Becoming a Star at the Starlite Motel!

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Changing your plans makes life interesting!

Ah well, Chicago is going to have to enjoy my girlfriend without me this time; due to an unexpected development, I've had to cancel my trip.

I will definitely plan on re-scheduling a little later this spring/summer.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to a delectable visit with some of my Motor City favorites!

Detroit, watch out for the Tabu Express!

Road Trip!! Well, plane trip. (Who cares? We're going to Chicago!)

Ah, spring. The dogwoods bloom, the spring breakers break and in Tabu-land, the snowbirds take flight.

It was wonderful, they say, as they wave from their SUVs, heading back to New York and Minnesota. We'll see you next year!

And as we wipe our tearful eyes, everyone in Florida waves sadly till they're over the horizon of I-95.

Then, we all make a rush for our favorite restaurants and bars, now blissfully tourist-free.

Thank God for those fat-cat snowbirds, for without them our coffers would be lighter. But thank God when they leave, and local life takes back its lazier, sun-dappled pace.

For me-- and my girl Allie, who positively itches with wanderlust, spring's the overture to our own journeys.... and with nothing but stilettos in our suitcases, there's only one thing that could be on our minds.

Foot-long hot dogs. After all, isn't that Chicago is famous for? Oh, wait, that's Coney Island. (I always get those two mixed up!)

No, we adore Chicago with a passion worthy of grand opera. Get us up on Michigan Ave-- ensconced in the silky linens of a 4-star hotel-- waiting breathlessly for our darling midwestern suitors to arrive.... well, life just doesn't get much sweeter.

Seasons always resume their rituals, no matter who's watching. And when we see our calendars inching toward April, we can hardly wait to take it all in.

So if you see two Florida flamingos-- one sun-kissed, one ivory-- positively glowing with genuine delight, please don't hesitate to welcome us "home."

Hollywood will wait.

AWOL for a friend; back to Tabu.

This weekend I had to say a permanent goodbye.

My friend John, a smart, lovable and funny 50-year-old, slipped away into a quiet place after a devastating fight with cancer.

During that fight, his wife, my equally admirable girlfriend, showed me what courage really is. A feisty ex-New Yorker, she never backed down from the challenge of dealing with every aspect of their everyday life; when John quickly became too weak to function, she emerged as even more than she imagined she could be.

Not that I'm painting her as a saint. Plenty of days I got my daily call that started with exasperation; nothing was simple in their last journey together except their love for each other.

And now, that love continues and changes.

Hellos and goodbyes, mourning and rejoicing. There's no getting around that eternal balance.

I love both my friends, and now I'm going to get to show one of them just how much. When life feels diminished by absence, the presence of our friends and family helps fill the abyss.

And for me, re-embracing my inner Tabu is my way of celebrating the continuation of beauty, sensuality and life.

John wouldn't have had it any other way.

Grazie! (I think!)

Today's nomination for International Email of the week: (reproduced verbatim).

if one day you are around the europe what do you think about a good weekend in Italy? i am a beautiful mature man,Luke, of 40 years, lend, equipped, also of savoir-faire and free discretion from engagements, I try one intelligent mrs. that desires one educated and lose interested company. I can accommodate and travel. if it tries what I can offer to you,contact me. I guarantee ospitality, respect and absolutely discretion. I can accommodate you in Lignano Sabbiadoro, or offer to you a timid one week-end to Venice.

i need a photo to remember of you..


Here's an incipient hobbyist in one of the sexiest countries on earth, and he's taking a cyber-stroll down Tabu Lane.

Darling, I'm flattered. But if your pasta isn't better than your English, I'll have to stick with La Dolce Vita here in Florida.

Ciao!

No rest for the wicked?

One of my favorite clients wrote me Friday with a question:

And what will this naughty girl be doing for Easter? How do swingers celebrate Spring-- by getting sprung?

Well, he's a hoot and it was with actual sadness I had to relate that-- once in a rare while-- even this Energizer Bunny has to snuggle up with her eggs and snooze.

After three weekends of marathon eroticism, it's mandatory to re-charge the batteries and come out swinging, as they say.

So it's off to la-la land, nappyville, dream city.... and then back to the exhausting job of being fabulous.

See you on Monday!!

Two for Two! Swing Dates Sizzle!

I have one word for the past 2 Friday nights. Yumm-eeee.

Thanks to the two lovely gentlemen who couldn't wait to raise their "hands" for my new swing club rendez-vous, your little vixen got to show off her favorite club, its sizzling citizens and the naughty-and-nice atmosphere that gets everyone rocking.

In fact, I feel a bit like an evangelist lately-- "Come to me, brothers, and let me show you the way!"

Fortunately, my impulse toward religion stops there... unless you count my recent fantasy fulfillment for one wicked little girlfriend of mine. That evil girl wanted me to tell her all about the bad Catholic schoolgirl at confession. Oh, my-- she was sooo bad that the priest had to come right into her side of the confessional and show her the errors of her ways... sin by sin.

Oh, the depths I'll explore for the sake of some curvy-girl nookie.

But then again, maybe that talent for erotic imagination is what has made me so many delicious friends.

