Enjoy!
XO Tanya
***
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Classic Video starring Nicole
Click the boxcover to see ordering info for the Electric Video Blue Series starring Nicole!
- XO Tanya
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- XO Tanya
***
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
The Devil and Miss Simmons
I lived in Venice Beach, California as a teenager. Crack dealers and hookers openly peddled their wares, lots of murders happened, and various gangs ruled the streets in what was known as the Oakwood section of Venice. My studio apartment lay just outside that area and cost $600 a month. I went jogging every day, often on the boardwalk tat fronted the beach. One day I tripped on something, struggled to stop myself from falling, but ended up hitting the ground hard. Many people were buzzing around the boardwalk that afternoon and I had just wiped out right in front of a packed sidewalk cafe. It took a few moments for me to regain both my wind and my composure and then I began trying to stand up.
The gorgeous, olive-skinned face of a man framed by long, straight black hair materialized above me. This handsome stranger was smiling and he offered me a hand to get to my feet. I reached for him. As I did so I saw a sickening array of scaly, crimson scabs covering his arms. There were so many of them. Some of the cuts seeped with fresh blood and some looked old and crusty. He brought his face close to mine. He just kept on bleeding as I looked up at him. I bled too. Pieces of gravel from the Venice boardwalk had ended up inside the fresh abrasions on my body. This stunning, dark-skinned, black-haired man stood there with his hand extended towards me and I lay underneath him. I did not see his blood drip into the open cuts on my flesh, but it may as well have. All of a sudden I recoiled from him, skittered backwards, and then jumped up off the Venice asphalt.
The man watched me pull away, felt my roiling emotion, and then he just vanished. I can't describe it better than that. Afterwards I felt guity for jerking away from him and for not being able to disguise my repulsion or fear or whatever it was. It had scared me that he might contaminate me. For years I believed that I had never ever seen him again. Now I know that he never left. He lives within me. Did his blood drip into my open wounds? Did he infect me? No to the first question and yes to the second. He got right into my soul.
I ran for three or four more miles after my fall that day. When I got back to my apartment I looked through a magazine that I had purchased the previous night. It contained photos of beautiful, naked women. I wanted to make a list of the photographers who had shot them since I knew many of them probably worked in Los Angeles. At that point I had not yet begun posing nude for magazines, but I wanted to start. I leafed through the pages of photos and stopped to admire a pictorial of a lovely, raven-haired model. Years later I found out her name was Nicole Simmons. The above photo of her was from the layout I saw that afternoon after my encounter with the bloody, devil-like man. The entire gallery of Nicole now appears at my Fantasy Image Store.
The gorgeous, olive-skinned face of a man framed by long, straight black hair materialized above me. This handsome stranger was smiling and he offered me a hand to get to my feet. I reached for him. As I did so I saw a sickening array of scaly, crimson scabs covering his arms. There were so many of them. Some of the cuts seeped with fresh blood and some looked old and crusty. He brought his face close to mine. He just kept on bleeding as I looked up at him. I bled too. Pieces of gravel from the Venice boardwalk had ended up inside the fresh abrasions on my body. This stunning, dark-skinned, black-haired man stood there with his hand extended towards me and I lay underneath him. I did not see his blood drip into the open cuts on my flesh, but it may as well have. All of a sudden I recoiled from him, skittered backwards, and then jumped up off the Venice asphalt.
The man watched me pull away, felt my roiling emotion, and then he just vanished. I can't describe it better than that. Afterwards I felt guity for jerking away from him and for not being able to disguise my repulsion or fear or whatever it was. It had scared me that he might contaminate me. For years I believed that I had never ever seen him again. Now I know that he never left. He lives within me. Did his blood drip into my open wounds? Did he infect me? No to the first question and yes to the second. He got right into my soul.
I ran for three or four more miles after my fall that day. When I got back to my apartment I looked through a magazine that I had purchased the previous night. It contained photos of beautiful, naked women. I wanted to make a list of the photographers who had shot them since I knew many of them probably worked in Los Angeles. At that point I had not yet begun posing nude for magazines, but I wanted to start. I leafed through the pages of photos and stopped to admire a pictorial of a lovely, raven-haired model. Years later I found out her name was Nicole Simmons. The above photo of her was from the layout I saw that afternoon after my encounter with the bloody, devil-like man. The entire gallery of Nicole now appears at my Fantasy Image Store.
- XXOO Tanya
***
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