The calendar reads “Fathers’ Day” as I write this, and it gives me “Pa’s” to reflect. (Even on quiet Sunday mornings, approaching rather more serious issues than would be our “usual,” one must always take time out for a proper pun when the opportunity presents itself.) Despite the regular trials and tribulations of everyday life, there are moments when the issue of Family rears its head, forcing us to consider our place in the cosmos. I find this most generally occurs with me on mornings after I have consumed too many “fruity-sorbet vodka” drinks at a barbeque the day before, but that may just be coincidence.
What caught my attention this morning, after an engrossing need to find Excedrin, actually, was my own father’s traditional valediction marking the end of each of our phone calls over the past dozen years or so. “Talk to you later,” he says. “We love you. Take care of yourself. Get a different job.”
That’s my dad. I love him too.
Routinely, I sat down at my keyboard, intending to draw up conditions for a proposed exclusive contract for Anais. Then I was to go about coding the next set of pictures the office prepared for our members, these oddly enough from a scene in My First Porno, a movie starring two additional Risqué clients at the time, Inari Vachs and Kristal Summers. I had some bookkeeping that I needed to get through, a couple of scripts to read to see if any of my girls might fit into them. And my office at home has been crying for a cleaning so long that its throat is hoarse. Then, I started thinking, and (just so you know) that’s never really a good thing.Continue Reading Risque