Despite frequent requests, I’ve never taken a wrestling session at work.

Not that it is beneath me as a “pro-domme” — please, I do peanut butter — but I am a little girl who knows nothing about wrestling. Also, how could I win against someone twice my size? I lose money for declining these sessions, but I don’t like to lose unfair games. Hurts my pride. And other body parts.

I have “wrestled”, sort of, on one of Kink.com’s websites. And I used my modeling name. I remember the day I showed up to the dungeon with that name:

It’s not very name-like, said the owner. Can’t you pick something else?

I did. What was I going to say? I’m a porn star with visibility? Don’t hurt yourself laughing.

Somewhere out on the Internet, although I am not actively promoting such, people are still making the link between my pro-domme persona and my modeling/porn persona. I know: I can see my Google hits. And once every couple weeks I meet a client who recognizes me as Calico.

Then one of those clients came to see me at the dungeon. He was sweet. He asked (tentatively, perhaps scared he would offend me) if I’d appeared on the sites, as he thought, and I said yes.

“I want you to fuck me like you fuck those girls on Ultimate Surrender.”

Uh, twist my arm?

I put down the wrestling mats and did. Man, could he take it. The challenge brought out the competitive streak in me; I was damned if I’d give up first. By the time I finished there was sweat dripping off my breasts and down my flanks. But I made him beg.

He asked me for my autograph at the end, on a glossy print of myself. A print! Seriously! (My panties, too, but no way was I parting with one of my favorite pairs.)

I told this story a couple times because it was just so awesome and improbable. One friend thought it was great, but the other wasn’t so thrilled. Some guy, for whom this whole woman-demeaning, male-pandering porn-machine churns, gets his wank material fulfilled in the motherfucking flesh by the very same girl. Woohoo, right? You’ve seen it on TV — now see it for yourself!

Was that bad of me? Was I demeaned, cheapened and degraded? I have such a hard time telling when I’m having fun.

He was very happy. And men are people too.

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