Friday, 7 November 2014


Oscar is the living embodiment of Lover Boy's 1981 anthem: he works for the weekend. During the week he has a decent job as an assistant manager at Benjamanian, one of those big box carpet stores. It's a pretty good career, given his education consists of being 4 credits shy of a degree in late medieval Icelandic literature. But on the weekend, oh, the weekend. Oscar lives for the weekend. His Friday night routine is sacred. He grills a steak over hot coals. He likes it well-cooked but juicy: Argentinian-style. He accompanies this with a good bottle of heavy French red wine, and then drinks himself into a stupor whilst smoking his pipe and listening to jazz. This week will be a particularly good week. First, it's a lovely, marbled, Delmonico, then, a 2004 St. Julien, and finally, a stack of old Verve 45's he found at a church rummage sale last Saturday. For Oscar, life is very good.

Tuesday, 4 November 2014


From the time she was about 15 Kelcee was always known as "the pretty one" in her circle of acquaintances. Whilst she was never school-smart, she was never dumb, either. She quickly learned that she could get most guys to do what she wanted by sleeping with them, and that she actually liked having sex. Quite a bit. Unfortunately, she also discovered that although sex for favours was in a legal grey zone, sex for money was a no-no. Or was it?

In a move to operate a high-end escort service, Kelcee opened up a "Pornography Academy". When patrons arrived to meet her or one of her girls, they would also be given a disposable camera, and could then document, should they want, their "pornographic coaching session". The matter is now before the courts. During the trial, Kelcee married the senior partner at her defending law firm. She doesn't like him much, but he is extravegantly wealthy. She figures retail-level sex for money may be against the law, but sole-source wholesale contracts still seem to be very legal, indeed.

Sunday, 2 November 2014


Pablo is originally from the small Mexican town of Santo Poco. Raised Catholic, he turned away from the church in his late teens because he found that the veneration of mutliple saints in his small village created cognitive dissonance with the dogma of monotheism. Consequently he left his village, which he increasingly viewed as medieval in mindset, and smuggled himself across the US border in a sanitary napkin delivery truck. Even border agents, he figured, were uneasy around feminine hygiene products.

He re-settled in the San Francisco area, and found himself a job as a janitor in a strip mall with a nail salon. One Saturday, he was begged by the salon owner to help with a nails-for-a-wedding-party emergency. She had accidentally double-booked her salon, and two of her nail stylists were out with food poisoning. It turns out he was very talented in the nails department. He was hired full-time, and now has a steady clientele. His best clients are drag queens. Not only is Pablo an excellent manicurist, and cute, but, more importantly, he never judges. He is living the American dream.