This post is going to be about the cost of this whole thing. Below you will find a list of fines I had to pay, and things I had to pay for. Believe me, it’s all there. I kept every piece of paper that looked even remotely important, and I certainly held on to all of my receipts. Not that I necessarily think the system is flawed or crooked, but simple mistakes can certainly happen. I just wanted to be safe and protected.
So here is the list:
Court costs = $358
Application fee for Public Defender = $70
Evaluation = $150
License renewal after 3-month suspension = $105
Victims Panel = $45
U.A.’s (as a part of rehab class) = (3 x $16) for $48
Individual counselor sessions (mandatory) = (2 x $31.50) for $63
Rehab classes = 913 x $42) for $546
And what does that all add up to? $1385.00 That, my friends, is the bare minimum you can pay if you do absolutely everything the right way. Miss a meeting and you will pay more. Show up too late for a class and you will pay again. I got off lucky on the court costs too – I thought I was looking at $648 instead of $358, and I’m lucky I only had to pay the application fee for the public defender, and not for his actual time. The truth is, I didn’t get off so bad in the money department. When I got pulled over for the D.U.I.I. the officer issued me three tickets. Driving without my headlights on (what got me pulled over in the first place) was a $97 fine. The minimum fine for having less than an ounce of marijuana in my possession was $500, and I had less than an ounce in the vehicle. The minimum fine for your first D.U.I.I. is supposed to be $1000, and at least 48-hours in jail. That comes to a minimum of $1597, so I guess I did better than one would expect.
The worst part was sitting through the rehab classes but I’m not going to complain about that again. I went to exactly one A.A. meeting, instead of the thirteen I was supposed to attend, but got away with it by forging some signatures. I’m not a drinker, I don’t need A.A. I haven’t even had a close call since I got the D.U.I.I. a year ago. I can’t even recall the last time MY LOVE and I went out and had a single drink, let alone enough to worry about whether or not we should be driving home. So I feel zero guilt for getting away with not attending those meetings. They had nothing to offer or teach me.
Now that this is done – completely – nothing will really change. I’ve already been out of the rehab class long enough that my pocketbook is breathing a huge sigh of relief. I made phone calls today to make certain that everything was done, that the right people had received my paperwork, and that I would indeed be getting this mark erased from my record soon. Of course, it’ll show that I went through a successful diversion, which pretty much tells anyone that’s looking that I once had a D.U.I.I., but I’m really not worried about my criminal record anymore. I’m not applying for any high-security jobs or trying to get into politics…
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Our fourth day in Seattle, MY LOVE had some business to take care of, so I was left to entertain myself. To kill some time, I did what I normally do – went in search of adult entertainment. Now, during a previous visit we’d learned that two people were not allowed in a booth at the same time, which ruined any fun we intended to have at that moment. So, we gave up. But this time, I was alone, so going into these places would be different.
I started out at Taboo –they have two of these in Portland, Oregon. MY LOVE and I have been to both of their stores before, with good and bad results, but I just wanted to see what the place was like. When I went in, it was small, but packed well with sex toys and videos. The way to the arcade/viewing area was not too obvious, but eventually the “Arcade” sign caught my eye. I walked back to the very small, dirty viewing area and looked around. There were probably a dozen booths, and as I have described before, they do NOT cover the person inside of them completely. You are not allowed complete privacy. It is against the law for two people to be in a booth at the same time, so they hang the doors to the booths about two feet above the ground, and make it so that the head and shoulders of the person inside are also visible to anyone standing outside. The point? So that anyone working there can walk through and make certain there is only one person in a booth. But I’m getting off course…
… I opened a few doors and looked inside – fucking filthy! – and then I went far enough, back in the darkness, that I found three booths with glory holes in them. It was clear that these holes had been made by the customers, through many years of deliberate destruction. They were jagged and messy, or gaping and at the wrong height. On the floor was a pair of underwear that looked too small for anyone over 18 years of age to have been wearing, and the smell in the mostly-enclosed space was pretty bad. I did not stay to sample their videos.
