I met Erin Yashida while I was shooting male domination and female domination wrestling vids with a heavy foot fetish angle. It was a hot summer, but it couldn’t last. She was gay, but a little in love with me despite herself. It can happen. And far stranger things.
Erin answered my Craigslist ad and after some good email exchanges that said a lot about her eagerness to perform and wrestle asked if we could upgrade from my coffee meet briefing to a dinner date for sushi at her favourite spot on the Danforth. I’d seen her pictures, of her bare feet, and head and shoulders, all I asked any model for. But I had little idea of her body type. Her face was a rounded rectangle with lush features: her lips, her rounded cheeks, her oval eyes so round they were almost circles. She had a gorgeous smile and looked just a little devious.
I arrived second, which I hate. No time to get into character. I’m a normal guy with a weird side. The light pornographer with no nudity. Just a foot, degradation, and bullying and wrestling fetish. No time to get my look in order, my notes on what I wanted to cover: my pitch, model release, et cetera.
“Hi!” She waved at me from her little nook in the corner of a Starbucks at Queen and John. A busy one. The smell of dark coffee was thick in a small express Starbucks with tons of coffee being made all the time. She had chai tea.
She was pleasantly fuller figured, very attractive. She had curvy hips and rounded, toned buttocks that showed easily in her black track pants. She was very fit, looked like she could outsquat most men her age who weight trained. I loved her body immediately. Began to think about wrestling her. Long black wavy hair, big warm excited smile, like she was meeting her cherished uncle. She was twenty-five or so. I was 38. Am 48 now.
In a moment I had a dark roast and sat in the nook opposite her.
“Hi, Erin. Nice to meet you!”
“I’m nervous, but I’m so into this. You have no idea,” she said. Her eyes sparkled.
“That came across in your emails. I wish I could pay you more per hour just on attitude! But you may get all the gigs if we work well together and have fun.”
She wore a white tank top, had tan skin, long wavy black hair, and wore black form-fitting track pants and black runners. A ball cap with a local brewery’s logo on it sat on the table between us.
“I’m going to be your jobber of absolute first choice. I want you to step on me. Make me suck your toes.” She fixed me with her twenty-five-year-old eyes and seduced me entirely. There was lust in her eyes. A great deep lake of it.
“Wow. I’ve never had—”
“I’ve watched your videos you know. Watched and watched them over again. I’m Prescila12 on my credit card statements that you get. I buy any video of you domming men.”
“You’re a fan. My goodness. Never met one in the flesh before.”
Erin winked at me. “You’re so genuine. You’re not even a bit mean.”
“No, I love women. I think they’re better than men in almost every way I value, make better friends, allies, supporters, and, if they would, they’d make better leaders as well.”
Why do this? Test to see if she has a brain? I had a perfectly enthusiastic fan of my fetishes wanting to do a shoot with me. I regretted what I said immediately.
“I actually agree, but I’m gay, so I bring a different perspective than most women. WE call them breeders, but that terms says nothing about them an everything about us I don’t like.”
A brain. And gay. And lusting to suck my toes and wrestle me. Be stood on by me.
She laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“Is it gay women or smart women that astonish you to the point of dropping your lower jaw?” She reached across the tiny circular table and even with her short, muscular arms she was able to take a hold of my cheek between her thumb and index finger, shake it gently and let go leaving my cheek feeling warm. “You’re so cute! Only men have that totally gone, checked-out bottleneck of thinking and reworking assumptions. Because men are arrogant. They relax all their weight onto the picture of the world they trust most, never changing it to reflect anything new they’ve absorbed.”
A brain, indeed.
“I don’t disagree,” I said, rallying and resisting the urge to rub my cheek and examine the realness of the experience. I’d never been seized like that by anyone but my parents when I was little more than a toddler. “But in my experience, women will not lead, not when the advantage of leadership is to be taken, nor when it is handed out. I wish that were not so.”
She regarded me, her stare almost blank, but a sliver of contact with me remained as she took a turn to be set back on her heels by surprise.
“Fascinating. You fascinate me. I want to talk to you about why you give a fuck about female power later, okay? Let’s talk about what we need to talk about to get rolling on these videos.”
“Okay. I’m shooting degradation videos outside while the weather is so good. Probably High Park, full of people, but lots of areas with a little cover if we feel we need it.”
“Why would we need it. No one’s getting naked, right?”
“Well, given that we’ll be taking turns standing on each other, that might alarm passersby in a way that a foot massage that turns into toe sucking at a park bench doesn’t.”
“So what? We wait, the cops show, we tell them we’re making youtube videos for people into trampling, they fuck off. There’s nothing illegal about it.”
She laughed. “You’re doing it again. Spacing out. Stop it.”
“Sorry. You’re a lot to take in all at once for someone of my limited experience.”
“The sadistic, flamboyant Victor Black is shy of witnesses? Lacks the courage of his convictions to keep shooting despite someone calling the cops?”
I agreed with her, but did lack the courage of my convictions and often sought compromise. Lightly travelled, but still public.
“So, the action we’ll be filming—”
“I want crowds of people seeing it live as I take your foot down my throat,” she said, softly. She was no boor about her libertine ways. Charming. I was amazed at how when confronted with a woman telling me just what I want to hear about sex I was mentally on fire with arousal but no erection at all. This was the hottest interview I’d ever had with a model.
“So I’ll be standing on your face, but not nearly full weight. I’ll be leaning on a chair or tree or something. Or the ring ropes, if we shoot in a wrestling ring.”
“Go on,” she said, smiling and leaning in. Her attention sharp and full of anticipation.
There are standard safe activities that you’ve seen in my videos. Standing on bodies, faces, foot on private parts, toe sucking.”
