A BIT O'MUSLIN

The Beginnings of Sexual Repression in Polite Society…

2012-02-01T00:34:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,

I have the incredible pleasure of introducing a fellow historical romance siren who will not only be giving insight to a topic that beautifully fits my blog but will be doing a signed book giveaway in honor of her incredible debut, SWEET ENEMY. Read her fantastic post, post a question pertaining to her post with your email address and you'll be entered to win. Both US and International may enter. Winners will be picked on Valentine's Day. And seeing that it is the month of love, I'll also throw in a signed copy of FOREVER AND A DAY to a second runner up. Happy Valentine's Day!
Delilah

Thank you so much, Delilah, for havingme. February is very exciting for me this year because my debutRegency, Sweet Enemy, is being released on February 7^th. I can’t think of a better place to kick of my month than visitingA Bit O’ Muslin!

RT Book Reviews gave Sweet Enemy4 stars, saying, “In the first in the Veiled Seduction series,newcomer Snow makes a mark on the genre. Her characters may be 18thcentury, but their sensibilities are modern. The plot, with its tingeof mystery, matchmaking and a bit of mayhem, will warm readers’hearts.”

When I first read that description, Ithought “Hell, yes, my characters have modern sensibilities! Myheroines actually enjoy sex, in the daytime, with theirclothes off, and in positions other than missionary!” Because weall know that our unfortunate sisters of centuries gone by wererestricted and oppressed when it came to expressing and enjoyingtheir sexuality. Think chastity belts…think dresses that coveredeven one’s ankles so as not to incite men’s lust…think ofmothers advising their soon-to-be-married daughters to “close youreyes and think of England.” If our poor characters were trulywomen of their time, they would be married off as virtual broodmaresand tupped quite politely, often in the dark without even having toremove their night rails, while their husbands saved the fun stufffor their mistresses…at least in Polite Society. And what funwould that be to read about???

But it wasn’t always that way. Infact, the prudery, repression and social restrictions that begantowards the end of the Regency period and that marked the Victorianperiod are vastly different than how sex, and the woman’s role init, was viewed before then. And you may be surprised at one theoryof how and why it all came about.

Prior to the 17th century, women’sand men’s bodies were seen as virtually the same. This “one-sexmodel” theory basically stated that a woman’s reproductive organswere the same as a man’s, only internal whereas a man’s wasexternal. It was also thought that both men and women produced seedcrucial for conception, so both male and female ejaculation wasrequired to produce a child.

Now, the scientist in me screams, “Howcould they have thought something so ridiculous? Surely some womanwho turned up pregnant without having orgasmed would have decriedthis, LOUDLY!” But that’s not what’s important in thisdiscussion. The really interesting thing to take from this time isthat a woman’s sexual pleasure was considered vital…crucial,even, to the survival of our species. Women were seen, and accepted,as sexual beings equal with men, at least in the bedroom. Tohave a lusty, voracious wife was a positive thing.

So what changed?

Londa Shiebinger, of StanfordUniversity, who specializes in the relationship between gender andscience throughout history, would argue that it waspolitics—specifically, battles over women’s rights. If the“one-sex” model was allowed to stand, and women were biologicallyequal to men, why should they not have the same rights as men? Well,you can see what a problem that might present—at least from themale perspective. So a push to have women and men defined asopposite sexes began.

Ms. Schiebinger argues “Naturalrights could be countered only by proof of natural inequalities. There were endless new struggles for power and position in theenormously enlarged public sphere of the 18^th andparticularly 19^th centuries: between and among women andmen, and between feminists and anti-feminists.”

So the “one-sex model” wasredefined to a two-sex model, with women and men no longer variationsof the same sex. Differences were stressed. Gender roles weredefined. And women came out on the losing end.

By the late 18^th century,the female orgasm was relegated to unnecessary (the bastards!), andthings went downhill for us sexually from there. Passion, lust anddesire were discouraged in young ladies, to be avoided lest shebecome a loose or fallen woman—at least until the modern sexualrevolution, that is.

So I say, yes, my characters have modern sensibilities—or at least“pre-18^th century sensibilities”! I can promise youthat Liliana, the heroine of Sweet Enemy, has very “pre-18^thcentury sensibilities”. A scientist herself, she also has a lovefor experimentation. In fact, come to think of it, I don’t thinkshe and Geoffrey try the missionary position even once in the book. And the Earl, for his part, is also a man outside of his time—notonly does he support Liliana’s work and encourage her to use herbrilliant mind, he is thrilled to have a lusty, voracious wife. Andthat, I hope, you will have great fun reading about!

Beakers and ball gowns don't mix, sowhen a lady chemist goes undercover as a husband hunter toinvestigate the earl whose family she thinks may have murdered herfather, romance isn't part of her formula. But it only takes onekiss to start a reaction she can't control.

"Historical intrigue andheart-pounding passion make Sweet Enemy a great read. Romancefans will love it." ~#1NYT Bestselling Author JULIE GARWOOD

Available wherever books are sold on February 7, 2012. Find out moreat www.HeatherSnowBooks.com

Heather Snow is ahistorical romance author with a degree in Chemistrywho discovered she much preferred creating chemistry on thepage, rather than in the lab. She is forever trying to wrangle herleft and right brain to work together (some days with more successthan others!), but if her two sides had to duke it out, left wouldwin every time—which can be a creative challenge. Luckily, sheloves challenges…she just goes about solving them analytically. Heather lives in the Midwest with her husband, two rambunctious boys and one very put upon cat. She sincerely hopes you find her stories have just the right chemistry...

Pleasevisit her at www.HeatherSnowBooks.com,on Facebook www.facebook.com/authorheathersnowor on Twitter www.twitter.com/HeatherSnowRW

Eugenics Part 2

2012-01-01T15:49:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,

Happy New Year! 2012 makes me realize how far we as a civilization have come. Um...for the most part anyway. Heh. This month, I'll be delving into Part 2 of Eugenics. And what better way to delve into our 1919 book than with a diagram that asks WHAT WILL HER FUTURE BE?

Good question for all of us girls.

The diagram shows two paths. At the top we have a bright little girl who represents thousands of girls back in the day. Happy, loving and cheerful....BUT....if not properly "trained" this bright little girl may follow the course picture to the left. At 15, "in the company of boys of questionable character; at twenty, modesty and self-respect lost due to said company; at 26, immoral and an outcast from home and society; and at forty, (love this!), prematurely old, with life wrecked, poverty and wretchedness her lot."

Okay, okay, so maybe I should ease off on all the sexist stances in this book and see where we could find something more engagingly positive. *Paging through* Diseases Peculiar to Men. Hm. THAT sounds engagingly positive. Let's dig in.

MEN SHOULD KNOW -- "There are certain derangements and diseases peculiar to the male sex." (Us women already knew this. Smirk.)

SPERMATORRHOEA (That doesn't sound good...It sounds like sperm is leaking out of one's ass) -- "Exceedingly disastrous in its effects upon the mind and most destructive on the body. Seminal emissions occur during sleep." (Ah. Referring to what we know today as being Wet Dreams)

A VERY RARE DISEASE -- "Spermatorrhoea itself is a VERY RARE disease, although it is undoubtedly a very serious one when it occurs,"

WHAT BRINGS IT ABOUT? -- "Self-abuse." (Ha) "For Medical treatment of Spermatorrhoea, see Medical Department of this book."

*Paging through quickly to find medical Department of this book*

PRESCRIPTIONS -- (Holy monkeys! There are actually listed self-drugging prescriptions in this book. Cooooooool) Hm. Can't find the Medical Treatment for Spermateorrhoea. Dang it. But there is a Prescription for Diarrhea. Same thing, right? Just leaking from a different hole. Prescription is as follows:

No. 16

Diarrhea Remedy

Tincture Rhubarb, 1 ounce.

Tincture Jamaica Ginger, 1/2 ounce.

Tincture Catechu, 1/2/ ounce.

Lime-water, 1 ounce.

Paragoric, 1 ounce.

Dose: One teaspoonful every time the bowels move.

Oh, now wait. I just found a prescription for Impotence, sexual debility, gleet and self abuse. Awesome.

No. 28

Impotence, sexual debility, gleet and self-abuse

Tincture Gelsemii, 1 1/2 drachms.

Tincture Belladonna, 2 drachms. (Omgosh, I looked it up and its Deadly Night Shade....NICE)

Brom. Potassi, 4 drachms.

Aqua Destill. q. s. 2 ounces.

Dose: Teaspoonful three times a day. See that bowels are not constipated.

I don't know what half this shit is, do you? And people were chugging this stuff? No wonder they didn't live long. And oh! I looooove this one. It's for earaches. Mix 1 ounce olive oil and 20 drops of LAUDANUM. Nothing like opium to knock you out for a few days. But of course your freakin ear ache will go away! Everything will when you're doped up. Duh.

Okay, time to move away from the drug section before I get arrested.

Let's go back to the section known as THE SOCIAL EVIL. That looks good.

"It is computed that 30,000 males are daily infected with venereal diseases in the United States." (I agree venereal disease must have been spawning left and right. But 30,000 a day? Every last man would have been diseased by the end of one year...Was it upped to create paranoia? Note to self: there is no source quoted for this statistic. Hmmmmm). Now wait. Here's more of a real stat. "In the public institutions of New York City about 10,000 cases of venereal disease are treated annually." Youch. Those are the ones that stepped forward, mind you. Of course these were the days when condoms were still being REUSED.

And on that note....HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! LOL.

In honor of the New Year and that I have a new book out that is kicking off a new series, I will be giving away one signed copy of FOREVER AND A DAY to one lucky commenter who posts their favorite "drink." (legal or not). Be sure to post your email address with your comment. Winner will be chosen by January 15th and contacted directly via email.

Much love and until next month,

Delilah Marvelle

Eugenics Part 1

2011-12-01T10:47:00.001-08:00

My dearest Readers,
It always fascinates me to come across books that reflect the prudery that influenced an entire generation. And we're not talking all that long ago, either. A friend of mine was so gloriously kind as to gift me with a fabulous book she had come across in her attic that was printed in 1919. It's called EUGENICS or Nature's Secrets Revealed, The Scientific Knowledge of The Laws of Sex and Heredity.

Let me start with this disclaimer: Ha. The only thing revealed in this book is the notion that sex is still a four letter word and that women have no rights back in 1919. I will emphasize that this book was published not even a hundred years ago. Scary. And needless to say, we're going to dissect this sucker by giving you up close and personal cuts from the book itself. I've decided to break this post into two parts because there's just WAY too much to share of this 500 page book. Yes. 500 pages of skirting around the issue, lol...

Topics explored and quoted with snide commentaries by Yours Truly:

BAD BOOKS: One half of the youth in our prisons and houses of corrections started their evil careers by reading bad books, or at best, worthless novels. (God save those reading my books...) These books are the nicotine and alcohol of literature. They poison, and burn, and blast the head and heart as surely as their cousins do the stomach.

RUINED BY BAD BOOKS: An eighteen-year-old girl suspected of being the writer of threatening letters received by the Sunday School Literature publisher, and other persons of the city, on being arrested and tried, confessed that it had been the reading of bad books that led her into the crime. No one can estimate the amount of crime and lawlessness that is directly traceable to the dime novel and other pernicious literature. (Oh, yes. I'm going to hell and guess what? So are you!).

Bad Pictures: Bad reading burns deeper than does filthy conversation, and bad pictures, perhaps make deeper scars than do bad books. Both burn very deeply into the souls of boys and girls, young men and young women. Dr. Leonard, a leading divine, tells of the dreadful effects of foul pictures shown him by a Germany shoemaker as a boy. (sounds like German shoemaker was a perve and it had nothing to do with f*cking pictures....) Dr. Leonard, like thousands of other pure men, would give his good right arm if these vile pictures could be forgotten. (Sadly, it sounds like he was sexually abused as a boy and it's being blamed on pornography).

Characteristics of Woman: There is beauty in the helplessness of a woman. (Nice) The clinging trust (or stupidity) which searches for extraneous support is graceful and touching. Timidity is the attribute of her sex, but to herself it is not without its dangers, its inconveniences and its sufferings. Her first effort at comparative freedom is bitter enough, for the delicate mind shrinks from every unaccustomed contact. The secret of her weakness is hidden in the depths of her own bosom (Note: this man was written by a man. Surprise, surprise. Delilah would also like to note that there was no page found on the characteristics of a man...)

A Sterile Marriage: I will describe one more case, in which the two parties were perfectly neutral to each other, and therefore sterile and childless. (This is in 1919, when functions and sterility were, in fact, understood...talk about bad books) A man spoke o me one day and said, "I would like to talk with you." He asked me to explain the grounds of my teaching, which I did as I have done in this article. He then said, "How would it be with me in case I should have married a wife who was tall and slender, with snapping black eyes?" (Sounds like he thinks he married the wrong woman). He himself was tall, say five feet eleven inches. We had been speaking of Napoleon and Josephine, and why they were childless together and I went on to show him that substantially the same conditions existed in his case, that he and his wife were so closely alike as to be neutral to each other and therefore sterile and childless. He told me they had been married fourteen years and had never had a child, and that he had no idea why, but now he could see that the case was the same with them as with Napoleon and Josephine. (Talk about a REAL Napoleon complex...) It was plain to see that he had married a woman he had over idolized and so had formed a strictly neutral marriage. (WTF).

Mental Effect of Sex Ignorance: In his investigations of the asylums of one nation, Dr. Pique claims that he found that 82% of all cases of insanity among females and 78% among males, involved sexual issues and that early sex instruction would have wholly prevent many cases and would have postponed the mental breakdown. (Um, yeah. Notice how the insanity percentage of women is higher. Hm)

Effects of Sexual Excitement on Man: In a man, if spooning is persisted in, it leads to sexual excitement. This causes a surplus of energy to be secreted. The body can retain and use only a normal quantity of this energy. This surplus will be dissipated through involuntary losses, the secret vice (he's referring to masturbation) or prostitution. If spooning is continued for a few months or years, he will suffer from varicosed veins and varicocele (A widening of the veins that holds the testicles). He may become temporarily or permanently impotent or sterile. (1919 people)

Effects of Sexual Excitement on Women (oh, this is going to be good!): Frequent excitement leads to ovarian troubles, leucorrhoea (vaginal discharge), or whites, corresponding to sexual weakness in the male. The eyes that once glowed with lustre will become pale and sunken (yeah, if you do it every two minutes and get no sleep!). The cheeks once plump, ruddy and rosy with health will become thin and faded. One or many more other troubles may follow. With the kindest interest in you and yours, believe me, sincerely your friend, T.W.S. (This dude actually wouldn't even use his real name, only initials. Snort.)

What fascinates this here girl is that this sex book does in fact use pictures. Only...they are covered.
This particular picture discusses the Correct Form And Proportions Of Male And Female. And goes on and on about the beauty of the body but dang them, there's no picture OF the body...

The misconceptions that are own grandparents and their parents were born into is astounding and even more so, knowing that this wasn't that long ago. Some of these people are still walking around today. Or should I saw hobbling around...that said, I haven't even made a dent in this book! It's very sexist and I'm struggling not to rip pages....God do I ever feel blessed to have been born in the era I have been born in, because I would have been a slut and a whore of the worst sort, reading BAD BOOKS and having ovarian complications...

Until Next time, Much love to you and your ovaries,
Delilah Marvelle

Roman Wife or Roman Whore?

2011-11-01T11:59:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
There is so much to cover when it comes to Rome and their naughty history, I could spend all day and night typing up a fifty page blog post. But because I don't want your eyes rolling to the back of your head, I'm going to actually showcase what I think deserves showcasing. And believe me...it's GOOD.

As many of you already know, Rome was a crazy place to live in and have sex in. And because it was crazy, many laws were put into place to put people into place. (heh. good luck with that, Caesar). Married men in Rome could have sex with whoever the hell they wanted to. Widows, Slaves, Prostitutes, and anything on four legs (you think I'm kidding?). The men of Rome had it made. They could have sex with everyone, including their wives.

Oh, now wait...not everyone. They couldn't have sex with virgins and other people's wives. Why? Strict adultery laws (which I'm sure the men grumbled about, especially when they were eyeing their neighbor's hot wife laying out the pottery by the door.) These "strict" adultery laws, however, didn't irk the men at all, given they were screwing everything else. These laws actually slammed the wives hard (pun intended). Because unlike the husband who could stick it in anything except other wives and virgins, a married woman wasn't allowed ANY sex outside of her husband. Because the law itself was written as such that it was a CRIME to have sex with a married woman. Not a married man. Huh. Wonder who wrote THAT law? If an adulteress was caught having sex outside marriage, the punishment was the loss of all her property (including her children) and exile.

Oh, but now we get to the good part. You think Roman wives took this laying down? *Smirk* Hell, no. They were a lot smarter than the Roman men gave them credit for and they found their glorious little loophole in another Roman law they bent in their favor so they could get themselves a little somethin' somethin' without losing everything.Ancient Roman law was written as such that any woman registered as a prostitute (because it was considered a very legal profession) could NOT be punished for any sex acts. Including that of adultery. Because hey. A job was a job.

Men wanted the best of both worlds and wanted prostitution legal so they could do what their wives couldn't do. But you guessed it, the wives beat their husbands at their own game. They just registered themselves as prostitutes and got around the law in a bow worthy way. Believe it or not, there were many wealthy and high profile families in Rome which had mothers and grandmothers alike registered as....you got it...prostitutes.Roman Suetonius (c. 69-c. 140 C.E) went on record to complain about this loophole to his fellow Roman men. He said, "Married women from well-known families are registering as prostitutes. They are escaping punishment for their adulteries by renouncing the privileges of their rank in society." Well, now. There you have it. Women *are* smarter than men, after all.

I hope you enjoyed this bit of naughty history and until next time,
Much love to you,
Delilah Marvelle

Women and brothels, oh my!

2011-09-30T23:43:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

Ah, the good old days of brothels. They went by my names. How many? Let me count the ways and the years the terms came into existence. Stew (1362), Bawdy House (1552), Leaping House (1596), Bagnio (1624), A Place of SixPenny Sinfullness (a mouthful that came to be in the 17th century), Nunnery (late 17th century), Ladies College, House of Ill Repute, House of Ill Fame, House of Evil Fame and the ever creative The Naughty House (all terms which came into existence in the 18th century). And crazy though it is, I could go on...

Unlike the history of street prostitutes, brothels were well documented for us to study because they were run like businesses (and WERE businesses) and had accounts and kept books that listed EVERYTHING. So how about we have some fun and dig into this naughty bit of history?

In Covent Garden, in 1752, a certain Mrs. Haddock died leaving behind a brothel empire, one of the most lavish ones to have ever been known in London. The fixtures and fittings alone were worth several hundreds pounds, estimated to be worth THOUSANDS in today's market. Her brothel had 32 beds and 14 dining tables (nothing like eating you know what....snort). The contents of the brothel's wine cellar were about 165 pounds worth (about $12,000 today). And the silverware was said to be worth three times the cellar.

In a brothel, be it lower class or higher class, there was always a woman in charge of the prostitutes and establishment itself. Men vanished from the brothel trade (meaning owning it), toward the late 1600's for reasons having to do with the fact that women knew what men wanted as opposed to men knowing what men wanted.

I'll be touching on the upper scale brothels given they involved more and offered more. Women who started these upper scale brothels knew that men liked "exclusivity" and seized on using the idea. A certain Mrs. Goadby on Marlborough Street was one of them. She hired only the most beautiful women and physicals for all of her women on a weekly basis to ensure they were clean. If any of them had minor problems, like pubic lice, it was treated (by shaving) and the girl was rested until she was ready to go again. Anything more serious (like syphilis) and the girl was instantly booted. It was all about ensuring a good reputation and that her girls were clean. She sought to ensure it so much that she supplied her customers with "Mrs. Phillips' Fames New Engines.' (Condoms). The woman also sold dildos to gents and the best French food and wine there was to offer, whilst dressing all of the women in the latest Parisian fashions.

Alcohol was forbidden to her girls, except for sips with guests, and all of them were put on a regiment of drinking milk to ensure good skin and hair (can you imagine if you were lactose intolerant?). The hopping hours of a luxury brothel was during the hours after the theatres closed in London and a set price was put on admission itself so you wouldn't get just anybody walking through the door. The doors and the legs of these women were open 7 days a week. Yes, even on Sunday. ESPECIALLY on Sunday given that music and card playing was prohibited and all the theatres were closed. That meant men had more time on their hands and Sunday was usually their busiest day. Ha.

So how did a man go about getting in? First, he paid whatever the admission price was. The moment he walked through the door, he'd be handed a scented silk handkerchief that was his "marker." He would hold onto it while he settled in and checked out the inventory. When he made a decision, he would hand the handkerchief to his choice. Mrs. Goadby apparently allowed each girl to deny up to two handkerchief a night out of respect for them (impressive). After that, she was screwed. Quite literally. Heh. Once a girl accepted said handkerchief, it wasn't skip and hop off to bed quite yet. She became that gent's "partner" for the entire evening. She would dance and dine and entertain him, both of them getting to know each other (this is what separated the upper class brothels from the lower ones where it was just in and out).

The brothel itself would have been lavishly decorated. Many bedchambers had themes and mirrors located both on the ceiling and around the room so the gent could watch himself "doing it." Any money or gifts offered weren't offered directly to the girls themselves. They went straight to good old Mrs. Goadby. Though the actual percentage cut isn't recorded, most likely, the girls got half or way less, as even the best Madams were penny-pinching bitches.

To give you an example as to the frequency of certain patrons and I'm quoting from MADAMS by Fergus Linnan: "A certain Lord L____ was known to frequent on Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and always sought not one but TWO ladies for each and every single one of those nights." Talk about virile. And expensive.

In a brothel of any scale, be it exclusive or dirt poor, a whore was expected to pay out a lot from her earnings, usually keeping her locked in with the brothel she was working for. Here is a list of the things they had to pay for our of their own pockets: board and lodging, gowns, corsets, shoes, petticoats, hats, ribbons, hair pins, stockings, tooth powder, brushes. Basically anything that was known as upkeep. A woman might have earned 5 pounds and a few shillings for the week and quite literally pay out 5 pounds for all of the above items, leaving her with only a few shillings. Most of these women waited and hoped for certain patrons who would sponsor them. Basically, make them mistresses. When that happened, a gent usually had to pay the Madam a good pound given that he was taking one of the girls out of circulation.

Needless to say, these brothels offered a man a variety of pleasures, no matter their pleasures. Certain girls would even have known specialties. For instance, did you know that good old King George IV absolutely LOVED having his anus tortured? And you better believe there were girls who specialized in said torture. God only knows what really went on in those brothels, but I will say, I would hate to have a job where my finger would be up some guy's dirty ass all night. Snort. Aren't you lucky you weren't whoring yourself back in those days? At least today people bathe. Or at least...some do. Gotta love history. Anus torturing and all.