Driving a few blocks away I parked, fed the meter, and walked a couple of blocks in the cold to the Lusty Lady. This is one of the places MY LOVE and I visited on our last trip to Seattle. They have booths where you can see live dancers, instead of watching videos. This was something we both wanted to see, and take advantage of, because it would be exciting and inexpensive to do. Getting a private dance anywhere we’ve lived or visited is quite expensive, especially if you want to get nasty with each other while the dancing is going on. That’s something you can’t do in a strip club, and traditionally porn shops do not have live dancers like this. At least, not behind the peek-a-boo screens and one-way glass. It would be an absolute treat to get some oral attention from MY CUNT while watching a nasty slut dance in front of us. We kind of hoped there would be enough room so that we could fuck, and maybe the dancers would get a show. I can tell you now, there is definitely NOT enough room in one of these booths for two people. There’s barely enough room for one.
I stepped into a booth and fed the machine a couple of dollars. A metal/plastic/aluminum/? screen in front of me rose, and I could see into a wide, mirrored room with several ladies dancing around. I’d chosen a booth with traditional glass, so that I could see the girl and the girl could see me. Even though I’m supposed to be devouring their bodies with my eyes, I often get aroused by a smile, or a lusty glance my way. A good set of tits and a nice, tight body do something too. Watching a woman shove fingers in her orifices is pretty hot as well. Basically, I’m easy to please, as long as the performer doesn’t look bored. Some of these ladies looked very tired, but there was one that was really doing a good job. I watched her press her breasts against the glass and get up so that she could spread her legs in the window for some faceless man. For every window that was two-way (you could see the dancer and the dancer can see you) there were two that were one-way (you could see the dancer but the dancer could not see you). I didn’t see any lights to indicate which booths were occupied, but looking in the mirrors across from me, I could definitely see which two-way mirrored booths were occupied. The dancers did not flock to the booths with faces peering back at them. In fact, they seemed to very slowly make their way to different sections of the room, where they would spend a little time before moving on. My two dollars got me a good glance of the room, and the ladies, and I decided I wanted to see a few more minutes. I stepped out of my booth and headed towards the front to get some change.
Now, I’ve never been in a booth that took anything but dollar bills. I’ve heard of systems set up to accept tokens, but never been in one. Walking towards the front of the store, I saw a change machine, and stopped to slip a five-dollar bill in it. Don’t ask me why, but I was expecting five one-dollar bills to come out of the machine, instead of quarters. I was a bit excited, and a bit stoned I guess. I took the coins to the man at the front of the store and asked if he’d give me five singles for the stack of quarters, but he explained that the machines in the booths accepted them. Surprised, I went back to the viewing area and tried to find an empty booth. The one I’d been in was occupied, but I found one with the one-way glass in it and decided that was good enough. Stepping inside, I began to push quarters into the machine.
What a pain in the ass. The screen slid up, but in order to keep it up I had to keep plugging in quarters. You didn’t get very much time for a quarter, which means I didn’t get very much time with my cock. One hand was on it while the other was trying to blindly feed the coins into the slots. Silly. And when one of them missed the slot and fell to the floor you can bet your ass I didn’t stoop down to pick it up. Yuck! The good part was, I got lucky and found myself in a booth that one of the more enthusiastic dancers was spending some time in front of. She had a nice, soft, natural body and seemed to enjoy watching herself in the mirrors. She turned her back to me and spread her legs, sliding her fingers inside her little pussy. The thing looked used and abused, but it also looked tiny. Tight. When she turned, squatted down, and looked right into the one-way glass, I swore she was looking right at me. It was a neat trick. I only had to look across the room and see that the glass she was squatting in front of was black to know that she couldn’t see me at all. But that look was the thing that put me over the edge. I dumped my load on the floor and then stood there watching for a while afterwards. I thought about taking out my camera and shooting some video, since she couldn’t see me and wouldn’t know, but decided not too. Even without showing her face, that’s just rude.
