"Have you seen that movie, Secretary?" She asked, as casually as she could.
Oh, yeah, baby -- you like that? Want some more?
In a terrifically awful rendition of a French maitre d', I confirmed, "But of course!"
Instead of rolling on the floor at my very humorous impression, she stepped closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "It was so... I mean, the part where she was waiting for him – it was kinky, but... but it was so romantic."
Why do people tell me these things?
It's not enough that I know this vivacious woman's not quite vivacious husband, but my mind is perpetually dredging the gutter. In my head, she was waiting and waiting, and her husband... oh! Suddenly, I wanted to ditch the serving towel, and experiment instead in French calamity – running in place, tripping over throw rugs, chandeliers and rubber plants while I made my breakneck escape.
But I didn't.
And not just because I hate running, rather, because on the flipside of a desire to be pure, I am burdened with the ability to comprehend the nucleus behind the lunacy people dump into my eardrums.
"Hmm. Yes. Yes, I suppose it was romantic. Giving yourself that much – that unconventionally – to someone else. Somehow, it would make everything seem so much more important."
Her eyes beamed, "Exactly!"
There's a theory concerning the mating of humans, which goes: There's Someone for Everyone. Impossible though it sounds, the notion is probably on point. Scuttling unnamed about the masses are not just unlikely sorts aroused by the profane or alarmingly vile – there are people aroused by even the mundane.
Some might be surprised to read of the existence of the Sneezing Fetish. The boy toys of allergy-prone girls can attest to the pleasant zing of a well timed cough or sneeze during bedroom festivities. It's multi-pronged, of course, as fetishes are known to be. Beyond the above, obvious benefit, a sneeze presents an unexpected weakness. Picture a consummate alpha female in stilettos and a power suit... chased with a girlish, "ach-OOO!" The same could be thought of untamed machismo, fouled up by a pesky cold. A soft underbelly, delivered with the aloe softness of Kleenex.
So, while everyone else was watching TWELVE ANGRY MEN bicker and bluster, at least a few eagle-eyed viewers took note of Juror No. 10's sneeze and dialogue pertaining to a cold. Male sneeze-o-philes were treated to a wealth of Holly Hunter sniffles in HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS (... and I thought I was being odd for marveling in horror at that puff winter
jacket she was wearing).
Mrs. Peel -- uh.. do you need?
Even back stories of an actor having a cold while filming can get a sneeze enthusiast's mind cranking – such is the case with Gene Kelly's legendry street beat in SINGIN' IN THE RAIN. The eponymous number was an excruciating force of will, as Kelly trudged through being sopping wet for two days, burning throughout with a 103 degree fever. He might have not felt sexy those couple of days, but there are plenty out there who would attest otherwise.
Clearly, breasts and biceps aren't the only entities which heighten a pulse. Certainly, we've all had our amorous imaginations lifted by laughably trivial details while watching a film. A gal might catch her breath when seeing the way Sam Raimi adjusted his bowtie in INDIAN SUMMER, or the rush of relief and consuming love Brendan Hughes's wiry frame expressed as he spied his gal in a tent in HOWLING VI: THE FREAKS. Even a memorable shade of wallpaper might whisk a moviegoer's mind back to a scandalous evening – these anomalies are bound to occur. What intrigues me, though, are the tidbits in which whole groups of moviegoers silently savor, or are possibly even inspired by.
How many cross dressers have blossomed from a steady diet of Bond Girls during their youth? Exuding sex through flimsy layers, bringing lovers to their knees with a smooth crossing of their legs – hell, even if I were a guy, I'd want to be a Bond Girl, too! What might even be more inspiring to future cross dressers is the fact one of the Bond Girls was, actually, born with a penis (though, Caroline Cossey was always a girl at heart).
Speaking of Bond Girls, before Diana Rigg became Mrs. Bond, she was Mrs. Peel – helping television's THE AVENGERS to rack up at least 26 instances of females in bondage. It's easy to imagine a generation of men eager to see painted lips muffled by a white gag watching the show, and then running off to their room to think about the show a little more. Whether British or American (as THE MAN and then GIRL FROM U.N.C.L.E. both racked up the bondage scenes), there's more to tressing up a dame than just the asthetics. Sure, from Jessica Rabbit (ROLLER COASTER RABIT) to Tracy Griffith (THE FIRST POWER), curves embellished in rope is definitely worth more than a lingering glance – but the helpless aspect is just as stimulating. As the lady is doe-eyed and pleading, is it the tormentor or savior who looms over her?
On bondage message boards, scenes of naughty tying stumbled upon in mainstream cinema are exchanged with a nearly insurmountable glee. It's
something to consider, especially during the next viewing of something as asexual as A LIFE LESS ORDINARY.
Boy, some people will wank over anything.
Just as the actual bonds do not represent the entirety of the bondage fetish, bondage isn't all that domination represents. Having one's person manipulated by another has so many connotations. Sex, yes; but for many, sex isn't the focal point. Lynda Carter's prowess with the truth lasso (WONDER WOMAN) isn't so very appreciated by submissive men due to the rope itself. It's what comes after. Tied is good, but tied and rendered powerless – that's where the sugar is. This opens the door for any number of films where, through twisted means, one person orchestrates the actions of another's life. SLEEPAWAY CAMP has more types of fans than one little brain could wrap around. There's an enormous spoiler coming, but since it was released twenty-five years ago, and is a cult classic, I'm going to go ahead and spill:
The idea of a step-mother casually concluding her newly acquired step-son would fit in better if he were a she, and then resolutely acting upon that decision, is a source of much enjoyment for a great many men out there. After all, some men fancy the idea of being a woman – especially if under the guise of the transformation being someone else's decision. Who wants to bear the weight of choices while trying to achieve an orgasm?
In light of all this, I seriously have to wonder what the percentage of aroused fans WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE has. If the nutty step-mother was a hit, certainly being imprisoned in a home, and tortured daily must ring some bells somewhere. Curiously enough, JANE doesn't seem to be mentioned much – but then, who would admit to liking the film for that reason? Even on a fetish forum.
Someone for everyone. Indeed.
Perhaps the most refreshing truth of the 'someone for everyone' theory lies in..... BOXING HELENA. Oh, yes, there's quite a fetish circuit for amputees – and if someone's going to drool over an amputee, let her look like Sherilyn Fenn.
Perhaps I'll be able to one day experience the fortuitous glee amputee fans felt with BOXING HELENA's release – there could be a whole film devoted to an artsy sort of loft, where Justin Theroux paints his days away, while Sam Rockwell practices tap in the basement, and Christian Bale (secretly suffering from skyrocketing summer temperatures) portrays a shirtless handyman....
You know, because I'm so vanilla.
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