Until next time and much love to you,

Delilah Marvelle

Tijuana Bibles

2011-08-31T22:47:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

Every month, I delight in the possibility that you might walk away from this blog tickled and astounded by the underbelly of the past. And you had best believe I intend to tickle and astound. Tijuana Bibles. Have you heard of them? If you have, YOU are one bad ass underbelly historian and I'd like to shake your dirty little hand because this is one history that is as muddled and fascinating as it gets. I was fortunate enough to get an up close look at these suckers at none other than the Museum of Sex itself. I've heard of them prior to visiting the museum, but never actually got to see them in person, so it really was a treat and one I'm sharing with you.

So...Tijuana Bibles. They weren't REALLY bibles. As you might have guessed given that it is getting its own post on my blog. The origin of the name itself is actually unknown. Some say it was a jab on the vices of Border Mexican towns and others say it was used merely to throw off the authorities. Either way, these Tijuana Bibles have quite the naughty history. Tijuana bibles were also called jo-jo books, fuck books (which best describes them), blusies, gray-backs, and eight pagers, to name a few. I should probably note that these were American in origin.

So what were they? It was a creative form of incredibly artistic pornography. They were explicit, hand drawn CARTOON booklets stapled together in a convenient "pocket" size. They made their debut in the 1920's but really exploded in the Depression Era of the 1930's when cartoonists were looking to make a living just like everyone else. Though they altogether petered off in popularity by the 50's, these dirty little booklets consisted of cartoons that created "a story" involving sex. They were sold in school yards (they are cartoons, after all!!), tobacco shops (under the counter), back alleys (with the booze) and out of the trunks of cars (with the booze). They were collected like baseball cards and traded and shared (and shared and shared).

What made these popular? They were without any doubt funny as freakin hell (humor during the depression went a looooong way) and more importantly, featured popular comic strip cartoons, celebrities of the era, and politicians in every dang sexual position known to man and woman (and animal). You get to page through Minnie and Mickey Mouse's adventures of having rowdy rodent sex. Or Clark Gable using his ears to make a woman scream. Or my favorite (below), Donald Duck in all his cocky glory. Puts his character in a whole new light, doesn't it?

I bet you always dreamed about seeing Popeye....well...pop an eye. And believe me, he does. Right along with us!

Ever wonder where Dick Tracy got his name? Oh, yeah, he EARNS his name in these suckers. As for good old Dagwood? Well...he's just got wood. And Snow White? She DOES all seven drawfs in style. Setting aside the dirty details, the drawings in and of themselves were actually done with a quality that made these even more popular.

Now despite its popularity, all of the booklets themselves were drawn and printed anonymously due to all the indecency laws in the united states (which weren't lifted until the 1960's). Shipments were occasionally seized by authorities but with no source and no names, it was very difficult for them to press charges against anyone. Fascinatingly enough, the cartoonists behind the Tijuana Bibles have never stepped forth with their names, even long after bans were lifted and to this day, identification of the creators are done based off of the styling of the cartoon itself.

Wesley Morse, the creator of Bazooka Joe (yes, the bubble gum cartoons!), was believed to have been one of many cartoonists who drew anonymously during a time when there was no work. Not much more is known.

In the end, what is utterly fascinating about the depression era itself was the people's desperate need for escapism given the hardships. That need is what created the booming film industry. And that need is what created this titillating form of pornography that took tongue and cheek to a whole new level known as Tijuana Bibles. So now that you know all about Tijuana Bibles, I suggest you keep your eyes open. Because who knows? Maybe your grandma or your grandpa have some of these puppies stashed up in the attic somewhere. Or better yet, maybe your grandma and your grandpa are STILL paging through these suckers, chuckling and tickling each other under the covers as they make use of it. All I do know is that the good old days were exactly that...good. Gotta love history.

Until next time,

Much love to you,

Delilah Marvelle

Pretty Women of Paris Exposed

2011-08-01T00:10:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

As I had promised in last month's post, I had made an appointment in New York City to view a very special item which I had learned about through Tony Perrottet's book, "The Sinner's Grand Tour." Most of you are probably thinking that I would be inspecting a dildo or a super old condom. Not so, my friends. I'm more refined in nature than you think. Hahaha (so says the kettle that is black...). That said, I'll stop being a tease.

In 1883, a 200 page "guide" known as THE PRETTY WOMEN OF PARIS was printed in Paris by an unknown gentleman. Many believe it was actually a British gentleman living in Paris given his exceptionally good usage of the English language. It was a guide that allowed any man who possessed it to have the address and name of all the women in Paris who would willingly give it up for the almighty French Franc. Meaning it was a guide to all the whores and courtesans and bordellos in Paris. Each name and address came with detailed descriptions about her physical appearance and her "specialty." But it included far, far more than just "She likes to fuck guys and you can find her here and pay her this." There's actually a lot of personal information pertaining to her life that gives us glimpses unlike anything we'll ever see.

Does any of this sound familiar? It should be. If you've been a devoted follower of my blog, you might remember that I did a post about a very similar guide that was rather popular with the masses in England back in 1757 and was published yearly until it was shut down by the government in 1795. Click HERE to refresh your little memory.

Like most pornographic material in the Victorian era, THE PRETTY WOMEN OF PARIS was published "privately" in 1883 (which means this person would have gotten tossed into jail for printing this in any other way). There were only 169 copies made. Of those 169 copies, only 3 of the 169 remain in the world today. One is in the British Library, one is in private hands (which means one less copy the world will ever see), and one in the New York City Library.

Imagine my excitement knowing I was going to be just BLOCKS from the New York City Library where this sucker was housed. Prior to flying to New York City for the Annual Romance Writer's of America conference, I made an appointment with the rare book room to see it. I had scheduled it ahead of time, because they require at least four days notice. They ultimately decide whether or not they will even let you see the book. Fortunately, they didn't think I'd eat the book.

Now before I get into my incredible five hour experience of "touching" and "looking" and "reading" this utterly fascinating historical artifact, let me delve into its history which will set up how truly unique and historically important this book is.

In Paris, back in Napoleon's day, prostitution was "legal." Meaning, you had to be registered with the Police, pay your taxes and allow for twice weekly examinations (because once a week wasn't enough, right?). Napoleon wanted to ensure that venereal disease didn't spread and felt that by making it public while having records of the women doing it, the industry and disease could be controlled more. And boy if he sure as hell wasn't on to something. Many Brits flocked to Paris for decades because of it. It really was an unheard of precaution unlike anything being done in the world.

By 1880, there were 224 brothels legally operating in Paris. Of those 224, about 30,000 prostitutes were licensed by the government to operate their bodies and pay taxes on it. No kidding. These women had to all be licensed to be a whore and had to be physically and routinely checked by doctors that were hired by the government (sweet job for a perve). The moment any woman was found to have a venereal disease, she was taken off the street by the police and not allowed to "operate" anymore. While there were incredibly established and lavish brothels that were included, sadly, it also included what I call the maisons d'abattage. Translated it quite literally means "slaughterhouses." It was a low budget brothel where men paid, took a number and lined up outside a door waiting to be serviced. Meaning, a woman would finish with one customer and the other would step right in as the guy was leaving. There wasn't even time for her to wipe down. Some women endured over FIFTY men a night in these "slaughterhouses" (dearest God I would have just shot myself). As if that wasn't bad enough, the cost for a man to have a pass with one of these women was only a single franc (which is about $7 today). And you better believe that poor girl only saw a small percentage of it because the Madam in the brothel took a large cut of it. Not all brothels obviously operated this way. Some were insanely lavish and the girls were treated like diamonds, but sadly, it was a lifestyle that resulted in hardships no matter where they were working.

Everything operated this way in Paris until 1946 when the conservative government took over the city and shut everything down, turning all the brothels into apartments and public buildings. What many don't realize is that there was a much darker and deeper rooted sentiment behind doing so. It wasn't because they decided it was "wrong" but in fact that during the Nazi occupation in Paris, many of these brothels oversaw the sexual needs of Nazis. It was a personal shame not just that whores were running around town but that these women symbolized how far France had fallen. It had slept with the enemy. Quite literally.

With the shutting down of all brothels, the history of anything we might have known about them and its women and the men who frequented them began disappearing. Artifacts from these women and the brothels themselves were either destroyed or sold into private hands and/or never heard of again. Most people may not think protecting such history is important, but this is the history of our women who had no other means to earn their living in a world ruled by men. If that doesn't deserve protection and understanding, I don't know what the hell does.

So now that you have an understanding of Paris back in 1883 when our "guide" was printed, you begin to realize how important this guide truly is. It's like peering into history itself and the women who were trying to survive in a very legal trade.

MY EXPERIENCE:

I had to be buzzed into the Rare Book Room as it is locked to the public. I already felt special knowing I was part of an elite group of people who was "allowed" to be buzzed in. When I walked into the glass encased book covered room, I was greeted by a notable drop in temperature. It was so cool in fact, I wished I had brought a sweater along instead of wearing my little summer dress. I didn't even consider that yes, books that are rare and irreplaceable would require not only special encasing, but certain conditions to be able to survive.

I was not allowed to take any pictures. Nor was I allowed to use a pen. Only pencil, in case ink accidentally got on the book. Fortunately, I was allowed to bring in my computer to take notes. I was set up at my own desk with a lamp and a special foam book stand with a weighted string to which to set the book on. I was rather surprised they didn't make me wear gloves. From what I heard, in the British Museum, you not only have to wear gloves but you can't be "alone" with it the way I was in the New York City Library. So I got to physically touch a piece of history that my friends over in England can't.

When the item was brought out, imagine my surprise to find it wasn't an actual "book" but 11 pamphlets. They were 5x4 and threaded together in three places. They were in beautiful condition, though you can see they'd been handled by many before me, not including the dude that first got a hold of it back in 1883 to make use of it...

The title was printed across each pamphlet like this:

The Pretty Women of Paris; Their Names and Addresses, Qualities and Faults, Being a Complete Directory; Or, Guide to Pleasure For Visitors to the Gay City (1883 Privately Printed at the Press of the Prefecture de Police, by Subscription of the Members of the Principal Parisian Clubs).

Preface: "Every Woman has her Price." - The Author

When I saw that PREFACE, I actually snorted loud enough to make everyone in the Rare Book Room look up from their studies. I cringed and tried to pretend that I didn't do it by reading on. Boy did I ever get an eye full of that book. There were no illustrations but the words didn't need any. All the names of the women were listed in Alphabetical Order. Quite literally from A to Z. What fascinated me most was learning more about the details that get lost in history. Like what the life of a whore might have REALLY been like back in the 1800's. I think this book, though clearly sexist in its nature for the author had very few positive "reviews" of any of the women in his guide, it gives us a glimpse into the daily life of these women.

Here's two of my favorite excerpts:

D’Arcourt, Blanche

11, Rue Miromenil

For beauty in stature in stature and elegance in every limb, no handsomer woman will be found in Paris. She has a fine bust, and has just reached the ripe age of 29. She has a slight down on her upper lip, and affects a pince-nez, which gives her a very saucy appearance. She is very strong and a fine swimmer. Her lovers are to be found among the busy members of the Stock Exchange, and her only fault is the too frequent recurrence of some slight symptoms of venereal disease. She gives very pleasant balls and parties, where many young beginners may be picked up by the amateurs of female beauty. Last winter our brunette appeared at one of her reunions, attired in nothing but a loose gauze chemise and red-satin boots, exactly as if she was only a simple bawdy house wench. Her bosom friend, Antoinette Duret, who we notice further on, was attired, or rather, not attired, in the same way, and soon all the guests male and female, followed suit. She is very good-hearted, and does her best to please both old and young. The smallest contribution thankfully received.

Red-satin boots? I want those! And I just love the whole "slight symptoms of venereal disease." He was probably trying to get her into trouble with the police.

And my next favorite excerpt:

D’Ange, Baroness

Rue Saint Georges

Nearly every visitor to Paris has noticed an elderly lady, who drive in the fashionable promenades, handling the whip herself with consummate cleverness. She is always attired in the height of fashion, and generally has at her side a young and comely companion. The old baroness herself is old and ugly, but her turn-out is always a marvel of coaching display. Sometimes she disdains to drive, and a postilion, be-wigged and be-powdered, with brilliant, old fashioned costume, conducts this luxurious old bawd; while on other days a tiny tiger, dressed in the perfection of taste, dances up and down on the spring-board behind her airy vehicle. IN any other capital of Europe this person known as the “Shame of Paris” would be simply pelted with mud and stones, for everybody is aware of her trade. It is that which Martial, in his epigrams, so unmercifully condemns. She, nothing more than a fellatrix, or, so to speak more plainly, she produces the venereal spasm by the contact of her mouth, and the tickling of her tongue. Only a common whore, provided with a card by the police, compelling her to submit to the search of the speculum at stated times, she manages to avoid this disagreeable duty by clever bribery. Her house, which, contrary to the usual habit in Paris, is inhabited by her alone, is magnificently furnished, and full of costly pictures, statues, and works of art. The visitor is generally conducted to a splendid bedstead in Algerian style, and after copious ablutions with rose-water, proffered in a silver basin, the goddess deigns to prove the power of that marvelous piece of mechanism – the female tongue. The snug retreat is also tenanted by two or three young nymphs, but none are so clever as this old woman. Her large fortune proves her vogue, as all Paris has passed her doors. Well worth a visit, if only out of curiosity, especially as one short séance is only 10 francs, with a slight gratuity to the waiting-maid, who in return for your kindness, will show you over the house.

What struck me about all the entries was realizing how real these women were and the hardships and the craziness they must have endured. Not only did they create it for themselves but the men placed that burden on them as well. Many think that the Victorian era erased vice and created modesty in women. In some, yes. But sadly, in many no. Their stories are overlooked. After all, who cares about a whore? Which comes to show that our perception of history is messed up. We want the romantic side of how people lived back in the day as opposed to how they really lived. In doing so, we are slapping these women in the face. They may not have lived the most moral or honorable of lives, but they lived them. To pretend these women didn't exist makes us the ones in need of moral reassessment. I'm just saying. Praise be the whore who lead a life unlike anything I could ever write (though I will try, lol).

Cheers and much love until next time,

Delilah Marvelle

The Sinner's Grand Tour

2011-07-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
So I get this email from the wonderful, Elizabeth Kerri Mahon, and she's like, "Delilah, did you see this?" and attaches this link to this video (watch the video first or you won't get this post, LOL, click HERE.)

So after watching the video, what does a historical underbelly freak such as myself do? I ran out and bought the damn book. And I read it. I read it like in...oh...4 hours. Let me say that the author, Tony Perrottet basically made me so dang JEALOUS. It is officially on my list of things to do before I die, to visit and see and do all the things he has in this book. His book is pure genius and I recommend you buy the dang thing. It's funny but fascinating and witty and based on real history. Some of it I already knew but there were more details added that made it so delicious to read. And others I didn't know about at ALL....

Holy God, do I ever want to see whatever it left of the SECRETUM. If even to smell it. *Smirk* What's that? In 1866, in the height of Victorian sex paranoia, the British Museum trustees voted to have any and all pornographic related material shoved into a room known as Cupboard 55. From historic dildos to condoms from the 1700's, to Marquis de Sade's works, to paintings and sculptures too graphic to show, it basically boasted over a thousand naughty artifacts that would make Indiana Jones blush. This room is STILL in existence, but because we aren't QUITE the Victorian prudes we used to be, the artifacts in the room have been since dispersed to other areas in the museum for the public to see (that started happening in the 1960's). BUT...there are still things hidden within Cupboard 55 worth seeing. Like wax cocks from Italy, badges worn by medieval pilgrims that proudly boast the vagina which they wore during pilgrimage (who knew?!), a pipe from the Tudor age with a woman holding up her skirts and showing everything beneath it. How can you see these things? They're only shown by appointment every Tuesday at the British Museum. I think a trip to London for that alone is in order here...

That's only one of MANY things this book covered. So many things in fact, I decided to do my own version of hunting down delectable pieces of history in this book....PERSONALLY. So guess what people? Next month, I'll be doing an in depth coverage of one of the items I get to personally get my hands on while I'm in New York City and all of the history behind it and what WASN'T in the dang book pertaining to said object. I got my appointment set up to see it and spent some one on one time with it and take tons of notes. What is it? I figure I'll just make you all suffer until next month. Ha. I'm such a tease.

Until next time with much love,

Delilah Marvelle

The Museum of Sex

2011-06-01T00:09:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
So I recently got back from New York City where I was doing research for my upcoming Rumor series, whilst also attending the Book Expo of America and I simply *had* to do a post on my visit to The Museum of Sex. (I'll also be posting a fun video of all my travels throughout NYC, which will include snippets at my Video Newsletter which will appear on my video Newsletter site simply click HERE on June 5th!).

How did I know about this place? Believe it or not, I was actually contacted by the Museum itself as they were preparing for an exhibit on the history of condoms and they wanted to know where I got a particular source for information on Egyptian condoms. *strutting my stuff* I directed them to my source and in return, they sent me an invite and placed my name as one of the contributors on that exhibit, which was pretty flippin' cool. Though obviously not something to brag about at church. *waggling brows*

You'll find this sign in the store of the Museum and it basically sets up the entire feel of the mindset you are about to enter into. I have to say I was pretty astounded as to how serious people got when entering. People would point and whisper as if everything around them wasn't supposed to be discussed. That's when I knew I had officially entered...the Taboo Zone....

The museum itself is something worth going to JUST to see how people behave when placed in a public setting of sex. People really are prudes when it comes down to it. Especially guys. All the men that were there were dead serious about the whole thing. They stared at stuff quietly as if they were looking at a Professor's discourse in Theology. Seriously! Women were a little more gabby and giggly and more at ease, especially if they were with girlfriends or with their boyfriend/spouse. Which says a lot about the social divide between men and women when it comes to sex itself.

The first exhibit covered SEX AND THE MOVING IMAGE. You got it. Porn in film. It was fascinating to read about the birth of cinema itself and how it started with a lot of the naughty stuff in France around 1895. I'll be doing a whole post on this alone in the near future, so I won't be delving too much into it now, but it was very creatively laid out, showing how each decade changed "porn." Throughout the exhibit they had porn being played left and right as you walked through and the moans and groans of people getting it on while I was trying to focus and read through the history of pornography was VERY distracting. Did I still love it? Hell yeah. Why? Because it pushed me to recognize where my comfort zone REALLY was. I'm not by any means a prude, and I live for the history of sex but there is something to be said when it's all done in public and you're sharing it with men and women you've never seen in your life and you're all watching some 70's flick of people having sex....I didn't last very long in that room. I was more fascinated by the origin of pornography but once I started getting into the 70's, 80's, 90's and today's porn I was just like...next!! Hey, Bubble Tea anyone? Look, it's my reaction to watching porn in public with a bunch of guys and girls I don't know!!!

Needless to say, I quickly moved on to finding my THING at the museum. Historical sex? Oh yeah. Bring it. Mrs. Restell anyone??? Do you even know who the hell Mrs. Restell is? I sure didn't. She was the woman to know in New York City if you weren't looking to end up with 27 kids (sounds like she's going to be making an appearance in my upcoming New York series, lol). She sold contraceptives in the mid 1800's and advertised her wares in papers.

At $5, a woman received a package of powders said to last five years which was forwarded anywhere in the Unites States. It was to be taken directly after having sex. Above is a picture of the sort of oral contraceptives my heroine would have been looking at. Open wide! (pun intended).

The Onanism display was along the same lines of good old Mr. Kellogg's ideals (see May 2011's post). Onanism means two things: the withdrawal during intercourse or masturbation. Which do you think the Victorians were more freaked out about? You betcha. Masturbation. (Dorks). Don't believe me? Here's an actual medical chart and diagram of what they believed would happen to a man if he masturbated. He drooled and looked retarded. Oh, you can spot those f*in masturbators. You really can.

Once you've spotted those f*in masturbators, you better believe you needed to take care of those bastards before their condition worsened. Those boys and men were fitted into their own Anti-Onanism Device created by the Ferier Brothers in Paris during the 1890's.

Note the cast iron for the crotch AND the metal bindings to fasten it and keep it into place. Comfie, eh? Why even bother putting holes in the area where the balls could breathe? Sheesh. Wonder how they pissed in this thing anyway? They probably just pissed in it *crinkling nose in disgust*. Yes, people, this was a chastity belt which was very popular during the Victorian era for both men and women (yet another post I have yet to cover). Chastity belts were popular in the Victorian era not to keep others from touching your crotch, but to keep YOU from touching your crotch.

So let's move on to the next display, shall we? Vibrators. Ah, wonderful devices that give us hours and hours of joy! Here's what your grandmother would have used in the 1930's. In truth they look like stuff our of her kitchen drawers...wait...wonder if that's where Grandma kept her shit. Now we know why she REALLY drank Castor oil. *ewww*

There was also an incredible and creative exhibit dedicated to pornographic cartooning and the history behind comics that you wouldn't want your kids to see. As Mr. Tom of Finland is quoted as saying, "If I don't get an erection when I'm doing a drawing, I know it's no good." I finished this most awesome tour of sex by visiting The Oralfix Cafe located in the very basement of the Museum, which specializes in Aphrodisiac drinks.

What did I have to drink??? A Persephone made out of Pomegranate, Mango, rum and honey crystal rim. It was delicious beyond belief and I was buzzed and flushed within fifteen minutes flat. Was it worth the $11 dollars? Hell yeah.

What little memento did I walk away for myself?? A pair of underwear for $18 (my husband fainted)

And a bottle of arousal pills for $3.50, thank you very much (which actually didn't work for shit. At least not for this hot blooded woman).

I could go on and on about how freakin AWESOME and TITILLATING this museum is but I hope you'll go dash and check it out yourself sometime. The Museum of Sex is located in New York City and deserved kudos and respect for tackling the history and evolution of sex in a artful, tasteful, intelligent and creative manner.

Until next time and wishing you much lusty potency,
Delilah Marvelle

The power of Cornflakes

2011-05-03T12:07:00.001-07:00

My dearest Reader,
As you are repeatedly learning through my blog, people of the past were probably bigger freaks then we will ever be because of an atmosphere created by male domination and world stupidity as a result of said male domination (sorry guys, it's true). My objective today is to make you realize that the things you eat are the thing you should be choking on because of their history and what it represents.

Diving into quick overview, let's introduce Mr. John Harvey Kellogg. Hm. Kellogg. Sounds familiar? You bet your bottom dollar it is the same bastard's name who is sitting in your cupboard at home encouraging you to slather the flakes with milk. Before you hunker down and shove in another mouthful, you MAY want to know WHO invented Cornflakes and WHY.