I don’t know. If I lived in or near Seattle, I could probably make that experience a regular habit. I’d like to learn more about it. Can you communicate with the ladies, and how do you get them to stay by your window when they don’t even know if anyone is on the other side? There were no lights, or anything else visible to me, that I thought was an indicator of whether the booths were empty of occupied. At least, not from the girls’ perspective. Just makes me wonder if it’s all random, and how often they wind up dancing in front of empty rooms? Believe me, if I lived here I’d find out. This was a very cool way to waste an hour of my time. I was tempted to go back when MY LOVE was busy again but I resisted. My loads are for her.
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I haven’t written about love in a while. It’s not that I haven’t been feeling or experiencing it – quite the opposite. And it’s not like some of the trivial things I write about are more important than the love we are sharing, so I’m not certain why I don’t say something more often. Who needs excuses? I’ll just get to writing.
People meet us and ask, “How long have you two been together?” A few months ago we had a meeting with a photographer, to see if all three of us wanted to work together, and that was one of his questions. Thinking for a moment, we realized aloud that it would be three years in September. He seemed to think we were doing good, having made it past the “two year mark”, and although I’m not certain what he meant I was proud to tell him that MY LOVE and I still consider ourselves in the “honeymoon phase”. We say that often, to people we meet, and I am still amazed at the truth in that statement. Neither of us has any reason to lie about feeling this way – we really gain nothing if it’s even a small fib – so I have to respect what is clearly a unique relationship. We are lucky to have met each other, even if this connection is nothing more than a case of two incredibly compatible people managing to get along. This is not something we romanticize - it is something we experience with honesty. And I don’t personally know anyone as lucky as the two of us.
We have both reached that level of comfort that seems to backfire on most couples, and breed a kind of unpleasant familiarity. People start to want time away from each other or they begin to feel trapped. We are quite the opposite. We spend hour after hour, day after day with each other, and still long for one another during the briefest of absences. It’s clear we’re sick and fucked up, and occasionally time apart can really affect us negatively, but for the most part this is a wonderful obsession and dysfunction to be living with. We can look each other in the eye and say, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you” and know that it’s actually true. We are so compatible that it seems more than wishful hoping or fantasizing – it seems very, very real. Possible. Probable. We don’t know many people that live with that kind of certainty - that wake up with it every day. We are beyond lucky…
I am in love with an amazing woman. She is honest, funny, talented, beautiful and loyal, and I am lucky to have found her. We care deeply for one another. We are experiencing something very rare and unique, and neither of us take it for granted. This is truly an extraordinary love!
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We left for Hawaii on the 30th of September and didn’t come back home until the 6th of October. Nine days later we were headed to Los Angeles for a 10-day visit. We began driving on October 16th and didn’t head home until the 26th. We stayed in one place for nearly two weeks – twelve days to be exact – before it was time to drive to Seattle.
We left our Central Oregon home on Sunday morning and made it there in good time. Our accommodations were decent enough but you know by now how picky, and unlucky we are, so I’ll just skip any talk about that. The first few days were not about our business, so MY LOVE was not off shooting with anyone. Seattle was cold and we spent a lot of time in our room, staying warm and watching the damn television. I tell you, we spend so little time looking at it when we’re home that it almost feels naughty when we can just sit there and watch hour after hour. I guess that’s binging?
Next post I will tell you about a little fun I had at an adult establishment while MY LOVE was busy doing important stuff. I visited the Lusty Lady…
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"I am a fan of girls using paper shredders (the bigger, the better). We have also a fanclub for this (no joke).
So do you have access to a paper shredder or have you ever shredded paper? And how big is the shredder and what would be the price for a video?"
I gave this person what I'm sure seemed like an unreasonable quote. The problem with these strange/odd/peculiar fetishes is that they are not widely or wildly popular. Fanclub or not, there probably aren't enough paying perverts out there who would buy a clip like this for it to be worth it to us. What further complicates things is that the content really doesn't fit in with the rest of "what we do". You know, all that brutal, dark, aggressive sex and paper shredding we do...
Once again, I want to stress that we are not making fun of anybody, merely sharing the strangeness with you. Perhaps this sharing will help you other sick weirdos comfortable with your own disgusting, perverted and frightening fantasies. All that aside, I want to know how someone can eroticize shredding paper? I should probably just write the guy who sent us the request but I felt bad enough turning him down. An amusing mystery...
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