Where the mind can go, the cock and pussy can follow. Just ask the two boys who squired me through the halls of iniquity. They imagined what could happen when you get 300 hot swingers together -- mixed thoroughly with a healthy dose of Tabu-- and the reality of it all.... well, I think it surpassed their wildest wet dreams.

So here I go again today, powdering, silkening, and fine-tuning that sexy spot between my ears for another erotic adventure in Paradise.

Heaven's got nothing better.

Here we go again...

Almost exactly a year ago today, I published the blog I'm reproducing below. Ring a bell?

So please-- don't come to me asking for less screening due to the Spitzer case. I'm not buying into the hysteria, and neither should you. So, from March 28, 2007....

Don't call me Madam! (or, Paranoia Abounds!)

Yesterday I saw one of my regular, mild-mannered fetish clients. All was great until after our session, when he rather nervously asked me if Iwould "remove all traces" of him from my email, cellphone, paper calendar and Rosetta Stone, and never contact him again.

I was a bit stunned and when I asked where this sudden directive came from, he cited the "DC Madam," who was arrested recently for running a high-profile,15-girl prostitution ring for a total of 13 years. The madam in question briefly floated the idea of selling her "43 lbs" of detailed client records (!) to the highest bidder. A federal judge quickly derailed the idea.

My nervous client, neither well-known nor likely to be, envisioned himself the unhappy recipient of media glare if I was ever taken away in cuffs.

Let me tell you what I told him (after assuring him that his very existence would be forever eradicated from my consciousness.)

Women who run large-scale prostitution rings with celebrities and elected officials as clients naturally attract attention from law enforcement and the IRS. Millions of dollars of undeclared income... famous names... and a revolving door of indiscreet "employees" create a target worthy of pursuit and prosecution.

On the other hand.... low-key, tax-paying, individual providers operating out of a single discreet location- no fanfare, no employees, no racketeering-- simply aren't worth the government's attention, time or money.

The DC Madam is facing a host of serious charges which range from pandering to tax evasion, money laundering and more. She's in deep shit.

I, however, am no Madam. And if, to my misfortune, a local vice cop slips through my screening someday and takes me downtown, I'll pay my misdemeanor fine and go home. It won't be fun, but it certainly won't be front page news.

With rising gas prices, hurricane season and new episodes of America's Next Top Model on the horizon, we all have much weightier issues to worry about. So let's get on with the show.

"Swing" into Spring! A sexy new addition to the menu!

If you've ever been intrigued by the sexy, secret world of swinging-- but didn't have the entree or a willing partner to try it out-- well, I have a very important announcement just for you.

Starting now, I'm your guide to a very satisfying Swing into Spring!

Take advantage of my 10-year experience in this lifestyle and get a first-hand understanding of:

• How to "play well with others" (the etiquette and protocols that all swingers share)


• How to approach a potential playmate


• When it's time to go from flirting to f--king

• Why women rule this world and how to win them over

I've had some of the sexiest times in my life at a swing club and it's time you did, too!

Here's how it works. Like a dinner date, a swing date is 4 hours, during which we will enjoy the club's excellent dinner, dancing, flirting and whatever naughtiness we can stir up.

If you're visiting from out of town, I will pick you up at your hotel and your only financial responsibility is my gift and the door fee at the club. (I will supply the membership requirement.) Since all FL swing clubs are BYOB, you choose whether to bring your own alcohol.

So whether you dream of jumping in, watching and learning, or a happy mix of both, you can relax knowing you're in the very experienced hands of a true aficionado.

Before I was Tabu, I was a swinger. Come discover the sensual atmosphere, freedom and fun that helped turn a bad girl into a verrrry bad girl! (And as you know-- very bad is verrry good!)

Sit. Stay. Roll onto me. I learned everything I know about sex from my dog.

As I was stroking my best friend's ears Saturday night,(and yes, my dog was there, too) it struck me how similarly I'd trained both.

My dog waits impatiently as he watches me dabble in debauchery. "Get on with it," his eyes say, as I'm rolling in a tangled mess of sheets, arms and hard breathing. When the bed surface calms to a gentle rocking, he'll launch himself into the middle, hoping for a clear spot to land.

My two (or sometimes three-legged) friends- well, they've perfected the exaggerated eyeroll in lieu of puppy dog eyes. They look around, and when I'm discovered in flagrante delicto, they heave a histrionic sigh and announce, "Well, she's as good as gone for a while." Being human apparently means that they know better than to jump into a mess.

On the other hand, humping a pillow clearly transcends man-animal boundaries.

When I was a yearning little girl, my pillow could be smoothed into the broad shoulders of my heartthrob. And if a little pelvic thrust came into play at a pivotal fantasy moment, well, who would be the wiser? The Dog-King, possessed of a fleeting hormonal urge, frankly hops into position and wildly humps for 20 or 30 seconds... eventually becoming distracted by a passing siren or Shiz-tzu.

It appears we have more in common than not. And so when I observed a pack of well-heeled homo sapiens indulging in that most animalistic of pleasures in my living room Saturday night, I simply had to hand it to those naughty dawgs.

But it was one at time, buster-- one at a time.