*Cracking knuckles*

Mr. John Harvey Kellogg (born 1852 and died 1943) was an over-educated, church minded asshole. (Note: this is the sole opinion of a romance writer based upon a single man and his beliefs not the church he belonged to. My opinion does not represent the romance genre or all of its affiliates. Heh). He was a Seventh-Day Adventist that was part of a Christian sect that distinguished itself by observing church on Saturday, as opposed to Sunday. He believed that God was in EVERYTHING. Well...except for the cock and the clitoris. He had incredible modern-day notions of being a vegetarian despite living in a society that ate ham and mutton as if they were sugar cookies. He passionately and ardently supported no meat eating not because of all the poor slaughtered animals but because he believed that MEAT increased sexual stimulation (which was very, very BAD) and that it brought out the BEAST in us (shudder). He was the chief medical officer of a Sanitarium and instilled strict no booze and no smoking rules on anyone and anything in his grasp. After all, it was no more good for the body than it was for the soul's conduct. With his sole focus on being grain and vegetarian diet that he firmly believes reduced sexual appetite and the vile need for masturbation, he and his brother, Will (which amusingly enough means "penis" in Shakespeare's time...how fitting!) started the SANITAS FOOD COMPANY in 1897. The two created a recipe known as CORNFLAKES.

But alas, the two got into an argument. Will wanted to put sugar on the Cornflakes. Mr. john Asshole didn't want sugar in the flakes, so he sent his brother, Will, packing and the two became rivals that created a decade long feud. The guy who didn't want sugar on his Toasted Corn Flakes that are still being eaten today is the same guy who as a doctor and in his sanitarium specialized in rehabilitating "masturbators" (it was known as a serious condition at the time...). Part of his regimen for these masturbators included having his male and female patients eat a diet of Corn Flakes whilst employing disturbing measures of mutilating said patients by having boys and men who were NOT circumcised, clipped on the spot as he believed it would keep them from touching it. But the men got off easy compared to the women. He applied phenol (carbolic ACID) to a woman's clitoris to ensure she never felt anything ever again. Yes, it was a form of female castration. He lived until 91 and to the end believed he had done all of society including all his poor patients a favor.

So the next time you dig into your Cornflakes my dear readers, I ask that you momentarily pause and mourn for those poor souls before us who had to swallow Mr. Kellogg's views on sexuality. Then chew and swallow and hope to whatever god there is, you just didn't sentence your sex drive to hell.

Until next time, I bid thee much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Scandalous Women

2011-04-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

I have an amazing special guest post from my dear friend and writer and researcher extraordinaire, Elizabeth Kerri Mahon. It's ever so fitting to feature her book. Read and post a comment for your chance to win a signed copy of her incredible book, SCANDALOUS WOMEN. Be sure to post your email address. This giveaway is only open to U.S. residents. And without further ado....let Elizabeth strut her stuff.

Well Behaved Women Don't Make History" Laurel Thatcher Ullrich

From the moment I first read that quote, I knew that I wanted to write about those women who weren't so well-behaved, the stories of the brave and ballsy women who made waves since the dawn of man. It's the sinners that we remember far more than the saints of this world! Those are the stories that drew me to writing Scandalous Women. Outrageous women like Barbara Castlemaine, Duchess of Cleveland who once threatened to dash out the brains of her child unless her lover Charles II of England acknowledged him. The dramatic fire of Lola Montez as she danced the Spider Dance that lured men like Franz Liszt, Alexandre Dumas pere and King Ludwig of Bavaria into her web. I wanted the reader to see these women not just as icons or as symbols but as human beings, warts and all.

Writing this book was a labor of love but it was tough narrowing the book down to just 35 women. So many Scandalous Women, so little time! I wanted to include a wide range of women, some that readers would know, but I also wanted to include some forgotten women like Carry Nation and Anna Leonowens. Even though I adore all the women that I wrote about, there were some of course that I loved more than others. I hate to play favorites but I can't help myself.

Eleanor of Aquitaine - Who hasn't watched The Lion in Winter numerous times? I know I have. Wife to two kings and mother of three, Eleanor of Aquitaine was the most powerful woman of her time. As the heir to Aquitaine she ruled over an area half the size of modern France. Complex and boldly original, she broke the mold for women, and lived life on her own terms. Not content to stay at home while the men waged war, she joined her first husband Louis VII of France on Crusade. During her difficult and troubled marriage to Henry II of England, joined her sons in rebellion, spending eleven years imprisoned for her daring. Even in her eighties, she continued to be a force, holding England strong for Richard the Lionheart, while he away was on Crusade, before finally retiring at last to a convent. During her lifetime she was the subject of vile rumors, that she rode barebreasted like an Amazon while on crusade, slept with her uncle, murdered Henry II's mistress Rosamund Clifford, ignoring her achievements as Duchess of Aquitaine. Isn't that always the way?

Anne Boleyn - My favorite of all of Henry VIII's wives, Anne has fascinated me for years. Sultry and tempestuous, Anne caused a sensation when she returned to England from France, cutting a swathe through the gallants at court. Fashion forward, she not only introduced the adorable French hood, but also made brunettes the rage. The original Rules girl, she kept the King of England him at arms length until he made her Queen. Where did she get the chutzpah? Not only did he divorce his wife, but he broke with the church of Rome, creating the Church of England, all for her tawny hand. Her greatest legacy, her daughter Elizabeth, arguably England's greatest Queen.

Jane Digby - called "one of the most remarkable women of the nineteenth century', Jane married at the tender age of seventeen to the much older Lord Ellenborough, but within a few years she left him for an Austrian prince resulting in one of England's most scandalous divorces. Subsequently she fell in love with a young Greek count who then fought a duel for her. In middle-age but still beautiful, after vowing to renounce men, she met and married the love of her life, a Bedouin nobleman, who was twenty years her junior. Today we would call Jane a serial monogamist but in the Regency and Victorian era, they had some not so nice names for her. I prefer to think of her as a passionate nomad, searching for her one true love.

This is just a sneak peek of some of the women that you can find along with a host of other rule-breakers in SCANDALOUS WOMEN.

The Perfect Scandal....

2011-03-01T07:58:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,

In honor of THE PERFECT SCANDAL which is officially out in stores, I give thee the story behind the story. Although there are many facets that made this book come together, there is one facet in particular that I'll be delving into because I'm all about the scandal, baby. Which is why we'll be touching upon Catherine the Great. Catherine the Great is what I define as the ultimate female mover-and-shaker of the 1700s and one who had quite the reputation. Was she one of Russia's strongest monarchs? Or one of the most over-sexed rulers? It depends upon who is writing Her-story.

She was born in 1729 and named Sophia Augusta Frederika. Her parents were German royalty, and through her mother's line, Sophia could lay claim to the crown of Sweden. Sophia grew up to marry the nephew of Elizabeth, the Empress of Russia (who had been engaged to Sophia's uncle).
Empress Elizabeth considered Sophia a suitable wife for Peter, her heir, so in the winter of 1744, she invited Sophia to meet him. Sophia fell in love, not with her husband-to-be, but with Mother Russia. She learned the language, the culture, and to the delight of Elizabeth, converted to the Russian Orthodox Church. With her conversion, she was given a new name Yekaterina - Catherine. Some say this conversion was political expediency, but given Catherine's later efforts at reform, it seems at least some of it came from her heart.

Peter III turned out to be a great choice as a route to the throne and a less-than-adequate choice for husband. He suffered from poor health, a virulent temper and seemed to be emotionally stunted -- he loved to play with toy soldiers, drank to excess and eight years into the marriage both Peter and Catherine were apparently still virgins. At the very least, there was no heir. Catherine spent those eight years reading history voraciously. Peter spent it playing with his toy soldiers. It is rumored that Elizabeth, anxious about the succession, condoned Catherine taking a lover. A male heir was produced, which Peter acknowledged as his own. In 1761, Elizabeth died a happy Empress, thinking the crown was secure.

As Empress, Catherine turned her attention to applying all she'd learned into helping the country she loved. She enacted reforms in agriculture (the study of soil, travel grants to England to purchase new machines), built new factories, and reformed trade. By 1765, three quarters of the debt she'd inherited from Empress Elizabeth was paid off. Public health also came under scrutiny. She invited to her Court Dr. Thomas Dimsdale (a Scotsman who did groundbreaking work on a small-pox vaccine) and took the vaccine herself. Then, education. She established schools and increased the number of grants to study abroad. Finally, with her great love of Russian culture, she commissioned art and built theaters, including The Hermitage.

Amidst all this incredible history, and during her marriage, she fell in lust with many men and followed upon that lust. However, the one lust of her life we'll be touching upon is the one that created the basis of my story. Before the young Polish Count Poniatowski became the King of Poland in a formal coronation that took place in Warsaw in 1764, he was Catherine the Great'slover.

They were introduced, of all things, through England's politics. Catherine was so smitten by the young, intelligent and handsome Count and knew she had to have him. The Count, in turn, was also smitten. And so the torrent relationship commenced, being kept in utmost secrecy. She would dress as a servant and sneak out of the palace where he would be waiting with a carriage. He, in turn, would dress as a musician and carry in an instrument (we know which one!) into the palace and they would sneak off into one of many hidden rooms. One of these hidden rooms, I included in the book itself. It was a room where the Empress escaped to and few even today know of. The room was hidden behind a bookshelf beyond her bedchamber and when you descended into it, you found yourself in a lush room whose walls were completely covered with mirrors. You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? Oh yeah. I've no doubt she made DAMN good use of it. And I made sure I made damn good use of it in MY book *wink, wink*.

Her affair with Poniatowski carried on until she became pregnant with Count Poniatowski's child. A girl by the name of Anna Petrovna (not to be confused with Catherine the Great's OTHER daughter, Grand Duchess, Anna Petrovna who died at 20). Anna's birth was recorded to have taken place in 1757. Mysteriously, this child died 15 months after her birth and there is little to no information about this child. Catherine the Great, who kept a detailed diary, didn't even speak of her. And so....this mysterious death created a "what if" spark in my mind. What if the death had been staged? There certainly would have been reasons for it and it whispered of possibilities. Possibilities I tweaked to create THE PERFECT SCANDAL.

What further fueled this idea for me was that shortly afterward, the Empress had also made Count Poniatowski King of Poland by seizing the throne for him by force, hoping to have complete control over Poland. She found that her lover wasn't playing by all her rules. Everything rapidly fell apart between them as well as under his rule and the whole of Poland was partitioned into three sections by Prussia, Russia and Austria. The first partition was in 1772, the second partition was in 1793, and the third and last partitioned that eliminated Poland as an independent nation was in 1795.

Catherine the Great dethroned Poniatowski and took Poland for her own, overruling her passion for her pride and her country. Interestingly enough, Poniatowski became a prisoner of sorts to the Empress. He was brought out to Saint Petersburg and was kept under close surveillance until his death in 1798, even two years after the Empress had died (in 1796).

Either way, Russia was changed forever by Catherine. She died in 1796 and as for the cause of her death -- the rumor about the horse is a lie. It was spread by haters since she did things that women of that time period weren’t supposed to do -- take over a country and take on as many lovers as her heart desired.

Amen to power, lust and scandal.
Cheers and much love,
Until next time,
Delilah Marvelle

The Not So Sexy Side of History....

2011-02-01T01:00:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,
This month's blog post will be dedicated to the history behind Book 2 of Once Upon A Scandal. And boy is the history ever a good one. We'll be exploring two facets laced throughout the pages of the book 1.) Venereal Disease and 2.) The Cicisbeo

So let's begin our little history lesson starting with the not-so-sexy side of history. Venereal Disease is not really a subject that's usually touched upon in historical romance novels. In ONCE UPON A SCANDAL, my current release, the heroine’s father is dying from syphilis. It’s not pretty and it’s utterly heartbreaking. Because we’re dealing with romance novels, many people don’t want to see the ugly side of the reality most of these women (and men) faced. Which is why I wrote the story. Except for AIDS, every sexual disease imaginable was passed around in history. And because there was no understanding that REUSING condoms could in fact transfer disease to both sides…there was a false sense of security for men back in the day. An example of what a rake’s life was REALLY like was Casanova himself. The man bed hundreds of women, dined with the finest and the lowest, fought several duels (and lived to tell about it) and suffered from 11 venereal diseases (including gonorrhea, soft chancre, herpes, and syphilis...sexy, eh?). In the beginning, he was getting it from the women (because obviously he wasn’t born with it). Toward the end, he was giving it to the women. Despite the long list of diseases he had…believe it or not, he lived well into old age. What killed him was his inability to piss when his urethra finally closed up on him. Eck. I know. Hey, these were the REAL rakes of the day.

When it came to trying to cure these diseases, these people tried everything. Some claimed eating peacock would cure it, (I joke about this in Once Upon A Scandal) while some claimed sleeping with virgins would cure it (don’t you just want to KILL these people?). Believe it or not, the whole sleeping with virgins superstition lasted well into the 1900’s. There were actually brothels who specialized in ‘curing’ known as TEMPLES. *Shaking Head*

Though drinking mercury was the most popular form of cure, applying mercury in a form of a salve onto the lesions was also done. Most often it was the mercury itself that ended up killing them. For chaffing and lesions linen bandages soaked in narcissus water was used. There were also people who created their own versions of ‘the cure’ (quacks) and tried to sell it and make a profit (of course it never worked). Syphilis, depending on which region of Europe you were from went by many names. The British Called it ‘French Disease’, The French called it ‘Italian Disease’, The Russians called it ‘Polish disease’ (see a pattern here?). Everyone was freakin calling it according to their ‘enemy’ The reality was, they all had it, British, French, Italian, Russian, Polish, you name it. Because everyone was having sex. Once a prostitute (or courtesan) contracted any detectable disease, her career was over. For who would pay any good price for tainted goods? Although sadly, that did not stop many of these women from spreading it around (or being in denial). It simply meant they would no longer be in ‘demand’ for they were ‘poxed.’ In respectable society, gentlemen gave it to their wives all the time because of their dalliances. It was a dirty, horrible secret. And once it was diagnosed, respectable society had a tendency to ‘disappear’ as quietly as they could. They were known to ‘take in waters’, or they ‘toured Europe.' They called it hundreds of other things it really wasn’t. Which is why when looking over documentation, it’s hard to dig up a lot of facts about how venereal disease was treated. People just didn’t want to talk about it. Think of how everyone in the 1980’s reacted to AIDS. It was amazing to see the freaking out, the misunderstandings, and the whispers…can you imagine THEN?

2.) The Cicisbeo. Also known as the Cavalier Servante.

This is a practice I stumbled upon whilst researching Venice and is utterly fascinating, although not too much has been documented and written on the subject, leaving holes in the subject. A cicisbeo was a make-shift lady's maid, a chaperone and a protector in the guise of a gentleman. It was a practice in Italy amongst the nobility in the 18th and 19th century that allowed a married woman to keep a man, whom her husband chose for her to have during their marriage for a specified amount of time. It was created, supposedly, during a time when noblewomen were educated and reared in cloisters only to emerge and be married to men that were three times their age. Due to the age difference and the fact that these men traveled for business, leaving their wives frequently unattended, the idea of the cicisbeo was born. A cicisbeo was any respectable, unmarried gentleman. He would sign a contract of servitude to the lady on the day of her wedding, although it had to be approved by both the husband and the priest. From that day onward, for however much time had been agreed to, the cicisbeo served his lady. He would dress her, bring her chocolate to drink, attend to her servants to ensure they were doing their part, bring any news and gossip for her from the city, assist her in and out of her gondola, attend events with her when her husband couldn't, and basically anything else she needed. He was basically her right hand. *Excuse me while I smirk* It was considered "unfashionable" to be seen anywhere in public without one. It was like having the latest ride. *Excuse me while I smirk again* There were rules he had to follow and he was expected not to be involved or married. I did my darnest while researching and contacting researchers and professors trying to find those set of rules, but the reality is very little is known about their day to day life. Because of the close daily and nightly proximity a married lady had with her cicisbeo, I have no doubt it lead to other things we can only imagine. Some historians argue it was a glorified and legal lover of the wife that husbands tolerated. I guess it's something we'll never know....

Supposedly, Lord Byron himself was a cicisbeo for a period of time to the married Contessa Teresa Gamba Guiccioli. He even wrote a poem regarding the cicisbeo (Beppo), but if you read it, you quickly figure out he wasn't a fan. He probably got the short end of the stick. No pun intended...

Now that I've completely bonked you on the head with the not so sexy side of history, let's bring it full circle and make it sexy again, shall we? February is the month of LOOOOOVE, with Valentine's Day right smack in the middle of the month. In honor of Valentine's Day, my gift to you (aside from this post...heh), I am offering up FIVE signed copies of the ever romantic Once Upon A Scandal. That's right. Five. How's that for scandalous love? To enter all you have to do is either Tweet a link to this post or Facebook a link to this post, then come back and post a little love (or a lot, it's your choice). With five books, that's five chances to win! Winners will be posted and chosen by the end of the month. PLEASE POST YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS in your post so I can contact you. Good luck! Until next time, Cheers and Much Love, Delilah Marvelle

Are you ready to be Scandalized?

2011-01-01T01:00:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,
Happy New Year!!! Goodness...it's 2011. Which means we have yet another year of sexual history to look forward to! This month's blog post will be dedicated to not only the history behind Book 1 of Prelude to a Scandal. A lot of history went into this particular book, though I like to call it "hidden" history that most people will most likely overlook. Yes. Even you. What are some of the hidden histories? 1.) Sodomy laws. 2.) Censorship of books 3.) Pornography portraits 4.) Sexual addiction

1.) Let us begin with the topic of sodomy laws, shall we? We'll keep it to England, for this could be a whole historical topic in and of itself. The very first legislative sodomy law established in England was done so by none other than Henry the VIII himself.

Surprised? No. I'm sure you're not. It was known as the Buggery Act of 1533, making sodomy punishable by hanging. Sodomy was referred to as "buggery" all throughout England. And this particular law was not lifted until 1861. As was defined by the Act, it referred to any form of anal penetration, be it with another male or a female, though obviously, the core of the law focused on homosexuality. If you were found guilty, you were hanged. If you were found guilty of "attempting buggery" (meaning, you ALMOST did it) you were slapped with a jail sentence that lasted up to two years. I wonder how an ALMOST was proven in courts??? Of course, the justice system back then wasn't really justice as we would define it... This Act lay untouched for the longest time (no pun intended...). Surprisingly, in 1828, the buggery laws were actually reshuffled and strengthened, persecuting more people within a three decade period than had been done in a hundred year period. When the death penalty was lifted in 1861, parliament sought to lay out another law under a broader term known as the Laboucher Amendment (because French makes it sound so naughty, right?). This Amendment was passed in 1885 and forbade GROSS INDECENCY between males, which really made anything homosexual related illegal. Oscar Wilde got caught up in this law. This law wasn't lifted from England's law books until 1967. Seriously.

2.) Censorship of books was always somewhat present in England's laws, but a blind eye was usually turned toward things like pornography until about the end of the Georgian period that brought us into the Regency period. There was such a rise in religious endeavors against indecency in literature that the law had to start paying attention to more due to the middle class rising and having more of a voice in both church, the streets and edging into parliament. Most pornography in the Regency and Romantic period as well as going into the Victorian period were done by women and men who translated and printed pornography under pseudonyms, though many were often caught and were fined heavily and jailed for it.

(The above is a Victorian edition of Fanny Hill...note the amount of LOVE that went into it, lol) Because it was difficult to have a store front for pornography in the Regency, Romantic and Victorian era, men and women figured out ways to "cheat" the system. One way was by throwing them over the fences of boarding schools. Other ways included hand selling in certain areas and to certain clients looking for pornographic reads. Needless to say, most of these people were eventually unearthed, but they made quite a living at it in between being caught.

3.) Pornography portraits have been around since paint. Portraits of women were very intimate to begin with, but to have a certain woman painted in life size and in a certain pose or with a certain lack of clothing was considered "pornography" a gentleman would never hang outside the walls of his bedchamber. Unless he happens to be my hero, lol.

Many gentlemen "hid" these portraits within the confines of their bedchambers throughout the centuries beneath a curtain and would drape it open and make use of it whenever they felt particularly frisky. And yes, you had better believe I made use of this history in my book, lol.

4.) Sexual addiction. While this is a modern terminology, sexual addiction has been around ever since men had cocks. Just as drunks have been around ever since there was ale. Back then, such addictions were not understood. If a woman had a form of sexual addiction, she was considered a whore. Period. If a man had a form of sexual addiction, he was a rake. Period. It wasn't seen as a problem. Though going through Casanova's memoirs as well as the writings of MY SECRET LIFE, I have no doubt whatsoever both men had serious sexual addiction problems. For they were obsessed with it not just physically, but mentally. Even today, very few people understand what sexual addiction really is. There are many different levels of sexual addiction. From self-masturbation to fetishes that are based upon their "moods" and their "thoughts" and their "compulsions." And yes, I decided to write about it because it is an addiction that is so little understood and most certainly not discussed in historical context. Now mind you, I write romance, so I had to bring about a happily ever after that might not have actually happened for a sex addict back in 1829. But I believe in the healing power of love and I hope you do, too.

That said, in honor of PRELUDE TO A SCANDAL'S release, I am hosting a very special giveaway. Be sure to get your hands on a copy of Prelude to a Scandal for your chance to win a $25 gift card to Barnes and Noble. How do you enter??? The first person to post the correct name of Lady Justine's South African Hottentot guide will win the gift card! Of course, we just can't have only ONE person winning, can we? Nooooo. So here's your chance to win second place. Everyone who posts will have their name put into a drawing to win an authentic carved, South African letter opener from Cape Town (which is where my heroine Justine was raised).

All you have to do is answer this one question: What is the name of Justine's etiquette book and who is the author? Winners will be formally announced a week before February 1st. Please post your email along with your answer so I can contact you if you win.

And be sure to return to both the February and March post, where I will be giving away more prizes and history relating to each book!
Until next time...Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

The Art of Dating PART 1

2010-12-01T00:28:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,

One does not have to wander far back into history to be utterly astonished by the wisdom (or lack of...) pertaining to relationships between men and women. In past posts, I've explored little books similar to the one I will be exploring today, but this one takes the cake. Let us explore life back in the day when your grandmother and grandfather were 'hip and dating'. We'll break down the chapters together. Though mind you, there is so much good stuff in this book, so you'd best believe I'll be returning to this subject in April with a glorious Part 2, after the launch of my Scandal books series (because I have something special planned for January, February and March). So the book? THE ART OF DATING, Necking, Petting & Popularity: Wisdom from the 1940's.

