It wasn’t because I was doing anything special. There was just something erotic about the release, the intimacy, the voyeurism, and the lack of inhibition. I loved watching myself pee, and now I really wanted to find someone who would pee in front of me.
But I figured out some important basics. Obviously, how you did it was a big part. If you were just matter-of-fact-pissing, it wouldn’t work.
- You had to get into it.
- You couldn’t be modest.
- You had to take it all the way. Just stand there and let it loose.
- Peeing in front of a camera was part of it, but it was also about the mirror. Seeing what you were doing made all the difference.
- You had to do it outside of the bathroom. Location was everything. It made me realize that people should piss in places other than the toilet more often.
While I was enjoying the pee sessions, the pre-pee interview was an entirely different thing. I wasn’t a fan. Lance wanted to tape ME. Like, Adrian. Not Karla. I think that was part of the reason why the shoots with him were always me, solo. He wanted me being me. Raw and (metaphorically & literally) naked. He videotaped me undressing, and then he videotaped me dressing after the session.
Ironically, there was a protective anonymity when I was naked. But when he taped me with my street clothes on, then he was really taping me, Adrian. Not Karla. There obviously wasn’t anything I could do about it since he was paying, but I didn’t like it. And he wanted me to talk to the camera. A lot.
After a few minutes of chatter, it becomes YOU talking to the camera, not a persona. It’s hard to sustain a character indefinitely, especially without a prepared script. There was really no way to avoid letting myself slip through the cracks. It was disturbing, especially considering that the reason I stopped stripping was the personal interactions.
(Although this was different because the clients at Valentino’s weren’t really interested in hearing about Adrian. They couldn’t have cared less if it was Karla or Candi or Crystal shaking her ass as long as there was an illusion of intimacy, so there was no pressure for real revelation.)
Ironically, the part that had really drained me at Valentino’s wasn’t the act of creating and maintaining a persona, it was hearing about them. I didn’t want to hear about their depressing lives. Now the part that was draining me was hiding myself while pretending to reveal myself.
During my work with Lance, the spotlight got turned on me and my life. Lance did these things called “Open Shirt Interviews.” I sat on the couch (with my shirt open, breasts exposed, but wearing boots and my skirt) while he asked me personal questions. I eventually gave up any pretense of keeping the two worlds separate. It was just too hard to keep making up answers.
For an hour, I answered his questions about my favorite color, my fantasies, my dream house, my hobbies, and exhibitionism. There was no way to answer the questions while leaving myself out. So it ended up being all about ME. Anyone watching this video was going to know more about me than most of the people I dealt with during the day in my “real” life. I could have taken the role playing even farther and made up answers, but that was too much work. So I just put myself out there. Me, Adrian. Karla wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
So, what with these interviews, my new peeing fixation, and the fact that I had now started masturbating to dominatrix fantasies, there was very little separating me from my work. Annoying as the whole actual slave experience might have been, it helped me realize even more about myself and my erotic tendencies. I really did like to dominate, watching men weak and in my power. I got off on having control over them. I enjoyed seeing them desire and need me. It turned me on.
I was developing a wealth of new fantasies and new territories to explore when I finally found a lover who was as willing to experiment as I was. I didn’t like being bored, either in my work or sex life. As soon as things felt safe and easy, I needed to find a way to push them, to keep my adrenaline high. My sex drive and my mind weren’t easily satisfied.
It was a far cry from the girl in high school who never had a date. The one doing homework on Friday nights. The one generally ignored by the opposite sex. The one who had never really known what to do in the bedroom, if she ever happened to end up there with someone else. The one who had to get totally drunk in order to get up on stage that one fateful night when everything changed. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t gone to Valentino’s that time or if Candy hadn’t pressured me to get on stage. I probably wouldn’t be here now. In fact, I was certain of it. And yet, here I was, naked and okay with it.