Apr 082010
 

Yay!

For those who weren’t jammed the FUCK into the Happy Ending Lounge for In The Flesh NYC on March 18th, your time has come!

I performed one of my favorite stories there. You can read it here and you can watch it below.

Here is the first part…

…and here is the rest!

Enjoy! And thanks to Rachel Kramer Bussel for all of her hard work and awesomesauciness!

Mar 302010
 

Get your tickets now!

YES! I microwaved and updated my shit for a new streamlined version of the original smash hit 4-peater, 69Stories: One Pervert’s Tale!

Some of your fave old school stories, some new even stickier stories, a few years of sobriety and the chance to intimately probe my brain are what’s new!
Read all about it in the official fancy press release and click the postcard above to buy tickets!
Apr 072009
 

Many years ago I took a class called “Writers Who Act.”

69stories

The Infamous Poster from "69Stories: One Pervert's Tale"

The class was taught by the BLOODYFUCKINGAMAZING Anne Galjour. She is one of my greatest inspirations in performance, in theater, and in life, for lots of reasons into which I’ll not go into right now. In the course of this class, I started telling stories about myself, my life, and what made me tick. The story I finally worked up the nerve to tell was about this British guy, you see, and how he and I had a really…er…“unique” connection.

I was afraid at first to talk about it, because standing in front of a room full of people and telling them about your kinky sex life is daunting on a good day. But I did it, and Anne encouraged me.

That story is feline in its multi-lived many-stage incarnations. From the 3 minute piece for an in-class assignment to a 15 minute piece for the end of course showcase to a segment in a production that Crowded Fire mounted a couple of years later, it lived.

In fact, Crowded Fire was born, in part, from that hesitant first steps I took in that class, because it was there I met Rebecca, who would become the founder of Crowded Fire.

I was growing into my identity as a pervert too, as Crowded Fire grew. I found a place where I was accepted for who I was, and CF become my Family, even as the BDSM community was becoming my family.

Then I managed to convince Rebecca that I could pull off a solo show, and that it absolutely would be great to have 69Stories live again. On the upside, solo shows are cheap to produce, so I finally was given the chance.

But doing a show takes money, and so I turned to my kinky tribe. And the BDSM community pulled through. In what is to date our most successful fundraiser, I threw a Dungeon Party and Auction at the now defunct Castlebar here in San Francisco. We raised all of the money to produce the show, and every night…EVERY NIGHT…the show was sold out. Not just with theater people, but Kinky people. You could always tell the pervs…they laughed in strange places.

So much of my life in kink was tied to this early time, where I found my voice as a representative of this outlier community. And I will always be grateful for that.

69Stories has been produced 4 times. I even performed excerpts from it at Kinkfest just a couple of weeks ago. It still lives, amazingly. And might live again. As I grow as a kinkster, the story of my journey in BDSM grows too. Who knows? I might tour that shit one day.

All this is to say that we can sure use your help!

Please check out my appeal here: Adopt Mollena!

It would be great if you could kick in some ducats. Everything…and I mean EVERYTHING helps! As much of my life is devoted to the exploration of BDSM, my heart and soul are rooted in theater, in art, and at Crowded Fire, I have a home for both.

Thank you.

Love

~Mo

Dec 242008
 

 

From 69Stories: One Pervert’s Tale: It was/is an autobiographical telling of bits of my life. None of it is slanderous, libelous, OR untrue These are the facts as I remember them and are retold with joy, and with fond recollection.
Mostly ;-)

FALLING 

 

Falling is something we usually associate with awkwardness, a loss of coordination. Scraped knees, a twisted wrist.

 
How interesting, then, that we refer to the emotional process of discovering intense feelings of affection and adoration to be “falling in love” it implies awkwardness, a loss of control, and imminent danger. I try to avoid it. Who needs it! Complicated mass of conflicting emotional hairballs. Nine times out of ten you can see it coming and take steps to avoid it.

 
But sometimes, the fall comes from no where. Smooth sailing, clear path you’ve gone down a thousand times before and the level floor reaches up and grabs you. There’s no defense against that. No amount of denial, defensiveness or dissembling is going to take the wallop out of that fall.