Chapter One covers the age old question: SHOULD YOU DATE? Actually...this is the most promising part of the entire book, lol. Which doesn't say much about the book, does it? It simply states that dating should be encouraged to allow people to make better choices when it comes to lifelong partners. Fair enough and wise.

Let's move on to Chapter Two, shall we? Oh, yes, we shall. DATES TO AVOID. This is where we all realize that our generation isn't as screwed up as we think it is. Some of the dates to avoid? Girl-made dates. And I quote: "The girl taking the initiative and asking a young man...this method is not popular, and it is doubtful if it will ever be." (Hahahahahahaha....that's just us women having the last laugh. But wait! There's more!). "Stalking is justifiable and natural. Fellows like it and call it cute..." (This is before Fatal Attraction hit movie theatres...).

Other dates to avoid? Blind dates. Why? "You can soon lose your good name by going out with a person whose reputation is unknown to you." In other words, reputation first. Safety last. Heh. Stalkers are cute, after all, right? Of course, right. Another date to avoid? Pick ups. No, not pick up lines. Meaning, don't pick up hitchhikers, people on the street and strangers. And I quote: "Discriminating people will have more self-respect than to make chance acquaintances...the risk involved makes the chance too dangerous an experiment with which to trifle." (And yet stalking is okay....) And the last type of date to avoid? Mail order dates. That's what they called those Male seeking Female type ads in the paper. Makes it sound so...wild west-ish, don't it? Bottom line, according to the author: "It does not fulfill the true objective of dating." And what is the true objective of dating back in 1940? No, it's not to screw as many totally hot people as you can. *shame on you* It's "to fit young people for love and marriage." *Deep breath and sigh...so romantic*

Chapter Three: HOW TO GET A DATE. (Hey, you may learn something here)

1.) Study the technique of your successful rival (meaning the person scoring all the dates)

2.) Study yourself. Read the chapter "How to be Popular" (snort...that's my snort, by the way.)

3.)Make yourself available (and no, not in *that* way!) Make it possible for others to meet you.

4.)Take a select few into your confidence

5.)Be especially kind to your parents' guests (Because you *really* wanna date your dad's friends, lol...omgod...can you imagine?!)

6.) Respect others and yourself (hey...this is good advice for a young woman)

7.) Forget past dates (ah...it's hard not to compare, isn't it?)

8.) Exercise reserve (all the women today would be screwed if thrown back into the 40's)

Oh, yes. This is just the beginning of your 1940's lesson on dating. Of course...you'll have to wait until April for Part 2...but no worries! In January, February and March, I'll keep you all busy with giveaways and interesting tid bits of history to celebrate the launch of my back to back scandal series (yes, this is a sales pitch). That said, I will leave you to ponder this advice and warning from our little book: "The type of person who would neck with a stranger would go on to petting." Would you neck with a stranger? Hmmmmmm.....guess that makes me a total slut in 1940's standard.

Until next time,

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

The Illusive history of the Merkin

2010-10-31T23:54:00.000-07:00

My dearest Reader,

I apologize ahead of time, but will confess that this post will most likely not go beyond a few measly paragraphs. It has nothing to do with my being lazy, but the topic itself. The ever illusive history of the merkin. What, pray tell, is a merkin? Well, it's a wig. A *pubic* wig. And they've been around for a VERY long time. The merkin itself was believed to have made its appearance about 1450, according to the Oxford Companion to the Body. I have no doubt whatsoever that it was around much longer than that obviously if there is no documented proof of it, then one cannot readily say it. While The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language claims that the word "merkin" is a corruption of the word "malkin" (which in c.1400 meant 'mop' as well as 'lower class woman'), I am going to be a total snot and disagree based off of my own piecing together of bits of history pertaining to the merkin. Now before you snicker and wonder why the hell I would even spend any time researching a pubic wig, I assure you, I wasn't in the least bit interested in researching it. Seriously!!! It sort of...well...fell into my lap. Ehm. Bad pun, I know. But here's what I found on my own, as very little is known about the detailed history of the merkin.

The idea behind the merkin itself seems to have originated from prostitutes. And not for the kinky reasons you think. Merkins were mini wigs pieced together with goat hair, horse hair or human hair. Should I mention that most human hair for wigs of those times were taken from corpses? Nice thought. Unlike real pubic hair, the merkin could be removed, boiled or placed in an oven to kill lice and anything else living in it. Prostitutes who were forced to shave off their pubic hair due to pubic lice had to quickly cover that area up and I'm guessing that the Renaissance period, in particular, had something to do with it. People in that era found pubic baldness extremely funny, and well, a prostitute couldn't readily be seen as a dunce if she's to make money. Merkins also hid something even more sinister. Venereal disease. A good merkin would cover sores from syphilis and gonorrhea. Women who were being treated with mercury usually also suffered from pubic balding.

How were they attached? Now this, I don't know. I've tried digging that up but was unable to find any sources that would give me documented proof of how it was physically attached. I'm guessing it was tied into place and in turn made it look festive and decorative. Maybe ribbons (if the prostitute could afford them, that is).

So...getting back to me being a snot. I disagree with The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language based of the following: It's all about connecting dots and realizing that slang changes and the use of a word can arise from a different origin than expected. According to Groses's Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1795) the merkin was defined as "counterfeit hair for the monosyllable." (Monosyllable was Grose's reference to the woman's crotch, lol). Now right after his brief little definition of the merkin is an interesting addition that states, "See Bailey's Dictionary". So what did I do? I went over and looked into Bailey's Dictionary (the one published in 1675 which wasn't cleaned up in later additions) and found his definition of the Merkin. And guess what? It wasn't a pubic wig at all, but this: "A dangerous port in Cornwall called such from the many storms arising there." When I read that, I immediately thought, "Wait. What real connection does the merkin have to 'malkin' other than 'mop' and 'lower class woman?' How did they make this connection? They had no texts or documentation they used to make that connection and they even stated that as such. It's an assumption that merkin is a corruption of malkin. But here's the thing. It was noted in many texts back in the day that men who recognized a woman as wearing a merkin was dealing with a dangerous situation...meaning she was disease ridden and covering it up. And so this dangerous "port" where "storms arise" known as "Merkin" seems like a much bigger connection to the actual origin of the word merkin than "malkin." WOW. It's very possible I have stumbled upon something that has baffled scholars for decades...heh...that is if merkins were a subject of interest to great historical scholars...

Until next time,

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Courtesans

2010-10-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

My dearest Reader,
I thought it time I cover the subject of courtesans. There is a lot of misconception as to how a courtesan went about her business and how society reacted to her. So I shall try my darnest to ensure we dispel with those dang misconceptions.

Though these women may have started on the streets, they were different from others not just in beauty but also in wit and the ability to entertain any man with the flick of a wrist while making it all look very respectable. She was a woman who dared break the rules with men and women alike. It is the high etiquette of whoring and the art of eroticizing not only her behavior in the bedchamber but her whole way of life. All of her lends to the idea of pleasing men whilst pleasing herself.

Beautiful, neat, clean, fashionable, cunning at the card table and games, proficient in arithmetic, language, be able to recite poetry, play at least two musical instruments and be a proficient singer. A true courtesan lives respectably in the sense that she would never be seen in a brothel or bartering herself on the streets like a common whore. Any and all terms and conditions were made into legal documents, drawn up and witnessed by lawyers. She had the business acumen of a merchant capitalist. She survived on her woman’s wit in a man’s world. They take control of their own lives knowing it comes at a high cost. The most successful courtesans were those that were able to distinguish themselves from every other pretty face.

Courtesans were admired, emulated, courted and even wed within the realm of London society since the 1700’s and yet readers and writers alike have a modern way of thinking that is warped. While other parts of the world had laws and regulations that kept courtesans in their place, no such limitations existed in London. Even in 1879 when French courtesan and actress Sarah Bernhardt came into London and attended the theatre, she was publicly hailed by all. Some even physically knelt before her, including several men of the aristocracy. She was invited to dinners and rides in Rotten Row alongside nobility by top London society. Not to say that people weren’t outraged by this, but to say that these women were outright shunned is a bloody lie. A courtesan was only really considered dangerous to society because she leveled out the playing field between all classes, not just financially but morally. What if respectable women wanted to be independent too? Then what?

These women sought more than money, they sought independence and power in a man’s world and knew how to bring men to their knees not just physically but emotionally while making them pay for it. Many rose from the beds of their protectors into the ranks of aristocracy, though many also snubbed marriage to such men for they knew the moment they submitted to matrimony, they revert to a sense of powerlessness. To rise in the ranks of society as a courtesan, she had to frequent places of society, as well as best display all of their assets, while demonstrating refinement. Having her own theatre or opera box was key. It was an investment similar to taking out a billboard. She also attended pleasure gardens, halls, masquerades, rode her horse, mingling publicly with people well below herself. People not only tolerated it, there were crowds of men and women of all classes and quality who gathered to witness her public displays. She was a celebrity in her own right usually made a celebrity by an aristocrat who had ‘discovered’ her.

She attended dance halls to upkeep business or start it. The most luxurious and fashionable of dance halls during the Victorian era was the Portland Rooms, known as Mott’s, where the most expensive courtesans sought customers between midnight and four or five in the morning. A dress code was enforced: gentlemen not wearing dress coats and white waistcoats were refused admission. Skittles was known to frequent Mott’s, even though she was one of the highest paid courtesans of her time. It was all about building her brand. Men who wanted to engage her, usually sent other men to her door asking if she was interested. Think of grade school all over again...

A well to do courtesan had to do more than look good, she had to live the lifestyle she was selling herself to. She could have up to as many as thirty servants and some were known to boast not one, not two, but THREE chefs, not including the kitchen staff. All servants were attired in elaborate, expensive liveries. Her home was decorated with fresh flowers at all times, all the rooms were scented with patchouli and vetiver. Every room held the most expensive and latest in furnishings. Her china alone would put the Queen’s set to shame. She kept a carriage and four AND several other vehicles that would best display her as she rides. She was never vulgar in appearance and she looked like a woman of the first rank. She enhanced her beauty with rouge, milk of roses, strawberry water and even used the ridiculously expensive pearl powder available for a guinea an ounce to enhance complexions. If she had freckles, she covered them like any other respectable lady.

Just her upkeep each year from milliner to hats, shows, stays, perfume, jewelry, and hosiery alone could be worth 8,000 pounds. Which is nearly half a million dollars a year, not including housekeeping, servant’s wages, furniture, travelling, horses, theatres, opera and any form of entertainment. She had to have skills of laying out a dinner party to match those of erotic technique. The way she sat and spoke and arranged the folds of her gown exceeded that of nobility.

Cora Pearl is quoted as saying, “My independence is my real fortune.” In 1864, the craze in Paris was for women to have bright red hair, which they obtained by applying a mixture of ammonia and powdered brick dust. Cora Pearl whose hair was dark, was the first to unfurl the fashion in London. She even dyed her dog blue to match one of her outfits (unfortunately, the dog died shortly afterward....) There's much more to cover on this subject, but we can't have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. I promise to touch on courtesans more throughout the coming months.
Until next time...
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Beggar's Benison

2010-09-01T01:10:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
Ever heard of Beggar's Benison? (Without googling it, that is?) I'll be vastly impressed if you have. Obviously, because I am dedicating an entire post to it, you already know what it involves...you guessed it...sex! Beggar's Benison was a Scottish Sex Club founded in 1732 by John McNachtane (no...he's not pictured above). The picture above is more of a toast to its crazy members. And crazy they were.

So...let's start our little story of how this sex club came to be. Benison means blessing. James V was a notorious shagger and it goes back to being a tip of the hat to him. Supposedly, he had a beggar woman carry him over a river because he didn't want to get his feet wet (what a man). After the woman got paid for her noble deed (and no doubt shagged, as well), she supposed said to him: "May your purse naer (never) be toon (empty) and your horn (penis) aye (always) be in bloom (erect)." How would you like to be transported to those days, eh? Where you don't know if people are insulting you or coming on to you? Smirk. This saying got tweaked by the founding members and their motto became "May your prick nor purse never fail." After all, you need a hard on AND money to make the magic happen.

The members of Beggar's Benison delighted in being shocking. During the 1730's, the latest health scare was...oh dear god...masturbation. So these male members (not to be confused with the lower half, ehm) of polite society decided to get together and give society the ultimate FU. Aside from creating an exclusive sex club for the upper class, they masturbated each other and before each other to demonstrate how good for one's health it really was. Sexy, eh? I could imagine all the grunting going on behind closed doors...

This exclusive sex club grew steadily in popularity and soon had branches located in Edinburgh, Glasgow and St. Petersburg. Yes. It had become what we define a 'chain.' They gave the term make 'merry' a whole new meaning. For those of you that don't know, 'merry' in the 1700's was a euphemism for sex. Heh. Who were these members? King George IV of England many aristocrats both English and Scottish. Members would perform sexual acts on each other and watch local girls dance naked as well as set women 'spread eagle' for scientific observation. They had communal heavy drinking and indulged in outlandish food like sheep heads with fruit bursting from the mouth and ears.

Now before you start thinking these were just a bunch of guys having sex with girls in the 'club' - you are wrong, wrong, wrong. Aside form jerking each other off and discussing their sexual encounters with women and all of the fantasies, the club itself wasn't used to host orgies with women. Sex was a serious subject worthy of scientific inquiry to these men (any man, I say...). They kept detailed records of discussions and their inquiries into 'sex.' Such as? One talk in 1753 strongly argued for contraception for a woman so she could be in complete control of her sexuality. Impressive, yes? Allow me to quote their argument: "Sexual embrace should be independent of the dread of conception which blasts the prospects of the female." Ah. Which means, they are arguing that a woman is less likely to engage men due to her fear of conception and as such she should totally HAVE contraception. So she'd be more willing to spread her legs. A tad selfish? You freakin' bet. But hey. They were far more progressive than the rest of the men around them.

Female pubic hair fascinated these members (actually, all men in those days were obsessed with it). Supposedly, the club's most prizes possession was a wig made out of all of the pubic hairs of King George's mistresses. During special ceremonies, each member was allowed to kiss the wig (I'm already spitting at the thought) and one lucky member would actually wear it for the night. Seriously. I know I would have never taken any of these men seriously. Especially the one wearing the female pubic hair wig...gah! When this prized wig was supposedly given away to a competing sex club by a disgruntled member, everyone raged and panicked...until King George enthusiastically supplied another one. Men. Gotta love their pride and their spirit.

Until next time,
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

The History of Contraceptives

2010-08-01T17:03:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
Throughout history, women have scrounged for ways to unearth the greatest skill no man seemed to be able to understand: effective contraception. Looking back on history, men's only real effective form of contraception in history (prior to the 1900's) was what was known as onanism. Meaning spilling sperm outside the womb. Big freakin whoo-hoo, I say. It was believed by many throughout history that a man would suffer from hearing, memory and eyesight loss and even consumption if he DID NOT spill their seed into the womb.

Needless to say, it became obvious to our fellow women that men really weren't all that reliable when it came to preventing pregnancy. It was up to her and her alone to prevent that pregnancy. Times haven't really changed ALL that much...have they? So let us quickly delve into the idea of contraception.

Egyptians were pretty savvy and were the first (at least documented) to create the idea of contraception. They realized that if something were "inserted" thus blocking the inner area of interest, pregnancy could be avoided. What exactly did they use to create this blockade? Sun dried crocodile dung smeared with honey. It was inserted into the vagina and poof! You had a diaphragm. And freakin yeast infections, no doubt. *Shuddering*

It became pretty clear to Greeks that abstaining during certain periods of time when a woman was most fertile was important to the prevention of pregnancy. Only...Greeks believed women were most fertile during menstruation itself. Hence the tradition of not engaging a woman during menstruation (and not just because it's messy and gross). Doctors were unable to provide women with real effective and "safe" days until the 1930's.

Constant misunderstanding of the female body and how it worked up until the 1930's meant women had to rely on potions and treatments and whatever the hell they could get their hands on. Trial and error allowed them to determine what was passed on from generation to generation and what was a bad idea. Men weren't all that helpful, either. Male Greeks believed drinking the water blacksmiths used to dip their hot iron tools into was a form of birth control. What moron actually thought this was effective most likely never drank the water himself. Gives a whole new meaning to the term "Must be something in the water."

Throughout history, other methods of contraception included mixing in urine with food or drinks, mercury, and arsenic. All to be ingested and were praised as being very effective. It was. It made a woman sterile and caused brain damage. Only they didn't know that. They just knew it worked. Other methods included "dislodging" the sperm. Greeks had methods of having a woman jump backwards several times. The whole not letting the sperm spatter the womb simply wasn't all that popular. Which again left a female to do all the jumping. Backwards.

Prostitutes since the 1500's were known to use methods of douches to "clean out" the sperm.
But the whole barrier idea seemed to be the most popular and most used. Soft wool soaked in lemon juice and/or vinegar would be lodged up into the area. Beeswax was also used, rolled and shaped to fit into the area. Lemons sliced in half and inserted was also considered effective, due to the acidity that killed the sperm and the lemon itself that created a barrier from the sperm. Believe it or not, thimbles and wooden "objects" were also crammed up in there, though its popularity died quick. Can you guess why? If you can't, I dare you try it and see if you last during a session.

Other methods throughout history include women tying weasel testicles to their legs during sex. Attractive? No. Effective? No. So why did they try it? Because some moron told them it worked. Think of the diet fads of today. People are willing to try anything. The closed buds of opiums were also used as diaphragms. Heaven only knows if a female was even conscious during intercourse because of side effects, but hey. It wasn't about her pleasure anyway, was it?

Since the middle ages, herbal preparations were created to "bring on" a woman's menses. Meaning, almost like a morning after pill. Only it wasn't usually taken the morning after, but during "the scare." Plants like Calamint, Cypress, Agrimony, Horehound, Juniper, Rue and Safe were passed on for generations. Women would create special brews (teas, in theory) with these plants and drink the mixture to bring on their menses.

The first published book to assist in such things was CULPEPER'S COMPLETE HERBAL. It was published in the 1600's and recommended using eringo, sea holly, black hellebore and royalpenny. If boiled and then drank, it brought on menses. Which meant, it was a form of self-abortion. In cases where such remedies were not effective, there were brutal backstreet abortionists, which the kitchen knife technique which scarred the womb and not known to them, prevented future pregnancies (if it didn't kill them). Inducing a miscarriage by herbal or any other mean, however, because a statutory offence for the first time in history in England, in 1803. This law was ironically passed by men who also believed spilling outside the womb was lethal to a man's health.

While condoms had been around since the early 1600's, it wasn't used for contraception but prevention of disease. Casanova was the first to use condoms for contraception. Condoms became more popular for the use of contraception with Mr. Goodyear, who in the 1860's created the "rubber" condom, crushing the whole intestine made condom with his invention. And yes, it's the same Goodyear who made tires. Women have come a long way with regard to contraception, but one thing hasn't changed since the beginning of time. Almost 95% of birth control is imposed on the female, not the male. There are no "birth control pills" for men. No IUDs for their cocks. No special drinks or potions. They either get their tubes snipped, pull out at the right time or use a condom. And most men complain about the inconvenience of all of the above. It's enough to make a woman think "Hmmm." And get pissed.

Until next time.
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

The Art of Hiving

2010-07-01T08:58:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

Quick question: What does a handkerchief, honey, bees and a woman's vagina have in common? Ah...that is the beauty of history. There are always hidden little secrets throughout history to be exposed (pun intended) by those most fascinated by it. We all know about really bizarre sexual antics people conduct today (do I need to name them?) Which is why it shouldn't surprise anyone that the Victorians had some really BIZARRE ideas as to what was considered sexually exciting or beneficial. One sexual art in particular was known as the Art of Hiving. It was specifically for virgins who wanted to remain virgins but wanted to experience ecstasy in its truest form without a man. Men be scared. Be very scared. Or rather...I should say, "Women, be scared. Be very scared. And DON'T DO IT!"

Curious? That's good. You should be. Any concept as to what this involves? I'm sure you have SOME idea, but instead of putting it into *my* words, I will allow you to step into history and experience it as someone from 1873 would have.

Here is the excerpt from Harper's Bizarre issue from March of 1873 chronicles:

"A table spoon of honey is dabbed on the vagina with a silk handkerchief. The jar containing the bees is then placed under the honeyed canal attracting the insects. I observed this ritual in the back room of a playhouse in Kensington. A young woman, who shall remain nameless as to conceal her good name, prepares to receive the four insects. Sharp stings yield cries of pain and eventually tears. The practice of hiving has been advertised as originating in the Orient as a way to receive pleasure whilst maintaining chastity. Advertisements in newspapers trumpet sayings like "intense ecstasy" and "superior than virile males." The Archbishop of Canterbury has condemned the craze calling it "Ungodly." The Queen has made no officially comment, but rumors circulate in taverns that midnight shipments of bee hives have entered Buckingham Palace..."

I have a feeling a man in the orient thought it'd be funny to mess with the Brits who were all freakin' uptight...It didn't take long before these circulating advertisements were considered infomercials gone wrong....needless to say, if a gal of those times REALLY wanted to experience ecstasy whilst retaining her chastity, it's called MASTURBATION PEOPLE. Aren't you glad we only have Twilight book/movie fads and not Hiving fads? Of course you are.

Until next time...

Much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Venus Unmasked

2010-06-01T02:03:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

Prior to the prudery of the Victorian era that then smudged and suffocated and warped our present way of thinking about sex, passion and pleasure, there was a world that frolicked in endless bawdy ways. Prior to the Victorians, views toward pleasure was held in a more lush and flavorful light. There was an edgier sense of freedom that even we ourselves lack today.

One of my favorite books to reflect that bawdy playfulness I am referring to is VENUS UNMASKED which was compiled by Leonard de Vries and Peter Fryer. The book is well out of print (1967) but if you ever happen to get your hot little hands on it, you'll be in for quite a treat and it's worth whatever money you spend on it. This salacious 225 page book contains the most popular literature to have been scribed, read and shared by Londoners throughout the 1700's. The most fascinating aspect of this book is it echoes what people loved to read most about. And what do you think that was??? Love and sex. Lots and lots of sex. Think of the modern historical romance (such as what I write, with sex and all) being written by novelists back then, though set in their 'contemporary' world. These works included MEMOIRS OF A WOMAN OF PLEASURE (1749...also known as Fanny Hill), PAMELA (1740), and CLARISSA (1747) -- to name a few. Heroines found themselves compromised by heroes and villains alike and anyone else who happened to be passing by, lol.