“I want you to treat me like you treat the guys. Really, really rough. Look at me!” She flexed her muscular arms and traced her meaty, toned thighs. “I can handle being treated really roughly. Like you do in you matches against the guys. You look like you’re really punishing them.”
“They want it.”
“So do I! I love being bullied and degraded. Even mildly hurt—bruises, that kind of thing. So do you think you’ll be comfortable standing on my face full weight?”
“I’d have to see. Geez, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that, though I don’t know why I should worry. Your skull is as strong as any man’s.”
“Totally.” She nodded and smiled.
“Okay, we’ll try it and see if you can handle it and for how long. Even a few seconds would be hot as hell and not something I’ve seen on the web anywhere!”
“We’ll make history!” She leaned forward and put up her palm for a high five. I gave her a light press. “I’m going to be famous. The most degraded, walked on, doormat of a jobber in wrestling history!”
“Hey, you sound enthusiastic.
“If you’ll let me, I want to start a new email addy and social media account and start posting about your adventures in the ring! I could even adopt a persona! A shamed jobber wrestler having to make a living for her daughter but getting beaten down every match. Or I could write it candidly, as me, under a pen name. Write about what I’m experiencing. I’ve got to start a blog!”
“That all sounds amazing.”
“And how much are you paying me for this free promotion?”
“Sorry, I got carried away. It was your idea. It sounds great. I’m not assuming you’ll do it for free.”
“Uh-huh.” Her enthusiasm hummed beneath her demeanor of disapproval.
“Look, if you demonstrate you are really interested in this as work, and you get all my fetishes and want to enjoy my small, cozy, but supportive little audience, we can talk about a different arrangement than fifty an hour.” I was getting carried away by this young woman with no experience in marketing or business that I knew of—largely because I thought I’d found a goldmine and also a very sexy partner to work with on my hottest vids yet. A really passionate partner among women models would be new. Only the male models were actually passionate about being walked on.
“Like making me a partner?” She asked, smiling, eyes unblinking.
“Well, yes, I was thinking that. If you were in for equal work. Sure, if you really get my fetishes the way it seems you do and my audience does.”
She reached across the table and took my cheek again almost in the same place. Her soft nail pressed into my skin. She had my favourite kind of nails, protruding a couple of milimeters but filed. She slapped the other side of my face with her other hand, then eased back into her padded seat. I’ve never felt a pleasant slap before. It was, and not in a kinky way. It was sensual. Her palm was feminine, warm, a little moist, and her slap was light, just more sudden and jarring than a hard press. It awakened my body. Perhaps that was her intent.
“I don’t want the work, I just want to perform. And perform and perform. I’m dying to have a small group of people watching me get my ass kicked all over the ring, or throwing away my dignity in public and sucking a man’s big toe in front of a bunch of people recording it and uploading it to YouTube. I really want this. I’m not off my meds.”
“I believe you. I just don’t believe my luck.”
“Sometimes life gives you things. Take me. Somewhere fun I’ve only put a toe in so far. All my lovers just want to play with vibrators and dildos and have their pussy and ass eaten over and over. It’s so vanilla.”
“Ass eating?”
“It’s more common than you think. At least among gay women.”
“Did you do some training after high school? I’m loving firing ahead so quickly with you, but I’d like to know little about you. Is this a good idea for you? You can certainly wear a mask. I recommend it for the long term. Things on the net last forever.”
“I’m a digital native, Mr. Victor Black, unlike you aging gen xers. Ha.”
She smirked at me. Then she poked her finger into my chest. I could feel her delicious nail through my black T-shirt under my linen blazer. “Old man.”
“Didn’t hurt. And 38 still has some life in it. I’ll worry at 48. Are you this comfortable with everyone, or just amateur pornographers, or how are you so at ease?”
She raised her brows, surprised.
“Let me think. Pie chart. Thirty percent my nature, twenty percent sexual chemistry even though I’m gay, twenty-five percent excitement at this crazy fun I’m going to have being walked on and spat on in front of this audience, and twenty-five percent is just that I like you.”
“I like you, too. You’re bracing.”
She just smiled askance at me, at the word I chose. Flattered.
“No pressure then, to be bracing?”
“I’m sure I’ll always find you bracing. As I did in your first email and every one since. As I do now.”
Erin leaned in on her elbows: “You are charming me, My Victor Black. I think I want to be friends with you.”
“I have an opening for one. Let’s see how this works. You could hate this.”
“Not likely. But I haven’t really experienced this. I wrestled in high school, but nothing like the awesome pro wrestling action you film. I loved wrestling growing up.”
“I was going to ask you how much experience you have with making fetish videos, wrestling, acting.”
“I can pull off acting, mostly in pain, I hope. But I think it would be great to feel some real pain to inspire me. Is that okay?”
“We’ll play with it, but sure.” This was a dream that was bound to end soon leaving only an erection and dim memory of a seductive Japanese muscle woman.
“Another coffee? Pretty please?” she asked.
“Awesome. I’ll buy. Want to wait? Digital native? Do some texting?”
“Ha. Yes, I think I will. Younger men. Just FYI.” She winked at me.
While getting coffee my mind teemed with thoughts. Was she always so wild in her choices? I had done a wild thing by putting a mask on and filming myself feeding people my feet and selling clips, writing a blog about it. This was my dark alter ego indulging itself. Otherwise, I ran a tiny department of a college and was a big fantasy/scifi geek with a great girlfriend I was about to leave. Was this Erin’s normal?
I arrived back at the table with her second chai tea and another dark roast. We were both quiet for a moment. Smiling.
Then we both laughed at once.
“Where do we go from where we were?” I asked.
Please read Pt2