 
After a series of stumbles and near misses, I’d had enough. I forswore my days of sexual excess, and was firmly committed to keeping myself out of trouble.

 
HE was trouble from the first moment. The first feature of his that I became acquainted with was his ass.

Well, he was playing pool with a group of men at Barney’s Beanery in Hollywood. I was with two girlfriends, Lori and Anne, and we were seated in a booth next to the pool table area. It was cramped. The players had to practically enter the booths to take long table shots. I wasn’t entirely peeved when a fantastic specimen of male posteriorhood was presented to my gaze. Absolutely the finest ass I have ever seen on a white guy. I tapped it with my finger.

Oo! Nice!

Its owner turned, startled, then smiled at me.

 
“Excuse me, but we’re trying to eat over here, do you mind not putting your butt on our table?”

His smile broadened

“Sorry there, love! Hope I didn’t put you out none. Cheers!” his voice lilted with a (South London? Estuary? Slightly South Country?) British accent. My insides trip-hammer imploded.

 
“Oh….aha….no problem….!”

 
SO sue me. I have a thing for British accents.

 
Eventually I worked up the nerve to invite him over to our table. His friends were hollering and applauding as he sat in our booth. Within five minutes I’d learned that He was a musician, was in LA on tour for a week or so, then he was flying up to San Francisco for another week and a half. He also had a girlfriend back home. And he played guitar and sang. I wondered why he felt compelled to tell me he had a girlfriend. I mean, he was only in LA for a week. And we had just met.

Whatever!

 
I asked him where he was going to be performing. He wasn’t sure, so he asked one of the Irish dudes at the other table. The guy pulls out a huge, and I mean fat freaking binder and flips through it…they were at the Shrine Auditorium that Tuesday.

I cracked the fuck up. 
 
“I have never heard of you. The Shrine Auditorium is where they hold, like, the Academy awards and shit.”

 
He explained it was not his gig, he was playing backup for another guy. He asked me if I’d heard of Van Morrison.

 
“Um, yeah I have heard of him. So, you are touring with Van Morrison, right?” I asked him if he could get tickets for my friends and me. He said he didn’t think that would be a problem. Frankly, I had my doubts about the whole story. Furthermore, I will confess to not be being a huge Van Morrison fan. But that didn’t really matter. This wasn’t about anyone but Him and me.

 The evening flew and I found I couldn’t stand to be away from Him. He’d look at me with this sly sort of grin and I’d giggle. He’d touch my arm or knee and I’d sweat. I was out of control. Helpless. He knew it. He felt it and there was nothing to be done to stop it.

 
He invited me back to his hotel, where he and his mates were going to continue partying. I’d have followed him anywhere, but my car was in fucking Pasadena and my girlfriends were less than supportive of my desire to trot off with this stranger. We exchanged numbers and promises to get together the following afternoon…

 
I reached to shake his hand and he laughed, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards him his hands in my hair on either side of my face looking into my eyes and leaning down to kiss me what…now I cant breathe…my entire body…compressed…tight…hot…alive…numb and frozen…

 
He was a really good kisser.

I didn’t sleep. As soon as was feasible in the morning, I called my friends. I rescheduled my therapy appointment. In a panic, I told her what had happened and that I had to …I don’t know. Something was happening.

She was surprisingly calm.

“I’ll be here when you are done, do what you need to go. Call me.”

Huh.

I talked to my Boss…just in case…I needed a few days off.

I wondered what the fuck was happening.  I felt my life split in front of me. I could back out and take the path I was on, to whatever that would be. Or.

Or I could get on board this other ride that plummeted over an edge outside of my vision. I’d never in my life had a clearer moment of choice.

But there wasn’t ever a question.

Not really.
I picked Him up in front of  His Hotel, and we cruised down Melrose Avenue to my favorite bar, the SnakePit. This was, of course, for show. What I really wanted was to turn around and go back to his hotel room immediately, but I had only just committed to curbing my promiscuity! I thought about it.

 
“Look, I’ll feel really slutty if we go right back to your hotel room after our first date. Um…how about this. We can go to two more bars, then it will be like our third date, and then we can fuck. How’s that?”