People were fascinated by sex. When they weren't *doing it*, they were *reading it*. And the 1700's wasn't really the starting point...it was actually a boiling point that peaked into the early 1800's and was crushed by moralizers and quacks. Prior to the 1700's itself, there were various "sexologists" who published sex manuals for the public to purchase and learn from and have fun with. One of the most popular sexologists of his time was Nicolas Venette (1622-1698). And yes, he was French. His work 'Tableau de l'amour considere dans l'estat du mariage' which was published in Amsterdam in 1687. He was a royal professor who specialized in surgery and anatomy who had studied medicine in France and then found his way into Portugal and Italy. Needless to say, his visits to Italy is what *inspired* him (no surprise). He came across various medical manuscripts that had been published and circulated in the Dark Ages as well as sex manuals that had been published by a certain Sinibaldi in Rome in 1642. Nicolas was inspired to mesh all of them together while giving his own take on sex. Only the guy decided not to put his name on it. Instead, he published it under the name of Salocini (yeah, blame it on those Italians, seeing French are always so bashed). It was a huge success, being translated into German, English and Dutch and going into several print runs. It was published in English as THE MYSTERIES OF CONJUGAL LOVE REVEALED and the author was simply known as 'The Gentleman.' (Heh...yeah...right).

The popularity of the book, however, demonstrated that people really, really REALLY wanted to know more about sex. Women and men alike were buying the book in droves. Although people started to bitch that the results weren't quite what they expected...(and personally, I don't blame them). Are you curious to know what was in his *sex manual*? But of course you are. Are you curious enough to want to read excerpts? But of course you are. Should I make you beg?? No. You won't have to (it's not worth it).

So here it is (brace yourself):

"Too long or too big members are neither proper for copulation (so big is bad? You have to wonder if Nicolas was, you know, LACKING), so that for convenience a man's part ought to be middle sized."

He goes on:

"Admitting it true what physiognomists say, viz. that men with big noses have also stout members (damn...this is still circulating even after hundreds of years!), as also that they are more robust and courageous than others; we have no reason to wonder at Heliogablus's making choice of big nosed soldiers, that he might be able to undertake great expeditions with small numbers (no comment) and oppose his enemy with great vigour. But at the same time, he did not take notice that well-hung men are the greatest blockheads and the most stupid of mankind (jealous much?)"

And he goes on:

"At what age a young man and a young woman ought to marry? Count a man perfect at 25 and a woman at 20, for such a man wants nothing at that age to content a woman (what?). His seed is fertile and will be able to get a woman with child even against the will of the owner (where the freak was his editor?! Editor!!!)."

And he goes on:

"When we caress a woman after dinner, we recruit in some measure our forces at supper, and increase them with sleep the ensuing night. Whereas if we kiss after supper, we have nothing but the night's rest to reimburse us of what we are out of pocket. (Sigh...I don't get it). The greater the pleasures are, the more pain they cause. I have known men, who not being entirely recovered from illness, have died after caressing their wives (dude, stop, stop!). However, if we must commit an error, 'tis better to do it upon a full than empty stomach."

And he goes on and on:

"How many times one may amorously caress one's wife in a night (can we get some female perspective in on this please?). Vanity is a passion natural to man (AMEN). Whence I am apt to believe that the efforts we are able to make near a woman in one night cannot amount to above four or five times (so there you have it...let your husbands know that 4-5 times a night is a respectable number Nicolas approves of).

And last but not least (because honestly, he's beginning to annoy me):

"Whether the man feels more pleasure in enjoyment than the woman. There is no doubt that our privy parts are more sensible than those of woman, whereas the women's parts are fleshy and less sensible (book burning anyone?). We also have a firmer mind, and stronger fancy than women. The filaments of our brain are more stretched and hard, and when we love, 'tis with greater force and spirit. Women to the contrary are of a more inconstant mind, and weaker fancy. The fibres of the brain are softer and more flexible, and though they appear to love more ardently, they do not feel as much as we do. (I'd like to bring this guy back from the dead and introduce him to the modern woman and see if he ever gets any ever again)."

There are pages and pages and PAGES that go on just like this. And this manual was supposed to *help* people. It was no wonder people started turning to fiction....ehm.

And on that note, until next time...

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

The Incredibly Naughty Life of Casanova Part 3

2010-05-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
This Part 3 will finish the mini series pertaining to Casanova. Though I gave you glimpses, I highly recommend you consider reading his memoirs. He went a little crazy (wrote freakin volumes and volumes...) but the stories the man has to tell were amazing and naughty, naughty, naughty. VERY well worth the read. Wicked grin. That said, let us jump right in and finish his sweeping history with a grand bow.

The above mask you see is taken from a museum in Venice which Casanova himself graced during his lifetime. Oh, to have worn the same mask as he and to have peered through those eyes! As Casanova grew older, his adventures slowly dwindled (most likely because his looks were fading and the cock wasn't what it used to be...). But to the very end, he never quite felt at home anywhere or felt as if he could rest in any one lady's arms. Throughout his lifetime he had done everything a man could ever hope (and things men usually avoid). He bed hundreds of women, dined with the finest and the lowest, fought several duels (and lived to tell about it each time), suffered from 11 venereal diseases (including gonorrhoea, soft chancre, herpes, and syphilis...sexy, eh?), survived smallpox, epistaxis, pneumonia, gout, malaria (several times), was a priest (he should have stayed one...), a librarian, a chemist, a novelist, a military man, con-man, pimp, prisoner, dancer, cook, lottery organizer, lawyer, spy, mathematician, violinist, playwright, police agent, mining consultant, silk manufacturer, spoke several languages (the more he knew, the more he could romance, after all), had seen most of Europe...He truly had done and seen it all, which -- despite the diseases -- is why Casanova TO ME is my favorite historic male figure. He was anything but perfect, but he had humor, genius and knew how to listen to a woman (and not just for the sake of wanting to get some...)

But as he grew older, Casanova's body started feeling the rough life he had led. He was one to have always thought nothing, not even a venereal disease could keep him down (or his pants up). And he started longing gazing on days of old. Days when Prince de Ligne once wrote to him saying, "One is never old with your heart, your genius and your stomach."
In February 1798, he fell very ill when mercury treatments were obstructing his urinary tract (ouch...). Despite having never been close to family and that they had long passed on, he found that he had acquired many close friends (men and women alike) who all flocked to his side and assist as his deteriorating state. They would send him craw fish for craw fish soup, which was Casanova's favorite dish his whole life (in his memoirs he claims his mother had often craved it during pregnancy and he had acquired a taste for it long before he ever came into the world).

On On June 4th 1798, at the age of 73, he died. His last words were, "Almighty God, and you witnesses of my death, I have lived as a philosopher and die as a Christian."

In closing, instead of leaving it upon his death, I would like to give a playful wink to the man and end this post with a few of his own quotes that I feel represent this amazing, true Renaissance man.
"The same principle that forbids me to lie, does not allow me to tell the truth."
"I have concluded that my conduct has depended more on my character than on my mind, though I struggle between the two."
"I am writing MY LIFE to laugh at myself and am succeeding."

And so I bring an end to the incredibly naughty life of Casanova. If you haven't read his volumes MY LIFE, do so. It's one of my favorite historic collections.

Until next time, Much love,
Delilah Marvelle

The Incredibly Naughty Life of Casanova Part 2

2010-04-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
I really find it difficult to even *try* to capture the sweeping life of Casanova. Because he was SUCH a freak when it came to life. There wasn't an adventure or a woman or a man or an opportunity he didn't jump on and there wasn't a single person that put the fear of God into him. The one person who was capable of even tightening his collar (his Grandmother) had died, leaving him nothing but a house and furniture. With his collar snapped off and his poor Grandmother buried six feet under he sold everything, and continued with his role as a 'priest' by going to live with his 'father' Grimani in Venice. Not because Casanova had a fondness for the man (they loathed each other...) but because the man had a delectable actress living in his house by the name of La Tintoretta who was known more for her role in bed than good acting on stage.

When Casanova's mother who was living in Poland discovered her son, the 'priest' was living with an actress, she arranged for Casanova to be sent to a Theological Seminary at Murano. 'Tis difficult to convey who was more displeased, the Seminary that had to deal with Casanova or Casanova himself. Hoping to lash back at his mother, during his interview and the admission process, despite being a Doctor of Law, he pretended he had no formal education or training at all. So Casanova was sent to the level entry of learning with much younger students who didn't even know how to read... Needless to say, they quickly figured out Casanova knew a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. To make it worse, one of the younger seminary boys took a fancy to Casanova and to Casanova's astonishment crawled into Casanova's bed one night looking for a little somethin' somethin' to which Casanova denied, for whilst experimental and known to frolic with men on occasion, wasn't feeling THAT experimental at the moment. The boy was naturally upset, informed the school master of Casanova's 'devious' tastes for boys and Casanova found himself whipped and banished. He saw it as a blessing, tossed being a priest to the wind, and commenced a long road of romantic adventures.

The stories are endless. Hell, I could post every month for the next year and STILL not go through all of Casanova's romantic adventures. But I will highlight several of the adventures that I feel best represent him. At Pasiano, he found himself traveling alone in a coach with a recently wed young and beautiful bride traveling to join her husband in another city. He fell immediately in lust. During the ride, as a violent thunderstorm set the stage, he noted that the woman jumped every time there was a crack of thunder and appeared frazzled and frightened by the nature of the storm as their carriage rolled through it. He took advantage of it. He gently offered the woman a few assuring and comforting words, then a few assuring and comforting pats, and then altogether pulled her right onto his lap and held her in his arms, assuring her with a few kisses. Seeing women back then didn't don any 'underwear' the rest was freakin easy for the guy and thunder masked all the noise...

Now if you think Casanova only had a thing for the ladies, think again. He also had a thing for men. He truly enjoyed anything having to do with sex and was always willing to try anything and everything. One of the most interesting experiences he had was after a wedding ball, he noticed a senator, whilst walking past Casanova had 'accidentally' dropped some money, when in fact he was using it to pick up Casanova. Casanova picked up the money and followed the man home, only to find the man had two women waiting and wanted them 'all' to have a good time. Needless to say, Casanova stayed. What is perhaps the most fasctinating aspect about Casanova is this: (and I'm quoting from the book, CASANOVA by John Masters because it is cited so beautifully) "To some women he made love because their female bodies aroused his male desire, to others because he would get money or advantage out of it, to others because he fell in love, and to yet others because it was expected of him and he'd be sneered at if he didn't."

Seeing he was involved with so many women, you'd best believe there were duels. Lots of them. I'll share my favorite one. On March 4th whilst in Warszawa in Poland (yes, the man got around), he went to the ballet and snuck into the one of the ballerina's stage room looking to woo her. In comes some pompous Polish Count by the name of Branicki and announces that he is in love with her and that Casanova had back the fuck off (in tone, probably not words). Casanova who decided the girl wasn't really worth his time anyway, tells the man "Take her." This Count sneered at him and called him a "Venetian coward." Think of BACK TO THE FUTURE and how Michael J.Fox always got riled up whenever someone called him a Chicken. Same thing. Casanova rolled up his sleeves and told the man to meet him outside. The Count never showed, which only further pissed Casanova off because the man got away with calling him a coward. So Casanova went to the man's house and threw down the glove, challenging him to a duel for publicly slandering his name (hey, the dude had a reputation to uphold with the ladies). Despite dueling being illegal in Warszawa, the Count accepted the duel and insisted on pistols (for he had heard Casanova was quite the fencer). When they agreed on a time and a place, Casanova showed up with only the clothes on his back without so much as a servant that would have served as second. Branicki, on the other hand, showed up in a carriage with 'six with coachmen, two grooms leading saddle horses, a lieutenant general and an armed footman inside the carriage with him.' A total of 14 horses and 15 men to deal with ONE Venetian coward. Needless to say Casanova was amused. He went in relaxed whilst Branicki was nervous as hell. They both shot and both got shot. Casanova in the hand, whilst Branicki dead center. All 15 men jumped on Casanova and tried to kill him (not very fair...eh?) but Branicki had enough voice within him (and honor) to call off his men and was whisked away to a surgeon. Though Branicki almost died, fortunately for Casanova he lived. Because magistrates were waiting to arrest Casanova if the Count didn't pull through. And so everyone in Warszawa now knew Casanova was no "Venetian coward" but rather a good shot.

And so ends Part 2 (sadly). Next month, return for the conclusion and Part 3 of The Incredibly Naughty Life of Casanova.
Cheers and Much Love,
Delilah Marvelle

The Incredibly Naughty Life of Casanova Part 1

2010-03-01T07:40:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,

No. The above is not really Casanova, but rather, David Tennant 'playing' Casanova. But I feel it captures the spirit of Casanova beautifully. That devious sparkle and lounging about, not with one woman but two (and sometimes as many as five!) at every turn.

Casanova, what everyone generically knows of him, has been dubbed the ultimate lover. Though I should probably point out that the notion of him being "the ultimate lover" came from him and him alone through his memoirs, THE HISTORY OF MY LIFE. It is a very long history, might I add, so long (volumes and volumes and volumes), I couldn't have possibly done a single post on Casanova. He requires several. As a quick note, however, as wonderful as his memoirs are in relating history, he cannot readily be trusted to relating his OWN history. There are truths sprinkled throughout pertaining to his life, but the one thing every woman has to realize about Casanova is that he always took the ordinary and made it extraordinary. That's why all women loved him. He never settled for ale. He always wanted champagne and wanted everyone to drink it with him. Even though he couldn't afford to buy it...

So let us disregard Casanova's take on his life and delve into the REAL Casanova.

Giacomo Casanova was born on April 2nd 1725 in Venice, Italy. He was born unto a struggling family of actors/dancers (Gaetano Giuseppe Casanova and Zanetta Farussi), setting the stage for what his life would become. An act. It is believed, however, that Zanetta only married Casanova's father and that Casanova himself may have been the son of Michele Grimani who was the owner of the S. Samuele theatre where Zanetta and Gaetano both played. Casanova himself believed he was Grimani's son, mostly due to the fact that he always said things like, "My Mother came back to Venice with her husband." He never refers to Giacamo Casanova as his own father, even though Giacamo was married to his mother. Which is fascinating. According to other sources, Zanetta's next child was not Giacamo's child, either. So as you might imagine, Casanova didn't follow in the footsteps of his father...but rather his MOTHER. The second child, who was Casanova's brother (or half brother) was born in London in 1727 as was said to have been fathered by the Prince of Wales (later King George II), as Zanetta was the Prince's mistress. Casanova had a total of four siblings. Three brothers and one sister.

Casanova's mother left all of her children in the care of her mother in Venice to travel and act all over Europe. It impacted Casanova greatly and in some Freudian aspect, may be why he pursued women so damn much. He was symbolically pursuing his own mother and wanting 'her love.' Casanova himself was very ill as a child and suffered from constant nosebleeds (there's a hero for you!). He remembers his grandmother bringing in 'beautiful women' to try and cure him of his nosebleeds using gifts and incantations. It didn't work but he fondly remembers it and was grateful to every woman who visited. Is it any wonder that with a missing mother and a beautiful woman seeking to cure Casanova's 'ailment' lent itself to the creation of a man who sought to emotionally balm himself with beautiful women? Casanova's nose bleeds didn't stop and eventually a doctor was brought in who insisted Casanova needed a change of air as the density of air in Venice was pushing out the blood from his nose. With Casanova's 'father' now dead, Zanetta, through letters, turned pleadingly to Grimani for assistance in getting him out of Venice. Which lends itself to the story that Grimano most likely WAS Casanova's father, as Zanetta only turned to Grimani whenever Casanova needed assistance, but not when any of her other children needed assistance. Casanova, with the help of his 'father', was moved to Padua. Casanova felt further isolated and felt as if no one wanted him anymore and were using his nosebleeds as an excuse to get rid of him.

One thing that is very striking about Casanova is how sensitive he was about the way people treated him. He paid attention to it and never forgave or forgot anything. He soon found himself in a boarding house with a Slav woman whom he claimed had a mustache and only fed him thin soup, a bit of dried cod and apples. He hated his sleeping arrangement so much (due to the beds having lice AND fleas and three other boys...) that he slept in his classroom instead. He was eventually taken pity upon by his teacher, Dr. Gozzi, who took him into his own home for he thought Casanova had incredible potential as a student. Casanova claims Dr. Gozzi (who was a priest) was a suppressed sodomite, as the man appeared to be 'frightened' of women. This priest lived with his parents and his sister, Bettina. Bettina (who was seven years older than Casanova) became Casanova's first obsession. She flirted with him and encouraged him, but Casanova was only eleven. That didn't stop Bettina. She decided to call him into the house and instructed him to take a bath. Casanova, at the age of eleven, discovered there was more use to his penis than pissing. He experienced his first orgasm at the age of eleven at Bettina's 'hands.' But just as he was thinking he had found his true love, along comes a hairy man of fifteen and shacks up with Bettina, crushing his dreams. Casanova was so devastated (at the age of eleven) that he actually considered murdering them both. Bettina caught smallpox, however, and he did, too, thwarting his plans, and ridding him of his passion once and for all. Bettina ended up marrying two years later, whilst Casanova carried the physically memory of Bettina for the rest of his life: three pockmarks on his face.

At the age of twelve, Casanova entered the University of Padua (yeah, 12 was the old 20 back then...). University life, however, created what would forever be the Casanova we all know. He partied, instead of studying, and gambled so much (at the age of 13) that his grandmother had to yank him out of University life and bring him back to Venice where he was admitted into the order of the Catholic clergy. He was expected to wear a robe, carry no sword and was forbidden to duel. But that was all that was expected of him. However, even THAT was too much constraint for Casanova. He never seemed to get along with any of his patrons or priestly tutors and enjoyed drinking a bit too much (although he was not an alcoholic...). At the age of 17, Casanova received his degree of Doctor of Law and that summer stayed with a peasant family whose daughter forever changed the way he understood women. Her name was Lucia. She being 15, he thought she was much too young to seduce. But he adored her and was madly in love with her. They spent nights upon nights together laying in bed talking and laughing and imagining what life was like. Never once did he make his move, though he wanted to. For in his heart, he felt as if he would become a form of Bettina. Forcing a young girl into a game that was not meant to be played by so young a heart. So whilst he loved her, he never once said it or showed it. He parted with her and the family and returned a year later, hoping to reignite what had been between them only to find his beloved Lucia had been seduced by some lecherous bastard and made her pregnant. As a result she was turned out of the house by her family. Casanova was devastated and blamed himself. He believed that if he had been more open in announcing his love, she would have waited and would have not ended up with the horrid life she was now imprisoned to. It created the Casanova we all know and love. From that day forth, he never held back from announcing his intentions to a woman ever again....

Alas, this is where I must end Part 1. There will be a total of 3 parts to Casanova's life. Part 2 will be entering into the debauchery (yay!) and the name he made for himself all across Europe.

Until next time, Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle
P.S. Below, I have added a new feature called Historical Eye Candy. Let me know what you think. Waggling brows...

2 years of naughty history!!!

2010-02-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,
February 1st officially marks two years of my naughty posts!!! In celebration of all things naughty, and for a chance to win one of many fabulous prizes, I am leaving the blog open to you. Tell me which of my posts was your favorite and why and you will be entered to win one of the following:

The Romance Collection: Featuring some of my favorite movies of all time, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, VICTORIA & ALBERT, EMMA, JANE EYRE, LORNA DOONE, THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL, TOM JONES (which is my favorite, favorite, favorite of all!) and IVANHOE.
This is a 14 DVD set (worth $50) I am gifting to one special blogger.

And five book bundle prize packs all autographed by the authors. Yes, that means five people will win 5 books. Those books are LORD OF PLEASURE by Yours Truly, STOLEN SEDUCTION by Elisabeth Naughton, SEDUCED BY SHADOWS by Jessa Slade, CARDS NEVER LIE by Heather Hiestand, and SWEET AND DIRTY by Christina Crooks (and I will warn you, Christina is not only my Critique Partner but one VERY naughty writer. I am a nun in comparison to her...)

Be sure to post anytime during the month!!! I will be announcing all 6 winners on February 28th in the comment section. Return on the 28th and see if you win and how to collect your prize. And next month (March)...scurry back as I intend to be delving into the amazing and dashing life of Casanova himself.

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

The Art of Flagellation

2010-01-01T13:40:00.000-08:00

My dearest Reader,

Happy New Year! Seeing as we have a whole new year of delving into devious content, I thought we would start this glorious new year off with a bang. Or rather, a whip. When it comes to flagellation, much comes to mind to us modern beings. Religious rituals. Punishment. Pain. Lots of pain... Or just plain kinky sex involving a riding crop.

You had best believe I'm here to discuss the last one. Plain kinky sex. Now flagellation itself has been around for a long, long time. Since man pieced together leather and added little decorations to the end of it. But the kinky, sexual aspect doesn't actually make a notable historic appearance until about the Renaissance. And most of it was noted by historians as being found in paintings. That oddly enough, the people who were getting whipped in those paintings, appeared to not be in pain, but rather....pleasure. I'm certain you've seen one of those paintings yourself and thought...hm.

But nothing in history was actually WRITTEN about erotic flagellation until the Italian Renaissance humanist in the 15th century, Pico della Mirandola noted with humor that a particular friend of his (yeah, sure, a FRIEND...wink...) could not find pleasure without the whip. Was he being sarcastic? Or was he for real? Who knows...but the idea was planted. There was an erotic hankering for the whip. That commentary by Mirandola aside, it appeared everyone else seemed to keep their kinky sex lives under wraps. If only the Internet had been created earlier...

In the 1600's, however, things in literature started unexpectedly popping up. In the book THE VIRTUOSO written in 1676 by Shadwell refers to how flagellation in the English Boarding Schools which was used as punishment brought on a generation of savages who acquired quite the taste for more whip in the bedchamber in their later years, long after school was out. Hm. Think school girl WITH a whip. Other forms of literature hint at naughty Italians doing things like treating their wives and mistresses like dogs. Literally. With real collars that went on when the door to the bedchamber closed. I imagine they had sex 'doggy style.' Get it? Heh. Yeah...

So then we move full on into 1700's itself. It was without a doubt a very fascinating time in sexual history. Courtesans who always had a place in history as being BAD BAD BAD, suddenly found themselves 'fashionable' and being GOOD GOOD GOOD. They were able to rise from rags to riches with a mere spread of the legs to the right man. It was all the rage amongst aristocratic men to harbor courtesans and mistresses and flaunt them to their friends and family and do whatever they pleased as long as they had the means to financially please her. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that the 1700's gave way to different sexual art forms. Including fascination with flagellation. In 1718, the book, A Treatise on the Use of Flogging in Venereal Affairs, by John Henry Meibomius was a guide to the erotic science that discussed the belief that there are those BORN with a condition that are stimulated by the rod and can be 'worked up into a flame of lust by blows.' I'm sure people picked up copies and wanted to find out if they themselves were born with this unusual condition. Some probably found they were, whilst others found they were quite....turned off by the idea of pain.

Of course where there is a book that is being sold about such an art, there are ideas springing up from how to make money off of those kinky people (my, times haven't changed all that much, have they?). A flogging machine was patented and sold. A machine that could whip over 20 people at a time. Flogging party anyone? Sounds like fun!

The English in particular were VERY fond of flagellation. So much so that they french dubbed it as the 'English Vice' in the 1700's. Brothels were popping up in London that specialized in flagellation and many competed with each other. One brothel in particular that was popular was entirely dedicated to flagellation. That of Mrs. Berkeley's brothel. So dedicated was she to flagellation, in fact, that she created her own contraptions. One that was particularly popular was known as the Berkeley Horse. And no, it did not look like a horse. It was a padded flat surface with accommodating open areas that allowed men to 'stick' their cock through. It was used in a manner in which the costumer was stripped and placed face down on it then tilted on an angle (think of an easel in which the man is the painting being painted red...quite literally). The man would be placed with his bared ass in the air and genitals through the padded hole. It was advertised by Mrs. Berkeley that whilst a man got whipped with a birch rod by one lady from behind, another lady would be sitting beneath the angled 'horse,' sucking his cock from the other side. So he didn't have to worry about falling over from pleasure OR pain. Mrs. Berkeley's popular warehouse full of gadgets for the pleasure of pain earned her over 10,000 pounds a year, which in the 1700's was a shit full of money (pun intended...). So whilst a prostitute's arm and mouth was sore. Nothing else was. Grin. Mrs. Berkeley probably didn't have problems hiring. After all, a woman gets to whip the crap out of a man AND get paid? Now that is power.

Until next time,

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Aphrodisiacs for freaks

2009-12-01T01:00:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,

Since the beginning of time, humans (namely men...), have been fascinated with the idea that one could arouse those who aren't naturally inclined to being aroused (women...or so men think) and create a form of potency within their body that would cast aside all reason and make inhibition disappear and allow the body to just go wild. No. We're not talking about Viagra...that's modern voodoo. We're talking about an erotic vigor plucked from nature itself by freaks in history who then threw it all into a cauldron and encouraged everyone to consume it, advertising pleasure without restraint. We're talking Le freak c'est chic.

The idea of virility itself has always dominated every male aspect of history since the beginning of time. Since men had cocks, basically. And yes. That's a very LONG time (pun intended). Men have always desperately sought to capture and preserve their phallic obsession through ingenious concoctions found in nature. And what better way to affect the body then to put something INTO said body? Allow Delilah Marvelle to roll up her lace sleeves and present you with some of the freakiest aphrodisiacs known to history. All created in the name of sex. DISCLAIMER: DON'T TRY THESE AT HOME. UNLESS YOU ARE A FREAK. THEN GO RIGHT AHEAD AND REMEMBER TO PLEASE POST YOUR RESULTS HERE.

Absinthe -- A green liqueur made of marjoram, oil of aniseed and other oils, was originally first made in France from the plant Artemisia Absinthium. As fancy as this plant sounds, it's nothing more than a bush of a weed that grows in South Africa and in the mountains across Europe. It's also known as wormwood. Though in England it was also called Green Ginger and Old Woman (hmmmm.....) Greek physicians originally claimed it prevented one from getting drunk but it became quickly known for being a very potent way of acquiring sexual stimulation. Those who ingested too much, however, (those poor fools hoping for that G spot thing) found out that too much of it lead to insanity or death. Nice.

The Broken arm and leg approach -- Ancient Amazons were reported to break the arms or legs of their captives (which they intended to have sex with). No, the idea wasn't a Marquis de Sade approach or to prevent their captives from running away. They simply believed that by rendering of an arm or a leg useless, it sent more blood to the genitals...heh, makes sense...one less area not needing blood sends more blood in desired area. Yes, according to them, "The lame best perform the act of love." Maybe it was more because those poor bastards could only lay there and had to take "it" no matter what...

Ambergris -- Secretion from the intestines of the sperm whale (sperm? Yes, of course men would link it to THAT). Or in less technical terms, I suppose, Sperm Whale shit. In 17th century France courtiers were known to "nibble" on chocolates dipped in ambergris. Madame du Barry supposedly mixed it into a perfume that kept Louis Xv at her side. But then...everyone smelled like shit back in those days anyway... In the Orient it was mixed with coffee. Who needs cream? They didn't. It was also said to magically restore the old into feeling young again.

Flagellation -- Believe it or not, for centuries flagellation was used to "invigorate" the body. Where on earth did this whole idea of pain/pleasure come from? It was noticed in nature how certain animals get "violent" with each other and "like" it. As if getting whipped wasn't enough pleasure to arouse, there were libertines known to soak whips in vinegar to create a whole new meaning to "that tingling sensation." It was found to be very popular in the Orient in particular.

Baking cakes -- 'Patty cake' takes on a whole new meaning with this one...in the middle ages there was a naughty practice of baking one's spiced cakes whilst naked. Whoever baked a cake whilst naked and then allowed said cakes to cool on their naked body was then shared with the one they sought to erotically capture. Excuse me...but is that a pubic hair in my cake?? Remember. If you find a pubic hair in your cake, it means someone has been trying to capture your heart.

Deer Sperm -- It was mixed into foods, drinks or taken just straight up. I guess my only question is how the hell do you get your hands on deer sperm? Oh, wait. Hands. Ew. Never mind.

Dove Brains -- Now this is just wrong. Animal activists were the freak were you back in the Middle Ages?

Flamingo Tongues -- A particular favorite with the Romans. It was served pickled and created hours and hours of stamina. Those Romans. No wonder their empire fell...

14th century remedy for Impotence -- As quoted : "Burdock seeds pounded in mortar. Add left testicle of a three year old goat (wonder what would happen if it were older...), a pinch of powder from the back hairs of a white dog. The hairs to be cut on the first day of the new moon and burned on the 7th day. Infuse all items in a bottle half filled with brandy. Leave uncorked for 21 days so it may absorb the cosmic influences. On the 21st day -- the first of the following moon -- cook entire compound until thick. Then add 4 drops of crocodile semen (ouch...good luck getting THAT), and pass mixture through a filter. Gather liquid and apply to cock and immediately the effects will astound." Huh. (It is noted that since crocodile semen was rare in Europe the semen of a dog can be used instead.) It is said Cleopatra and Alexander had fun with this one...Does that mean Alexander couldn't get it up? No wonder the relationship didn't last.

Hot Mustard Baths -- Used for women to encourage their sexual interest. Can you imagine the yeast infections these women suffered? Ugh.

Necks of Snails -- Another Roman favorite to be consumed with wine. Question. How did one define "the neck" of the snail??? And how many snails had to be butchered to create one mouthful?

Hankerchief wiped with one's own sweat -- Simple and *very* cost effective. Henry the III and Henry IV were known to use this to lure the women they ardently wanted to their side...the fact that it worked had *nothing* to do with the fact that these guys were Kings and stinkin' rich. Get it? Stinkin'? Heh.

Believe it or not, I could go on and on. It truly is amazing to know what people are willing to try in an effort to seduce or create the effects of Viagra back in the day. I say, keep it basic. Eat some chocolate, drink some wine and have at it.

Until next time,

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Don'ts for Wives

2009-11-01T01:03:00.001-07:00

My Dearest Readers,

One of the biggest DON'T for a wife? Don't let your appearance fall to the wayside (see picture above...). Try to maintain said appearance by shaving in all the appropriate places...ehm. That said, allow me to be serious. Last month the men got the don'ts. This month, the women get the don'ts. So without further ado, I give thee the most popular Don'ts for Wives from a book

printed back in 1913 by Blanche Ebbutte.

*"Don't expect your husband to have all the feminine virtues as well as all the masculine ones. There would be nothing left for YOU if your other half were such a paragon." (Why would I want my husband to have feminine virtues? I'd want him to understand me, yes, but be me? Um...no)

*"Don't worry about little faults in your husband which merely amused you in your lover. If they were not important then, they are not important now. Besides, what about yours?" (The trouble is, we didn't have to deal with those seemingly unimportant faults on a daily basis, so I don't know how much I give this particular don't credit)

*"Don't expect your husband to be an angel. You would get very tired of him if he were." (We all love bad boys anyway)

*"Don't interpret too literally the 'obey' of the Marriage Service. Your husband has no right to control your individuality." (Amen)

*"Don't forget to wish your husband good morning when he sets off to the office. He will feel the lack of your good-bye kiss all day." (I say it makes him eager to come home and collect)

*"Don't nag your husband. If he won't carry out your wishes for love of you, he certainly won't because you nag him." (So true, so true)

*"Don't manage your husband too visibly. Of course, he may require the most careful management, but you don't want your friends to think of him as a hen-pecked husband. Above all, never let him think you manage him." (This applies to teenagers, too)

*"Don't say you can't allow smoking in your drawing room, or else don't expect your husband to sit in it. Let his home be Liberty Hall in every respect." (To hell with this way of thinking...the house would be burned down by the end of the week)

*"Don't be satisfied to let your husband work overtime to earn money for frocks for you. Manage with fewer frocks." (Or marry rich...)

*"Don't let him have to search the house for you. Listen to his latch-key and meet him on the threshold." (Beck and call. Beck and call. I would not have survived my marriage back in the day)

*"Don't greet him at the door with a catalogue of the dreadful crimes committed by servants during the day." (If I had servants, I wouldn't be nagging my husband, I'd be thanking him. Every day)

*"Don't be out if you can help it when your husband gets home after his day's work." (Screw this way of thinking. I'd never get out of the house)

*"Don't try to excite your husband's jealousy by flirting with other men. You may succeed better than you want to. It is like playing with tigers and edged tools and volcanoes all in one." (So basically it sounds like he would beat the shit out of you. So don't make him jealous. Good advice)

*"Don't forget to 'feed the brute' well. Much depends on the state of his digestion." (Again, you'll avoid getting the shit beat out of you)

*"Don't persist in having mushrooms on the table when you know they always make your husband ill. They may be YOUR favorite dish, but is it worth it?" (Sounds like we're talking about magic mushrooms here...)

*"Don't let your husband wear a violet tie with grass green socks. If he is unhappily devoid of the colour sense, he must be forcibly restrained." (A woman who goes for a guy who wears violet ties and grass green socks should be the one forcibly retrained)

*"Don't get angry if your husband says that he never tastes cake like that his mother used to make. Write and ask her for the recipe." (Or better yet, just sent your husband home to his mother...)

Truth be told, what was fascinating about the wife don'ts as opposed to the husband don'ts was that it was really nit picky stuff. Nothing I would define as being able to save a marriage...interestingly enough, there were more DON'TS for wives then there were DON'TS for husbands. Hmmmmm......times haven't changed. At all.

Until next time.

Cheer and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Don'ts For Husbands

2009-10-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Readers,

Ah...the joys of having a husband! No matter the century a woman is born unto, she faces the same dilemma every generation has faced before her. Dealing with men. And then...big sigh...marrying them. (Unless of course you are a nun or the sort of girl who prefers girls then this post may simply be used to amuse you). And so it is with every generation, advice is given to both men and women alike as to how to deal with their significant others.

This month's post will be dealing with the advice given to husbands in the year 1913. All in all, you will find, as I have, that the battle of the sexes seems to remain the same. So. For your amusement and reading pleasure, I give thee a few of my favorites out of the bunch:

Excerpted from the 1913 book DON'TS FOR HUSBANDS by Blanche Ebbutt (notice it was written by a lady... Probably because men wouldn't even know where to begin in writing a whole book about the things they SHOULDN'T do to their wives...).

*"Don't drop cigarette ash all over the drawing-room carpet." (Better yet, dude, don't smoke at all)

*"Don't take it out on your poor wife every time you have a headache or are ill. It isn't her fault, you know, and she has enough to do in nursing you ." (Hoozah to THAT)

*"Don't be conceited about your good looks. It is more than probable that no one but yourself is aware of them." (Unless you have a magic mirror on the wall who will tell you that you are the fairest of them all)

*"Don't forget that you are not immortal." (This should be plastered beside the toilet seat)

*"Don't forget your wife's birthday. Even if she doesn't want the whole world to know her age, she doesn't like YOU to forget." (Cuz, dude, it only happens once a freakin' year)

*"Don't allow yourself to become selfish. It is so easy, because wives are mostly ready to give way." (This, of course, has changed much. As a wife, I am not all that ready)

*"Don't refuse your wife's overtures (yes, we're actually talking sex here) when next you meet if you HAVE unfortunately had a bit of breeze (meaning, if you had a bit of tail and cheated on her). Remember it costs her something to make said overtures and if you weren't a bit of a pig (love this!) you would save her the embarrassment by said overtures yourself."

*"Don't expect your wife to hold the same views as yours on every conceivable question. Some men like an echo, it's true, but it becomes very wearisome in time." (Some women like an echo too, you know...)

*"Don't try to be a Sultan (you think?). This is the West and you can't shut your wife away from all the other men." (Especially not whilst you're being a pig and chasing tail)

*"Don't imagine your wife never wants to see any other man than you. However nice she thinks you, it is possible to have TOO much of a good thing." (Unless of course you happen to look like Johnny Depp)

*"Don't omit to cultivate a sense of humour. It will carry you safely past many a danger-signal in the home." (In other words, it'll save your marriage)

*"Don't spend night after night at your club, leaving your wife alone to count the hours until your return." (Or in the bars, stripper joints...)

*"Don't say your wife wastes time in reading, even if she reads ONLY fiction. Help her choose GOOD fiction." (You better help me choose romance, dearest)

*"Don't grudge your wife a new dress because YOU haven't noticed that she needs one." (I like this woman's advice. A lot)

*"Don't be too exacting about your food. If you can't afford an accomplished cook, don't demand accomplished dishes." (I like THIS even more)

*"Don't always tell your children, "Ask your mother," when YOU don't want to be bothered. It may be quite conceivable that SHE doesn't want to be bothered, either." (Amen)

I must say, it is rather sad that the same things are being repeated to our men generation after generation and yet NO ONE SEEMS TO BE LISTENING. Of course...we women aren't angels from the high heavens ourselves. Which is why next month, I will be posting on the DON'TS FOR WIVES. If anyone has any other sort of advice for husbands of THIS day and age, feel free to post. I'm always looking for something to throw at my husband.

Until next time,

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

The History of the "Overcoat"

2009-09-02T22:06:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
I am quite certain that the above picture (a condom made out of animal intestines with a Latin booklet bearing instruction) quickly gave you the impression that I won't be discussing the sort of overcoats a man pulls onto his shoulders but rather the one he pulls over his cock. In England, a condom was referred to in slang terms as an "English Overcoat." But was it really English? Uh...no. Truth be told, no one really knows where its origins come from. Some say it came from the French town of Condom (those French, after all, *were* naughty...). While others claim it came from Dr. Condom who was not only a British doctor but an earl (dubbed the earl of Condom...yes, you laugh, but he really *was* the earl of Condom). Supposedly, the earl of Condom had "perfected" the "sheathing" casing in the 1600's in an effort to protect King Charles II from venereal disease. Myth? Truth? Who knows. Either way, King Charles II was indeed known for womanizing and sticking his cock in places he oughtn't.

The very first appearance of the actual word "condom," however, wasn't seen until 1710. Whatever the case may be, it is a known fact that condoms were around long before the word "condom"came into existence. The Ancient Egyptians had them. Which never really surprised me. If they could mummify bodies, condoms were a piece of cake...or rather a piece of intestine or leather wrapped around the best part of the body. Fortunately for the Egyptian women, the men weren't using papyrus. Snort. Below is an example of an Ancient Egyptian condom. Note these sort of things were never discussed in History class...

Pretty yes? Wouldn't you just *love* to see YOUR man wearing this in the bedroom?? As you might imagine, the cock was placed into the casing and the long piece tied snugly around their waist. After years and years of perfecting the condom, men kept on reducing the length of what held the sheath in place down to a mere pink ribbon that was neatly tied around the root of the cock. The pink ribbon was actually standard for a condom since the 1500's and into the early 1800's. Why pink? Why ever not? The men were wearing it for the ladies.... Though in truth, Gabriello Fallopio (who discovered the existence of the Fallopian tubes) added the pink ribbon to a brand of condom he was perfecting and it had remained the symbol of a condom all the way up until the rubber ones came onto the scene. While many speculate what Ancient Egyptians actually used their condoms for (birth control, venereal disease, ritual), one thing is clear. It was used during sex.

How comfortable were they? I'm guessing they really weren't. After all, some were made out of leather and linen, for heaven's sake. And if they weren't leather or linen, they were usually made out of some animal intestine or another. Without artificial lubricants which fortunately our day and age offers, I imagine there was a whole lot of chaffing involved for a woman. Youch and youch. The reality is it wasn't about preventing the appearance of children but rather disease and obviously a woman's pleasure took the back of the carriage.

Condoms or "condums" (as it was written when it first appeared in the English language), made its appearance among European society in about 100 to 200 AD. Proof of this comes from an old cave painting at Combarelles in France (those French again...) depicting a man and a woman copulating whilst the man's cock is "covered." Of course, many argue that although this has been stated as a fact, there are no pictures that have been offered up to verify if in fact this cave painting does exist. Sounds like a field trip to me. If I ever make it out there, I'll be sure to bring my camera and post it on my blog.

As far as how and why the modern condom became so popular in Europe, it is said we have good old Christopher Columbus and his horny band of men who were "exploring" the "New" World (and its women) to thank for bringing back the 'Great pox." Better known as syphilis. European men started to scramble for ways to protect themselves during the great pox epidemic that broke out and condom shops started popping up as a result.

But here's where all their intelligence ends. Condoms for the most part were bought and "reused." At shops, if a gentleman couldn't afford a condom (for they were rather expensive), he could buy a 'used' one. The men were simply instructed to 'cleanse' the condoms both old and new using milk. This was done not just to clean it but also to 'moisten' it. Aside from the stench the milk no doubt created (eck...), disease kept on spreading and spreading because these morons kept reusing and reusing.

Although there are record from the Middle Ages of clergymen recording methods of birth control which included the use of a condoms, it really wasn't seen as a birth control device until one very popular man made it such....Casanova himself. Aside from using lemons as spermicides, he also used condoms for the same purpose. Of course....Casanova liked to use condom to entertain and shock his guests by blowing up his own condom before ladies and men alike. Nothing like tooting one's horn...Below is a sketch of his 'tooting'...

The days of tying little ribbons around one's cock came to quick end when the rubber was invented by Goodyear (yes, the tire company!) and Hancock (quite the fitting name, don't you think?). The two had discovered 'vulcanisation.' It is a process in which rubber was turned into a thin elastic sheath. They also discovered how to mass produce them and in 1861, in New York City, the very first ad went into Newspapers advertising "Dr. Power's French Preventatives." I guess no one would take it seriously if the word 'French' wasn't thrown in...heh. Of course, the big money didn't last long.

In 1873, the Comstock Law was passed making it illegal to send any "obscene" things through the mail. And obviously condoms fell into that bracket. It gave the Post Office the right to seize every condom that was being sold through the mail via those advertisements. That law, believe it or not, stayed in effect here in the United States up until 1965 after many citizens, including doctors, women and men argued the need. By the 1930's, rubber condoms were being produced at a mass of 1.5 million a day. That's a hellofa lot of sex. And I can only imagine with the population boom how many is in production today...not including variety. So the next time you see a condom, ladies (and yes, you men) bow to it in respect. It's come a long, long way.

Until next time, cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

My humblest apologies but I am out of town and will post on 3rd. Much love, Delilah Marvelle

2009-08-31T22:55:00.000-07:00

THE Lord of Pleasure

2009-08-01T01:00:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

I hereby dub the month of August, LORD OF PLEASURE month. Grin. For those of you that don't know, the second book in the School of Gallantry series is officially out. Though I could technically go on and on about all the reasons as to why you should my book, I'll keep it simple. Just buy it. I promise you won't regret it. That said, I'll skip anymore pressure sales tactics and get back to the point of this blog.

So. In honor of the book's release LORD OF PLEASURE, I decided to focus on a particular man in history who did in fact dote quite ardently upon pleasure (and unlike my own fantabulous hero, Alexander, sadly, this particular man was a royal jerk -- quite literally). There were many, many men in history, mind you, who doted upon all things carnal, from Casanova to Marquis de Sade (though his was a different sort of pleasure...), but allow me to introduce someone many do not necessarily associate with pleasure due to his ruling of the throne being a sparse 10 years. George IV. He was the fourth and last George upon the throne of England from the years 1820-1830 (which are the years I write in). Though his rule was quite short, he enjoyed it immensely and it was more than apparent in his behavior. In his 20's he could dance, sing, hold fascinating and witty conversations that allowed a woman to overlook the fact that he was a....jerk. (In my opinion anyway)

The man loved his women. And how. At seventeen, his first mistresses was an actress by the name of Mary Robinson who was one and twenty. He was fascinated by her and drew her to him not just by being royalty but by promising her 20,000 pounds which he would give her when he came of age. He arranged romantic meetings on an island between Kew and Brentford where they would signal one another from boats with handkerchiefs. He called her his Perdita. But a man of pleasure becomes easily bored and not very long after, he left her before he came of age. And no, he never gave her that glorious sum of 20,000 pounds he had promised (bastard) and it is said poor Mary Robinson had died impoverished.

George was notorious for not only shagging women, but manipulating them (we've all met his type before). The manipulation, it seems, became worse if he fancied himself in love. For instance, when he fell deeply and madly in love with a beautiful widow by the name of Maria Fitzherbert (who was scandalously a Catholic -yes, George was a wild one), and tried to get Maria into his bed, she repeatedly refused him. Would have nothing to do with him. So instead of winning her heart, he decided to manipulate it. He sent his physician to her house in a carriage with an urgent message that the Prince had stabbed himself in a state of disgruntled passion because of her continued refusals and that she was to come with him at once as he was dying. Any good woman with a heart who thinks she is responsible for a dying man whom she refused would have rushed to his side. Which Mrs. Fitzherbert did. She found him upon his bed, quiet and pale and covered with blood, refusing to live because she would not have him. And his intentions were in fact noble. So noble he wished he could have her for his wife. There were many accounts as to where the blood really came from. 1.) That he had in fact stabbed himself, trying to make her feel sorry for him. 2.) had tried to shoot himself in the head, but missed and bounced off his bedpost and grazed his side. 3.) He borrowed some blood off of a poor fellow with the help of his doctor and made a damn good show. Many seem to think number 3 was in fact what had happened. Poor Mrs. Fitzherbert felt responsible knowing all the man wanted was her hand in marriage. She allowed him to put on a ring he borrowed from her chaperone, the duchess of Devonshire, who had accompanied her in the panic.