 
He was amenable, and so off we went. We drove over to The Cat and Fiddle. Listened to some Screamin’ Jay Hawkins on the juke.

A couple rounds later, it was back in to my old ass Honda Accord, Set. I chauffeured Him to The Burgundy room

 It wasn’t long there. We were going to be 86ed if we kept up our lascivious behaviour at the bar.  He didn’t seem to care that people stared. He gazed at me with unnerving clarity and delight. His breath smoky, his smile bright his hands on my ass my hips my waist under my breast my neck…he would lean in and whisper and my entire nervous system would overload and I would be on the brink of orgasm, breath shallow and huffing past parted lips eyes wide and unblinking as I stared back at him trying to catch, in his dark green eyes, a trace of what it was he saw in me.

“God you are so fucking gorgeous….you have no idea what I’m going to do to you, love…”

He was right. I didn’t.  I’m not sure he really knew, either. Not really.

We left Burgundy room and I floored it back to the Sunset Marquis. We ran through the lobby and up to a pair of double French doors which suddenly swung open towards us and we almost collided with a stout short man, a bottle of brandy in one fist and the hand of a girl in the other. My Date smiled and told me he’d like to introduce me to his boss.  My eyes widened slightly.

“Oh! Hi, Mr. Morrison. Van, Van it is then!”

OK, jaded or not, this is Pretty Fucking Cool.

 
It was less fucking cool when we got back up to My Date’s huge suite, and Van decided to stick around for a while. We drank brandy while He and Van did horrific things to the lyrics of  Brown Eyed Girl. I chatted with the girl, who turned out to be the younger sister to the lead singer of the Pogues. She was amused I dug them.  Unlike her brother, she had a beautiful smile.

The minutes stretched hours. I pondered the irony. I mean, here I was in the presence of a musical legend! Lots of people would give their right arm to be here!! And all I could do was wish he’d leave so that I could screw his guitarist. Feh.

 
And I had to pee.

 
By the time I left the luxuriously appointed bathroom, I had decided to just make the best of things and relax a bit…enjoy the ride!

 

 

 

 

 

…to be continued…

 

 

 

Copyright © 1996-2008, Molena L. Williams. All rights reserved. This material is proprietary to MollenaL. Williams, protected under national copyright laws and international copyright treaties, and cannot be reproduced or redistributed other than for personal use. Mollena L. Williams reserves the right to bring legal action for copyright infringement for any unauthorized use. Copyright infringement is also a criminal offense. I am fucking serious. And of top of all that shit, I’ll hex you so bad, you won’t be able to shit straight for the balance of your miserable life. For reealz.
Oct 072008
 
Chains and whips and leather – oh my! Berkeley Bondage, Discipline and Sadomasochism enthusiasts explore how pain and pleasure fuse together to make sex play hurt so good.



Bondage Fans Bond in Berkeley

Local professors, writers, lawyers and doctors by day abandon suits and scrubs for leather and lace at night. The scene is heavy with professionals, because people tend to enter the scene in their 30s – when they have fully discovered their “regular sexual identity,” says Richard, a Berkeley resident who has been active in the bondage scene for about six years and prefers not to use his last name.

“Other than their sexual activities, they are distressingly normal,” he says at a monthly bondage club meeting at a local brewery.

Berkeley bondage groups are very strict about a minimum age of 18. If a minor expresses interest in the groups, they are directed to informational sources and peer groups. The Society of Janus, San Francisco’s premier bondage information base, has links on their Web site, www.soj.org, for minors interested in alternative sexual play.

The bondage community is one of the most wired communities in the world, Richard says. Many people meet potential partners and find local activities on the Internet through discussion groups and message boards. Through networking, S&M newcomers and veterans get connected with local “munches” – casual social events where conversation ranges from the erotic to the everyday.

 Castle Bar in San Francisco is a converted warehouse that holds “dungeon parties” where enthusiasts can have some fun. Dungeon parties, fandangos and play parties allow participants to leave their sexual inhibitions at the door. Revelers come as couples, singles and “triads,” bringing toys, fetishes and expectations of a good time. Participants are tied up, whipped, chained and bound in gauze and leather.