The Prince recovered quite miraculously and a year later, they were in fact married. It was an illegal marriage due to them both being of separate religions and without having permission of the throne itself. The Prince had to actually bribe a clergyman to marry them. The Prince arrived after dark at her house on Park Lane, the doors were locked and the ceremony took place in her drawing room with only a few witnesses. It was such a scandalous affair that the more than wary witnesses present, who had all signed the marriage certificate had their very names cut off the parchment certificate so that the throne wouldn't come after them. The two witnesses were Maria's uncle, Sir Errington and her brother Jack Smythe. They lived together for many years but seeing that the man needed a legal marriage to settle debts, that is how Princess Caroline came into the picture. And for those of you that don't know, it was anything but a happy marriage.

So why did the prince have debts? Pleasure seekers usually do. The man was known to spend over 20 pounds per week alone on just creams and powders, flowered waters, oils, eau de cologne and bought them in such huge quantities, you'd think he was a woman on a cosmetic binge. Over 20 pounds per week doesn't sound like much, but that would be as if a man today were spending hundreds of dollars a week on cosmetics!! Of course, the man was known to buy everything in large quantities. When he needed a walking stick, it was said he had actually purchased a total of 32 in one day. Why not?

The trouble with pleasure seekers, of course, is that there is no sense of remorse that their actions affect others, as the Prince repeatedly demonstrated by making his wife, Princess Caroline miserable. Of course, he liked to look at it that SHE made him miserable. And accused her of adultery (even though he was jacking off on the side). He also didn't have much tact. When she was very ill and he awaited news as to what would happen with her, it is said that about the same time Napoleon had died and news was brought by a courtier saying: "I have, Sir to congratulate you; your greatest enemy is dead." George's reply was "Is she, by God?"

Needless to say, many were happy to see him go...especially during his last weeks. The man would actually ring for his servants 40 times just to inquire about the time. Even though a watch hung by his side. He simply didn't feel like turning his head. That said, ladies, beware pleasure seekers. Unlike the happily ever after my heroine receives with Alexander in LORD OF PLEASURE, it really doesn't end that way for everyone else...

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Meet Ninon de L'Enclos

2009-07-01T22:36:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
In honor of my "Save the School of Gallantry Campaign," I decided to introduce all of you to the inspiration behind Madame de Maitenon. Yes, my silver haired retired courtesan and headmistress of the School of Gallantry. Meet Ninon de L'Enclos. I stumbled across her name during some research I was conducting for another story and the more I unearthed about this woman, the more I realized I HAD to create an equally fascinating character.

Ninon de L'Enclos was born in Paris in 1620 and came from an interesting family. Her father had been exiled from France for participating in a duel and when her mother died, she decided to enter a convent. Of course, she didn't last very long and a year later, she left the convent and decided to strike out on her own using her wit and her body to make her fortune. How did she decide to go from convent to courtesan? It may surprise you to know that the one thing Ninon wanted above all else was to remain unmarried and independent. That left a woman only one of two choices back in those days. The convent. Or the life of a courtesan. She figured out pretty quickly that there wasn't all that much fun to be had at the convent...

Ninon, once she went out into the world, actually became quite known for her passionate involvement in the literary arts, not just the sexual arts. She interacted and encouraged writers such as Moliere and even left money from her estate for her accountant's son, Francois Arouet. Better known as Voltaire. Voltaire has Ninon to thank for his education. Without it, who knows what he would have turned into.

It was, however, the older Ninon that ultimately fascinated me. She took on many lovers throughout the years, but never more than one at a time and involved herself with powerful, wealthy men, such as the King's cousin and dukes. Perhaps the most heartbreaking, yet fascinating of stories is about her son. Ninon involved herself with a wealthy, powerful man and bore him a son. This man took the son from Ninon and asked that she never disclose herself as being the boy's mother. She agreed and watched her son grow up from a distance. Imagine her astonishment when her fully grown son appears at her door one day and ardently pleads to her if she'd take him into her bed. Ehm. Yes. Talk about awkward. At first, she simply denied him and brushed him off, hoping that his pride would simply squash whatever hopes he had. But her son was so obsessed and in love with her that he simply would not give her any sense of peace. Ninon was beside herself and knew she simply had to reveal the truth to him. To get him to stop. When she revealed the truth, her son quietly left and that same day committed suicide by impaling himself upon his own sword. It was a tragedy that haunted Ninon for the rest of her days.

Such tragedies, however, often leads to great wisdom. (Don't we all know that...) She thrived upon using her experience at every turn. When she wasn't bedding her current lover, she held literary events and discussions with aristocratic men having to do with philosophy, life, love, and yes, even sex. It was a "school" of sorts she had created and she had quite the following of men. In the early stages of creating my books, I decided to take these "discussions" of hers with men and turn it into an actual school. Hence the creation of the School of Gallantry.

Without a doubt, Ninon was known for her quips and wit. She had great sayings like, "Much more genius is needed to make love than to command armies." (Ain't that the truth) And my my favorite "The resistance of a woman is not always a proof of her virtue, but more frequently of her experience." These fabulous quotes of hers gave me ideas upon ideas as to how my imaginary school should be run as well as the sort of quotes I wanted to see at the beginning of each chapter within my books. Hence the lessons. Call it a tribute, if you will, to the fabulous Ninon.

What is perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Ninon and why I created an elderly courtesan for my series as opposed to a young one, is that the older Ninon got, the more sought after she became by men. Unlike most courtesans who were forced to retire due to age and lack of beauty, Ninon's circle of admirers grew because they simply could not get enough of her wit and charm. Even women flocked to her for advice. One of my favorite stories about Ninon is when she was approached by a gentleman who desperately wanted to bed her but she really didn't care for him. So she told him, "When I turn 80." The man was so obsessed with her, that he waited, and when she turned 80, he showed up at her door saying it was time. Ninon was so amused by the man, she decided to bed him after all. Indeed, her approach toward men and toward life, the amount of wealth and power she acquired in her lifetime is beyond the comprehension of even a modern woman. I hail her for this alone. Ninon died at 84 and left her vast fortune to friends and admirers.

So there you have it. Ninon AKA Madame de Maitenon.

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Save the School of Gallantry

2009-06-25T18:38:00.001-07:00

My Dearest Readers,

When I was in high school, I had a dream. I was going to be the next Stephen King. Heh. Yeah. Stay with me. Please. I knew my ideas were fabulous and I knew all it would take is for an editor to look at it and they would offer me up the moon and the stars and best of all, a contract. I had my girlfriends read everything I wrote. And they kept telling me, “This is fabulous! It's SO funny! Hilarious!” Seeing it really wasn't supposed to BE funny, I immediately changed course realizing I actually had a better handle on being funny than scary. I also figured adding a romance into it would even make it better since that is what I loved to read.

I then entered college as an English major. I was going to be teacher and write during the summers. Even then I was a smart girl who knew I wasn't going to make jack and that I needed a job to support the “creative” one. Throughout all of college I wrote historical romances. One right after another. And kept submitting. And submitting. And submitting. And kept getting rejected and rejected and rejected. In the meantime, I got married. I had two kids. I joined RWA. I got critique partners. I did honed and honed and honed the crap out of my writing. And kept writing and getting rejected. I eventually racked up over 200 rejections and had written over 40 books in those 11 years of trying to get published.

When I finally sold my first historical romance, MISTRESS OF PLEASURE, and my second book, LORD OF PLEASURE, I was beside myself. It didn't feel real. To FINALLY arrive at a destination I had been traveling toward for 11 long years seemed like a mirage. Which fortunately, I quickly snapped out of. Because after all, most of my friends are all published and unpublished writers and the stories they all have told me throughout the years made me realize I had to fight with fists up for myself every step of the way. I knew publishers did little to no promotion for their authors, so I spearheaded my own promo, ready to be more than just an author. And even though I was budgeting very well and spending countless hours networking and promoting on websites and blogs, doing tons for free, I still ended up spending $7,000 on my first book. Which was way more than my advance. But hey, every business starts in the red. Right?

Then the reviews started coming in about my series set in 1830 London England about a school that educates men on the topic of love and seduction. People loved it! Wow. It got nominated for awards. Wow. Readers are e-mailing me raving. Wow. Readers from France, Austria, Poland, South Africa and from all over the U.S and the world. Wow. It just kept getting better and better. I was beginning to feel as if every penny I spent was all worth it (even though my family and I weren't going on any vacations and were eating out of cans). Because all that mattered was that my publisher loved me and my readers loved my series.

Come contract time, I'm ready for whatever they wanna throw at me. Or so I thought. Mistress of Pleasure, though completely sold out and unavailable anywhere (unless it's a used copy, some going for a ridiculous amount of $40.00), hadn't done as well as my publisher had hoped. So without waiting for the second book to come out to see if the series was even worth saving, I get a rejection from my own editor citing lack of sales.

I have to say this rejection felt more personal than any of the other two hundred and some rejections I'd received. Because it was no longer “Your book isn't good enough” it became “Your sales aren't good enough.” Since when is an author supposed to be a market guru AND a fabulous writer? Eck.

I love this series. The men in it make me laugh and it broke my heart to think that my readers will never get a chance to read about Lord Brayton, my glorious male virgin. The only alpha virgin I ever plan to write about. Then I realized something, why I am letting a publisher decide what is worth holding on to? Shouldn't that be a reader's job?

Ah. Herein lies the purpose of my post. I am challenging everyone, be they readers or writers to help me do something that's never been done before. Save a series from a death sentence given by a publisher. Can it be done? Who knows. But I eat challenges for breakfast and I hope you do to. Please join me in saving my series. Come August 4th, tell everyone you know (yes, even you're 72 year old grandfather) to buy the book, Lord of Pleasure. In doing so, you'll have a chance to win one of three $50 Visa Gift Cards. How? Check out my website for details at http://www.delilahmarvelle.com/

That said, thank you for all the support and love everyone has already shown me. Feel free to post and repost this to everyone under the moon and the stars. To all you readers out there, thank you for supporting us writers. To all you writers out there, don't ever give up on your writing. The moment you do, you give up on yourself. Which is why I'm not giving up on my series.

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Filthy Shakespeare Part 2

2009-06-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

Here's a picture of Shakespeare very few see or recognize. It actually makes him look more savvy than that wizened, pudgy faced picture we're all used to seeing. It's a conspiracy, I tell you. To warp the way we look at Shakespeare. After all, he's SUPPOSED to be the father of all literary plays.

In last month's post, I touched upon how deliciously naughty Shakespeare was and how throughout the centuries his words had been deleted and altered to create "clean" versions of his works. After all, how could Shakespeare be considered "literary" and taken seriously by ANYONE if he's referring to sex, cunts, pricks, erections, ejaculations, buggery, lesbians, brothels, dildos, boobs, balls, pimps, and impotence???

As the book, "Filthy Shakespeare" by Pauline Kiernan brilliantly points out, William Shakespeare's name actually gave cause for eyebrows to be raised even then. For his name was a sexual pun in and of itself and quite literally meant "To Shake one's Spear" which was the definition of wanker. And "Will" was another word for "prick." So essentially, his name quite literally meant "Prick Wanker." No wonder the dude wasn't afraid to write about sex. His very own name set the tone of puns he was meant to write for the rest of his days.

As if that wasn't enough ammo for him, just a few years before Shakespeare was born there was a great scientific "rediscovery." Of the clitoris. Yes. In 1559 (Shakespeare was born in 1564). Greek medical writers had actually long documented extensively the location of the clitoris and that it could be stimulated outside of penetration, yet all of Europe somehow "forgot" about the clitoris (I think it was a freakin' conspiracy...Dan Brown should have seriously covered this in his Da Vinci book). With this "rediscovery" of the clitoris throughout Europe, it was becoming quite evident to men that a woman's pleasure could actually be controlled outside of a man. Which worried them to no end. There were public outcries about dildos being sold and used and what would happen to the population (and the men...). After all, the dildo was serious competition. It always hard, didn't create a mess, and there was no fear of disease or pregnancy attached. A dildo was almost a no brainer for a gal back in those days...

Needless to say, by the time Shakespeare stepped into the picture, lo, the man had plenty of stuff to write about, as the dildo and clitoris conspiracy was still going on. And write about the dildo conspiracy he did.

In THE WINTER'S TALE, the character Autolycus is selling "wares" when he arrives into Bohemia. I have to share the lines because it's really THAT good. Here is an excerpt (now remember, to "sing" is a pun on "fuck" and "fadings" refers to "orgasms"...keep this in mind as you read):

Servant: "He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes. No milliner can so fit his customers with gloves. He has the prettiest love songs for maids...with such delicate burdens of dildos and fadings, "Jump her and thump her"...

Autolycus (singing): "Pins and poking-sticks of steel, what maids lack from head to heel...come buy!"

Servant: "He has dildos for man or woman, of all sizes for all shapes of genitals and arses. No glove-maker can bring a female prostitute or male brother-goer so quickly to orgasm with his gloves. He has the sexiest dildos for virgins, such lightweight burdens of sensual dildos and refrains that sound like orgasms: "Jump into her and fuck her."

Autolycus (singing): "Pins and poking-sticks of steel, everything maids need from penis tip to heel. Come and buy!"

Now why is it we never read THIS is freakin' English Lit?! I'm sure none of the guys in my class would have complained about not understanding what the heck Shakespeare was talking about. Because, yes, sex IS a universal language. Which is why Shakespeare loved to touch upon it so much (yes, pun intended...). Bottom line, no matter who attended his plays, be they rich or poor, every adult understood the workings of sex and so it was a brilliant tool he used quite frequently and liberally in order to communicate with his audience to evoke humor as well as emotion (think of Romeo and Juliet's parting is such sweet sorrow scene). That said, I hope you now have a completely different take on Shakespeare and I hope you read the fabulous book "Filthy Shakespeare" and truly take the time to appreciate just how funny and witty and brilliant and naughty the man really was.

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Filthy Shakespeare

2009-05-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,

The winds are changing. With Maggie now gone, I intend to only keep my posts to the first of the month as I wish to give you quality over quantity. I know you will all understand. And if you don't...well, go get yourself a dildo and make yourself happy. That said, I give thee the latest post on how Filthy Shakespeare *REALLY* was. Being an English major, and having been exposed (pun intended) to Shakespeare repeatedly, I noticed a pattern within his works. A naughty pattern. When I approached my professor to ask about it, he scoffed at the notion that Shakespeare was a dirty minded bastard. He said it was just his humor. I begged to differ.

Shakespeare for his time was probably outrageous and until I came across the book Filthy Shakespeare by Pauline Kiernan I forgot about how filthy he really was. Because there is no way I could ever do justice to how amazing this book is put together, I suggest you a.) go get it or b.)come back next month where I will be hosting a part 2 to this discussion. If you do both, I'll be impressed.

So...not many know that not that far away from the Globe Theatre where many of Shakespeare's famous plays were put on was a brothel. And not just one, but too many to count. It was known as the "London Bankside." Bank = brothel. A transaction that takes place between man and whore. Many of them competed with each other by naming themselves after genitalia. "The Cardinal's Hat" for instance, referred to an erection. Many may not have gotten that out of the name of the shop, but back then, a lot of the slangs they used to talk about sex were wildly different. For instance, "noon" meant what it means today, but it also referred to an erection, pointing up at twelve on the dial. Shakespeare being as witty and brilliant as he was, used his words as any great writer word to create a world of double entendres. Which to me says he most likely was indeed a man. Heh. Unlike now, people then really paid attention to the sort of words being said in a play. So those words needed to hold the attention of their audience unlike a television ever could.

Here's the thing about Shakespeare, however, that many people don't realize. It wasn't until after Shakespeare's death that the cleaning out of his plays started to occur (sadly, it happened to a lot of works in history). At first it was a word here and a word there, a pun here and a pun there, taken out one by one. To top it off, a lot of vocabulary has since then changed. Among the filthiest lines censored was actually from Romeo and Juliet. Mercutio insults Rosaline. And I quote: "O Romeo, that she were, O that she were/an open-arse and thou a popp'rin'pear." Basically, bend over and take her kind of thing. As quotes from Filthy Shakespeare (and I knew this...): "O = vagina, popp'rin = pop her in." One edition of this being seen was where "open-arse" was replaced with "Open Et Caitera" (snort) and other would simply insert a dash where the arse should have been. 18th century editors quite literally threw out lines and lines and lines of Shakespeare's work. As a writer, I cringe. Because then everything gets taken out of context. The voice is lost. The idea is lost. No matter how dirty that voice or idea was. Because Shakespeare also wrote poems in which men addressed other men in love sonnets (as Elizabethans were really quite open about their sexuality), 'he' was changed to 'she.' And I could go on and on. Bottom line, try to find (and they are out there) an UNEDITED version of Shakespeare. And use the book Filthy Shakespeare as your guide to pull out the puns on sex, buggery, whores, pimps, dildos, nuns, the pox, and so forth. It really is too much fun. I wish my professor would have put on this class. It would have been filled within the hour. Part 2 of this post will be posted (and I promise) on the first of the next month. Until then, be as naughty and filthy as Shakespeare. It's called being creative.

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Naughty, Naughty

2009-05-02T01:52:00.001-07:00

My dearest Readers,
Here is a little eye candy for you. I feel like you deserve it. After all, I completely flaked and didn't realize my post was due. It could be that my mind is still on the amazing time I had at the Romantic Times Convention last week. I promise to pull together something very special for you in the next two days. It will involve the dirtier side of Shakespeare. My apologies and I promise to post soon.
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Parting is such sweet sorrow...

2009-04-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

My dearest Readers,
This will officially be Maggie Grover's last post to my blog. She has offered such a marvelous presence to this blog, I shall miss her dearly. I know you will all miss her too...
Thank you Maggie and endless love,
Delilah Marvelle

It's April and spring is here - at least according to the calendar, if not by the weather. It's a time of renewal and change in my book. And, on that note, dear readers, this will be my last posting on Women with Fire.

First, I want to thank Delilah for her generosity in allowing me to post on her blog these past 9 months… it was not just a fabulous opportunity for me to write about my love of women in history, but it was also a fabulous learning experience about my own writing life. How could it not be, when I was researching such powerful, accomplished, actualized women?

I've been so inspired from all my postings -- from Boudicca and her warrior will in the face of adversity, to Madame le Pompadour setting her sites on a goal and achieving it, to Martha Washington having the courage to create the life she wanted, to our Neolithic female forebears and their amazing ability to adapt, to Marietta Holley and her need to write stories, to tidbits reminding me we rock as women, to the three powerhouse women of last month's post and their sheer strength, gumption, and nerve.

I've come to realize that it's time for me to focus exclusively on my own novels in order to better walk a little bit in their footprints. I thank all the women through history who have stood up, spoke up, and made a difference so that I have the opportunities I have now. And, I thank you all for taking time to read my posts!

-Maggie Grover

The Very First Little Black Book in History

2009-03-31T22:37:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Readers,
Everyone knows the term "little black book" and how every rake keeps it safely tucked within the back of his trousers (or front...depending). But did you honestly think it's a modern invention to list the name of women in a book who will spread their legs at a moment's notice?

Allow me to introduce you to the gentleman above responsible for history's first little black book that was put to print and made use of by every man willing to pay the price. His name? Samuel Derrick. Samuel was a struggling poet. After years of struggling to be acknowledged for his brilliance (boy does that sounds familiar...), he decided to get drunk one night (why not?) and headed to his local London pub. Lo and behold, above his tankard of ale, stands a menacing, yet dashing man by the name of Jack Harris who is approached by a man asking for a woman who could pump him. A woman with large breasts, blue eyes and blond hair. Jack whips out a "list" that gives descriptions and the address of every prostitute in London. Well...almost every prostitute. Jack asks for a fee and gives the man the name and address of the woman that will see to his needs.

Visions of sugar plums began dancing in Samuel's head. And he wondered. What if such a list were made available to more than the random randy? And what if this list could be compiled and sold in a way to give it an air of sophistication? A sophistication only a poet could give. With these thoughts brewing, he set down his tankard and decided to take life by the balls (pun intended). He approached Jack Harris, who happened to be one of the biggest pimps in London known as "the General Pimp of all England", and told him of his idea to sell his list. The two came to an agreement that Harris's name would be used to authenticate the list and the first little black book was bound and put into publication for every man in London to buy. It was known as Harris's List of Covent Garden Ladies.

In it were the names and addresses of London's prostitutes and their "specialties." From the year 1757 to 1795 more than a quarter of a million copies were sold. An astounding number for the time. Any man serious about his pleasure wasn't caught dead without it. As for all the London prostitutes, they all begged and paid to be listed. It was good for business, after all. The trouble was, even if a lady (and I use that term loosely) was fortunate to have her name listed in the book and paid a pretty penny to do so, ultimately, she had no control as to what was written about her.

While Jack Harris dabbled in making sure the names and addresses and specialties were in fact legit (he worked hard every night seeing to it...ehm), Samuel Derrick was the one who ultimately penned the verses that were inserted into the book.

Here is but an example as to what you would see when you bought your own copy of the List (and it wasn't in the least bit complimentary to the poor gal trying to sell her goods):

Printed in the 1773 supplement

"Mrs. Berry, King's Place, Pall Mall
'Mercury upon most women has some effect'
(As a side note, mercury at the time, Mercury was used to treat venereal disease...)

An arrant Brimstone of Irish birth, who pretends to set up as one of the first rank courtesans, and would impose upon us her stale and battered commodity for fresh fruit, but we think our judgement cannot be imposed upon at this time of day, and are of the opinion that she has undergone too many salivations, that the power of Mercury has lost its effect upon her: in a word she is almost rotten and her breath is cadaverous."

A better advertisement for a gal would have been more like this:

Printed in the 1789 Supplement

"Madamoiselle, at Mrs. W-lp-les, No. 1 Poland Street
'Here I would die each blissful night,
Here chase the fleeting time away,
And whelm'd in love's serene delight
Rise full of life at happy day'

Every girl with a beautiful face and a good form, must in some measure, please; but very few among this list of trading nymphs afford that pleasure in enjoyment you meet with, in this delectable piece. She is now on the verge of twenty four, with fine dark hair, love sparkling eyes, and a set of teeth as would defy the power of a Spence to imitate, or the brush of Ruspini to improve. You may toy and kiss with this charming girl, if you please, but she does not suffer that kind of amorous dalliance long; she eagerly thirsts for more substantial pleasure, and has either by experience or instinct, a most pleasing knack of prolonging the dying moment, first as nature, by sounds, and short fetched sighs, proclaim the coming shower, her eager grasp suddenly suspends the liquid treasure and drains, by slow degrees, the soft injection, making it almost, with Dr. Graham 'the critical hour.' This enchanting game she has played for two years, and if you are her partner, she expects at least double the number of yellow boys (this is a slang term for guineas). If report speaks truth, this lady has been a singer at the Opera House in Paris, and we have no doubt that she is a native of Italy."