 Nothing is spared when it comes to carrying out the bondage party theme. Party-goers dress in elaborate costumes that bring a sense of adventure. Richard recalls one fandango where the dungeon was staged to look like a “medieval Spanish Inquisition setting” – complete with cages, whipping posts, stocks and restraints.

 While some may feel alcohol and drugs are necessary to leave such inhibitions behind, they will not find any chemical substances at the parties, Richard says.

 The bondage community is a very sober community, he says. Participants need to be in control and aware of their actions in order to guarantee safety. Dungeon monitors walk around carrying gloves and condoms, handing them out to all participants.

 For the most part, the parties are centered around play, not actual sex – most people save the sex for when they get home, says August, “mistress” of Phil, both of whom attended Berkeley’s munch last month.

 “If it’s not consensual, it’s abuse,” Phil says. “If it’s not safe, then it’s being done wrong.”

 August, an upbeat and talkative local hairdresser, says she has been active in the bondage lifestyle for 10 years. Phil and August met at a play party and have been together for eight years.

 “We live the lifestyle 24-7,” August says matter-of-factly. “He is my slave and I am his mistress.”

 It took Madonna’s book “Sex” and her pushing the idea of “erotica” to bring bondage to a more open light, August says.

 “(The book) was so mainstream that people might have taken a look at it and said, ‘Maybe that’s for me and I should see what’s out there,'” August says.

 While some may think of bondage as consisting solely of whips and leather, there is a virtual dictionary of terms that are a “must-know” for enthusiasts. The “dominant” partner wields power and the “submissive” surrenders. The “top” gives or withholds physical sensation and the “bottom” receives or denies it. “Switch partners” move between various roles at will to please their partners.

 Berkeley munch meetings are alive and full of banter. To begin the evening attendees mingle before the actual meeting starts – socializing and ordering dinner. From there, people introduce themselves and their preferences – submissives, dominants, bisexuals, heterosexuals and so on.

 Robert is the founder and host of the Berkeley munch. The munch has been meeting for a little over three years as an opportunity for people to get together, eat and talk.

 “I was turned onto bondage while an undergraduate at Cal,” Robert says. “I think people who like bondage are smarter people. They need more mental stimulation in all areas of their lives – conversation, classes, movies and sex.”

 One of the benefits of bondage, says Robert, is the enhanced communication fostered by partners.

 “This is about whatever you need to be satisfied,” he says. “Sex is a good thing.”

 Charles “The Ruthless” has been involved in the bondage lifestyle for more than 25 years. Along with his activity in S&M relationships, Charles has dabbled with “vanilla” partners. The term vanilla refers to a “June and Ward Cleaver-esque” way of living, says Charles.

 “I’ve been tying up girls since I was six,” says Charles. “It’s something that has always been there. I do it because it’s fun.”

 Flogging for Flowers is one of Charles’ business ventures, along with S&M comedy skits, educational demonstrations and bachelorette parties. He trains people who have never tried S&M how to take a walk on the sexual wild side.

 “It’s a lot of work for me but a lot of fun for them,” Charles says earnestly of the bachelorette parties.

 When it comes to his personal preferences and pleasing his partners, Charles takes his passion very seriously. He asks his partners to fill out a questionnaire that covers everything from fantasies to how much they are willing to explore.

 “Everything I do is done professionally and it all depends on what they want,” Charles says. “Hopefully they enjoy themselves.”

 It was a two-week fling dominated by rough, wild sex that led Mo to seek out a more fulfilling bondage lifestyle. Reading S&M fiction, such as novels by Anne Rice, and chatting with fellow enthusiasts on the Internet opened the door, but was not enough.

 Through munches, Mo met more people and attended more parties, but as a boisterous woman with a desire for submissive sexual roles, she says she found it hard to find partners.

 “It took a while, but I met a top and managed to find a community here,” Mo says happily. “It may sound weird or extreme but I’m just a normal kind of kid.”

 Mo is taking her life story, bondage and all, to the stage this March in her one woman show “69 Stories.”

 “I want to make it accessible for everyone,” Mo says. “It’s fun to be in charge of your sexuality. It’s all about knowing what you want.”