Sadly, Samuel and Jack didn't live happily ever after. Even with a huge list of women at their fingertips. When both died, the list continued for only a few years longer being edited and put together by unknowns. The Georgian hey-day with sex frolicking was nearing its end and the list was removed from publication due to public outcry from religious snobs.

And there you have it. The very first little Black book in History. If you want to a more detailed version of their story, pick up the book THE COVENT GARDEN LADIES by Hallie Rubenhold. It's an amazing book that makes you cringe, laugh and cross your legs all at the same time...

Until next time.
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

How to make love...1930's style

2009-03-01T00:04:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Readers,
It is quite by accident that I happen upon the most fabulous of books. Though perhaps not *quite* by accident. Considering where I happened to pick up a copy of this particular book I'll be discussing: Sparticus. Now for those of you that don't live in Portland, Oregon, Sparticus is a fabulous adult store with everything under the mattress a woman or a man would ever need. Lingerie, books, wigs, paddles, nipple rings, condoms, you name it. They have it. And if they don't, they know where to get it. So I wandered in (after all, how can one simply walk by such a store and NOT go in?! T'would be a crime) and after passing the pasties, purple and pink wigs, twenty inch heels with tip jars attached to the bottom (I kid you not), dicksticks (it's real lipstick shaped like a penis. I tell you, nothing shocks me anymore), and all the other kinky goodies, I headed for my favorite section in the entire store. And no, it wasn't the dildo section, gentle readers, but rather, the book section. Of course. A naughty writer needs naughty inspiration. So I read this and that and look at this and that and it's all really not that fascinating. Slot A into Slot B. Nothing creative. But then I spotted this fabulous, fabulous reprint sitting on the shelf and simply fell in love with it. Because it captures an era that reflects times gone by in history. The book, HOW TO MAKE LOVE, SECRETS OF WOOING FROM THE 1930's was the only thing I walked out with that day (well, actually, that's not true, but I do not intend to post what else I walked out with as every girl has a right to her privacy...ehm)

So here is a basic overview of the book and why you must get your hands on it:
*It is a man's perspective on love. From the 1930's. (Bwahaha)
*Defines love is an art that can and must be perfected. (Bwahahahahahahahahahaha)
*There are so many great lines that will make every woman want to burn bras. And I quote, "Man was created strong. Woman was created weak. Therefore, it is up to the man to protect his woman. Woman is so physically constituted that she needs a man's strong protection."
*A woman must always be passive. (Because?.... It's easier?)
*Basic customs, such as laying out a cloak on a puddle as in olden days or holding the door open, helps the "basic necessity of establishing this strong-weak relationship as soon as possible..."
*The secret to lasting love: Understanding. (AMEN, brotha)
*Make sure that when you're on the sofa and you want to "make your move" you do so in a manner so as to arrange that she is sitting against the arm of the sofa. So that she has no means of escaping. (Forced seduction, anyone?)
*Oh, and THE BEST LINES EVER to help a guy out with a gal and I quote as I'm holding back a gasp of horrified laughter: "If she flinches, don't worry. If she flinches and makes an outcry, don't worry. If she flinches, makes and outcry and tries to get up off the sofa, don't worry. Hold her, gently but firmly, and allay her fears with kind, reassuring words. Remember what Shakespeare said about "a woman's no." However, if she flinches, makes an outcry, a loud stentorian outcry, mind you, and starts to scratch your face, then start to worry and start to get yourself out of a bad situation."
*Flatter a woman. (The oldest and dirtiest trick in the book, I'd say)
* How to properly place one's arm around a gal in the theatre. There is a right and a wrong way. The right way is to place your arm around her below the upper part of the chair so that no one will see you doing so. The improper way is to place your arm around her AND the seat for everyone to see and pulling her close.
*Love is entirely irrational and unless you understand that, you won't ever understand love. (Um...that TOTALLY makes sense)
*Understand thyself. In turn, you will understand others. (This is actually damn good Dr. Phil stuff)
*Oh, and the best advice ever. Gentlemen. Do remember that 1+1=3. Amen.

Again, pick up this fabulous, fabulous book. It really gives you an understanding as to the mentality of an America that we are still trying to break ourselves away from. Although I must say that it has a lot of very wonderful lines about love and relationships that deserve further scrutiny. The one thing that I most certainly noticed is that the whole notion and premise of the book which discusses "making love" cannot be compared to our definition of "making love." For although kissing and techniques and so on is covered, A into slot B is not. It is more of a commentary to the men about love in general and the paths it leads them down. Which is really fascinating. Because the book really tries to "talk" to men about love and relationships in a very rational and concise manner. To the best of the author's knowledge that is....

I dare you to post your favorites out of the list I gave outlining the book and why it is your favorite. Because this is my blog, I get to say I love them all. Because it is part of a past I know I will never truly understand or appreciate having not lived it. Until next time.

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

13 Tidbits

2009-02-15T00:34:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Readers,
I give thee yet another tantalizing post by the fabulous Maggie Grover.
As always, remember to show your love by posting.
Cheers,
Delilah Marvelle

You learn the darndest things when you channel surf. I can see why guys like to control the remote so much. You stumble across tidbits of info that you might never have learned had you stayed with what the television guide told you was on. Last weekend, I had the rights to the remote control and I used it shamelessly….and I discovered some doozies of info that I want share as they have to do with women -- all women -- and are especially interesting given we've just celebrated Valentine's Day.

On the Discovery Channel:
Tidbit #1 Male sweat is only attractive to women when we are ovulating
Tidbit #2 A female's "private aroma" is so compelling to men that one whiff and the male's testosterone spikes and he can't distinguish between so-called attractive women and so-called not-so attractive women…basically all women look "good".
Tidbit # 3 Men search for potential mates on the basis of looks - does she have the right "equipment" to produce offspring -- no surprise there.
Tidbit # 4 Women search for potential mates on the basis of the apparent ability of the man to provide for her offspring (good gene pool, good hunter, good protector, and surprisingly if his car looks macho!) -- a savvy strategy, I say, except perhaps for the car part….although, now that I think of it, there was this guy in college who drove a Cougar XR7 and he WAS way hot.
Tidbit #5 If a genetic mutation has affected a man's vasopressin hormone he is less like to get married or stay married.
Tidbit #6 The smell of Lilly of the Valley increases penile blood flow 11%
Tidbit #7 The smell of Lavender combined with Pumpkin Pie increases penile blood flow 40%
Tidbit #8 The smell of Lavender and Pumpkin Pie is also stimulating for women -- which makes me wonder how many babies are born 9 months after Thanksgiving.
I flipped to an entertainment channel and learned:
Tidbit #9 Tina Fey is the most successful writer on TV
Then I went on to a channel about learning and education . . .
Tidbit # 10 Females are the majority of the American population and the majority of the electorate
Tidbit #11 Almost as many women as men graduate from medical school and law school.
Tidbit #12 More women graduate with both undergraduate and graduate degrees.
Tidbit #13 The United Nations has reported that in countries where the women are better educated, have leadership roles, and substantial rights, the country's economy does better.

With my brain spinning, I put down the remote so I could pull it all together…
and basically, what I learned was -- women may have started by seeking potential mates based solely on the apparent ability to provide for her offspring, but we are evolving to a place where we write the best TV, like college more, still share a mutual lust for lavender and pumpkin pie with men, and are really good for the economy.

Oh, and one last thing I learned and it has nothing to do with sex - or maybe it does. I landed on a public broadcasting show about climbing in the Scottish Highlands -- did you know that the temperature drops one degree Fahrenheit for every 300 feet you climb up a mountain? And women, with our increased level of body fat do better in such cold weather. So, I guess you can add Mountaintop Survivor Woman to our list of accomplishments…we rule.

Join the one year celebration!!!

2009-02-01T00:00:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Readers,
'Tis difficult to believe that an entire year has passed since A Bit O'Muslin first made its debut. In honor of that one year, I invite you to partake in a bit of fun. And by doing so, you have the opportunity to win fabulous historical based prizes worth gossiping about.

Prizes up for grabs:
-A fabulous reprint of a 1930's book: The Art of Kissing by Pietro Ramirez Sr. (Tips and Techniques)
-A fabulous reprint of a 1913 book: Don'ts for Husbands/Don'ts for Wives by Blanche Ebbutt
-Two signed copies of my book Mistress of Pleasure, along with signed cover flats of my upcoming release, Lord of Pleasure.

How to win:
Answer one of the two following ridiculously easy questions.
(Hint: The answers can be found in previous posts OR you can google it...)

1.) Exactly how old is the oldest known dildo? (For there may have been older, but they simply haven't been found)
2.) What is osculation?

Only those posting the right answers will be entered to win. Everyone has from February 1st until the 13th to post their answers. Then remember to come back on Valentine's Day to see if you win! If you see your name, e-mail me at Delilah@DelilahMarvelle.com with your address so I can send you your prize. Remember. No address. No prize. Thank you for helping me celebrate and good luck to everyone who enters!!!

Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle
P.S. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY. MAY YOU ALWAYS BE NAUGHTY. NOT NICE.

Women with Fire - Marietta Holley

2009-01-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Readers,
Yet another marvelous installment of Women of Fire by Maggie Grover!
Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Ah, the holidays -- a great time to reconnect with family and friends. It's also a great time to get suggestions from them for my next blog. Over Christmas brunch, Susan B. Anthony came up in conversation. I thought, yes! Historic election just finished, new president coming in, let's talk about another woman with fire who is known for her work on the issue of women's suffrage -- first, a wee confession - when I was a girl, I thought it was "suffer-age", as in "long suffering". As apropos as that may seem to many woman, the word suffrage actually comes from the Latin suffragari meaning to support with one's vote. Anyway, I started my research on Susan B. Anthony. She was an articulate, driven woman and I found her to be quite marvelous and intriguing….but five pages into the research I found an even more intriguing, less well-known woman of the times -- Marietta Holley, born July 1836 and died March 1926. Marietta was an American humorist who used the medium of poetry, articles, and novels to explore cultural and social issues. Marietta was compared to Mark Twain in writing style and popularity -- although Twain appeared grudging in his praise of her works.

A key issue to Marietta was women's rights in a time when we had few. Women were not allowed testify in court, sue, make a contract, hold title to property, or establish a business. This was less than a hundred years ago, people! It's truly mind-boggling when you think on it. Marietta set out to change all that through her writing. So, for any author who has every dreamed of making a difference, she's your gal.

Born youngest of seven children on a small farm in New York -- side note, Susan Anthony moved to New York when she was six. Do you think the idea of woman's suffrage might have been in the New York drinking water ; - ) ? At 14, Marietta quit school to support her family by giving piano lessons. At 17, she left the family church and converted to the Baptist religion (oh, Marietta, you radical, you!). That affiliation ignited her voice, as the Baptists allowed women to speak as equals to men (what a concept).

Her first novel was released in 1872 and I can't resist, I really must give you the full title: My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's: Designed as a Beacon Light, To Guide Women to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, But Which May be Read By Members of the Sterner Sect, Without Injury to Themselves of This Book. Yowza. This book earned her $600 (a substantial sum in those days). It launched a ten-book series which had a world-wide distribution. The heroine of the series was Samantha Allen, wife to Josiah. Marietta tackled the reform issues of the day by writing Samantha Allen as a plain-spoken woman who used wit, gentle satire, and humor to explore the issues Marietta was passionate about. I guess the humor is what softened the blow to the Sterner Sect so they could read her books without fear of injury.

One of Samantha Allen's observations (as written by Marietta) was too good not to share -- I'm paraphrasing here….although Samantha appreciated the Sterner Sect's sentiment of protecting women from the onerous burden of having to go all the way to a ballot box and cast a vote (I kid you not, that was one of the arguments used against giving the women the right to vote), Samantha noticed that this same sentiment of wanting to protect women from burdens didn’t seem to apply to protecting them from doing laundry by hand, churning butter, or bearing a dozen children.

Marietta also had an avid fear of travel which makes the Samantha Allen series even more amazing. Several of the Samantha Allen series included trips to New York City, Saratoga, and even Europe. Marietta did the vast majority of her research using only maps and travel guides (No Internet? YIKES!).

She was also much sought after by other women in the reform movement -- Susan B. Anthony for one (it's how I stumbled upon Marietta). Impressed by her eloquence, Susan asked Marietta repeatedly to speak at suffrage conventions. Marietta always refused, saying she was too shy to be on stage. The pen was the way she would contribute. And contribute she did. She had over 20 novels published and one of her novels, Samantha at Saratoga, spent a decade on the best-seller list because it spoke so deeply to so many people. One report I found put her book sales at 10,000,000. Yep, 10 Million. Although she doesn’t immediately come to mind when we talk of woman's rights, Marietta's works laid seed-thoughts in the minds and hearts of women all around the world. Those seeds sprouted, blossomed, and helped lay the groundwork for the historic election we just witnessed. So, THANK YOU, Marietta, for using the power of your pen on behalf of women.

If you'd like more info on Marietta, a good website (put up by New York school students who took this on as a project) is http://168.170.14.106/marietta/homepage.htm Be sure and listen to the music link, and, if you are so inclined, vote to have her inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame.

The History of the Dildo

2009-01-05T07:17:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Readers,

Some time ago, before my days of publication, I wrote Mistress of Pleasure (then known as An Improper Education) and entered it into a few unpubbed contests. I found that although many were enthusiastic about my story, what with talk of sex, humor and all, there were a few skeptics who simply did not believe that a dildo existed in 1830. Excuse me while I laugh (hahahaha). I am here to give those certain few a most needed and proper education on DILDOS. What you see above is the oldest dildo to have ever been found by the scientific community. (Can you imagine discovering such a thing in a cave? What would your fellow scientific colleagues dub you as? Brilliant doesn't come to mind...) This particular dildo is 28,000 years old and was found in a cave by German scientists near Ulm. It is made of siltstone, measures 20 cm long and was lovingly polished to perfection. It is believed to have been used for rituals and mutual dildofication (indeed, I just made that word up). So yes, dildos have been around as long as men have had their cocks hanging from their nether region. Which is a very, very long time. And the fascination for dildos has not since waned.

The term dildo comes from the Latin word DILATARE, which means to "open wide." The very first appearance of the word dildo in the English dictionary is said to have appeared in 1598. So what on earth did they call it prior to the invention of the English word? That is indeed a mystery for the use of it predates the word itself.

Above, you see a Roman version of what would have been paraded on special occasions. The Romans, mind you, were overly obsessed with the cock. They displayed it on their door bells (certainly gives the whole term "pulling the cock" a new meaning), used it for rituals, paraded it throughout the streets, and so on and so forth. Although the dildos used by the Romans were made out of polished stone or wood. Ouch and ouch. And although it was used for pleasure, it was more associated with the deflowering of virgins. The reality was that women were more or less forced to worship the thing, whether they wanted to or not. Ceremonies were conducted around the dildo. In Rome, brides were not deflowered by their husbands, rather a statue with a huge cock (Priapus). And this was done in public for all to see. March 17th marked the feast of when a six foot high wooden dildo would be drawn through the streets to celebrate the fertility god Liber. They would chant to it (I would have loved to have been there...) and a virgin would "crown it" with a wreath.

In the book SEXY ORIGINS AND INTIMATE THINGS by Charles Panati (I highly recommend this book) he says, "In a Greek play from the third century B.C., one woman complains to another that she's tired of her friends' borrowing her beautiful new "scarlet leather-covered dildo" before she's had a chance to pleasure herself with it." To this I say, why the bloody hell were you borrowing it in the first place and how did they know about it? Ehm.

India, known for the Kama Sutra wasn't by any means immune. Were there were men, there were dildos. And were there were women, there were dildos being used for both pleasure and ritual purposes. As you can see by the sketch above, all sorts of contraptions were used and attached to make insertion of the dildo easier and I'm certain more fun. Arabic and Polynesian women used dildos, as well. But they didn't use stone or wood. They turned to a different and more natural form of nature found in one's garden. An unripened, firm banana. What they did with the banana once its use was seen to isn't something that has been recorded.

In Uganda, up until the 19th century, the deflowering of virgins through artificial means was critical. Hymen blood was viewed as being "evil" and so before a husband would bed his wife, he would pay a "priest-like figure" to do it. One who could endure the evils of the hymen. It was up to this priest to decide whether he should use the dildo or his own cock on the bride. I'm certain there wasn't anything pious about his "choices." The dildo was also used throughout Europe to cure what was known as "hysteria" among women. Meaning "hysterical" women not being properly orgasmed and as a result of it were understandably frustrated. The doctor would use a dildo to masturbate his patient and "relieve" the hysteria or send off the patient with a dildo with strict instruction to use it on a regular basis. Doctors.

Needless to say, I could go on. But fortunately for you, I won't. The whole point of this post was to say yes, dildos have been around for a very, very, VERY long time and that yes, they have been used for everything from pleasure to ceremony to God knows what else. Happy New Year and go find yourself a dildo!

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

Happy New Year!!

2008-12-31T10:55:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Readers,
With 2008 behind us and 2009 ahead of us, I wanted to personally wish all of you a glorious upcoming new year. 2008 has been a tough year for many and hopefully with this year we will see much better times. That said, this gal is off celebrating all the good things to come!! And I hope you are too. Though I usually post on the 1st, I'll be posting on the 5th with a topic sure to raise a few brows. In February, A Bit O'Muslin will be celebrating it's one year anniversary and so be sure to stop by on February first where there will be prizes and more!!!
Until the 5th, Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

Women with Fire

2008-12-15T05:00:00.000-08:00

My Dearest Readers,

I give thee yet another fantastic installment by the fabulous and brilliant Maggie Grover. Now mind you the picture above is *not* a real representation of what a cave woman would have looked like back then. Just so you know. Do remember to show your love and post!

Cheers and much love,

Delilah Marvelle

I have a confession. Not only am I a geek for history, I also love reading about the latest archaeological finds. In fact, once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I was going to be an archaeologist, not an historical novelist (okay, the faraway land was only Florida and it wasn't such a long time ago, 'cause sheez, I'm not THAT old). Anyway, this love of archaeology means that I keep an eye out for the latest in interesting "digs" -- "digs" is the bland term archaeologists use to describe excavating dead people. . .and it's also part of the reason I decided not to be an archaeologist. You have to dig up dead people? Eeeuw. How about I just write stories about dead people, instead? Much better. Which brings me to this month's Woman with Fire topic -- actually it's going to be WOMEN with Fire.

I'm cheering for the women of the Neolithic era (some call it the Late Stone Age and it means New Stone in Greek) who really did live once upon a time in a land far away -- not Clan of the Cave Bear long ago, but around the beginnings of modern civilization (roughly 4-6000 years) in such places as Egypt, the Fertile Crescent (modern-day Iraq) and then migrated into Europe.
The article that sparked my idea for this blog detailed the discovery of a Neolithic family grave among four burial sites in Germany. Based on a DNA analysis of the remains, the archaeologists realized the skeletons in this grave belonged to a mother, father, and two sons. The other three graves also contained members of single family groupings as well (all revealed through the FEMALE DNA, I might add). The article said that this discovery suggested that biological relationship was the focus of social organization in Neolithic times. Nothing surprising there, as we know the evidence for the family model we use today had to be somewhere.

The next bit is what got me thinking about the magnificence of Neolithic women. The researchers analyzed the strontium isotopes (designer atoms) in their teeth. The strontium from food accumulates in your teeth over time and it's a way archaeologists five hundred years from now will be able to tell if you ate primarily at McDonald's in the Pacific Northwest, or visited the McDonald's in New England on a regular basis. The results of the analysis showed that the women grew up in markedly different regions from the men and children -- the women came from a land far, far away (for real). Apparently, the women were expected to marry out of their clan -- the reason being this would avoid inbreeding and cement kinship bonds with other communities.. And it hit me . . . imagine growing up in one clan and learning all the secrets of pottery making, animal husbandry, farming, and sacred knowledge of your blossoming civilization then marrying some guy you met at the annual gathering of the clans who hailed from the other side of the "beyond" and having to learn all new stuff in order to survive in his clan! New plants, new geography, new language, new tools, new animals, new sacred symbols, new EVERYTHING. And these ladies with fire did it. Again and again. They brought their knowledge to new places, shared it with new peoples, and learned the new ways.

Which brings me to my point. Think about it, if you will. Because of the courage of our Stone Age foremothers, we females have successfully been "marrying out of our clan" since Neolithic times, which is at least 6000 years. 6000 years. No wonder we are friggin' better at multi-tasking, creating community, seeing the BIG picture, and adapting to change. And, no offense intended, but as far as I can tell, the biggest social challenge facing Neolithic men was learning to hunt, and, ahem, learning how to correctly use their own "spear".

Neolithic women began it by exemplifying the bumper sticker (paraphrasing here): Neolithic women are like tea bags, you don't know how strong they are until you drop 'em in "new-clan" hot water. So, here's to our rockin' (no pun intended) Stone Age foremothers. Thank you for laying the groundwork for us to survive in our own intense times!

Sex Tips For Wives

2008-12-01T10:51:00.000-08:00

My dearest Readers,
I thought it quite appropriate to set this particular post on "sex tips for wives" to the above picture of an old maid handing off a dildo to the new bride with what I could only guess the advice being, "Go forth and climax, my dear, dear girl, for no husband will do it for you." As one might imagine, a woman back in the day had to be pretty fortunate to actually experience a climax during the act. Or at all. It was truly at a man's discretion as to whether his wife and/or mistress received pleasure. After all, the world evolved around men. Still does. What was more, most men back in those days didn't really understand how a woman's body worked (some men these days still don't know....ehm). Which only perpetuated a serious problem. Women were not being satisfied.

Now with every age, came a different understanding of sexuality. The picture you see above is actually Georgian. It was a time when sexuality was a bit more embraced and romping was not only fun but a way of life (for the most part). Then we move into Regency. Sexuality is slowly being clamped down on. And then we have our Victorians. Ah, yes. And this is where we officially begin. As the Victorian age is so easy to make fun of. There is a book called
"Sex Tips For Husbands and Wives From 1894" by Ruth Smythers. Allow me to highlight the fabulous points of this book. And I do mean fabulous....

*That the wedding day is the happiest and most terrifying day of a woman's life.
*And rightfully so.
*She has secured a man to provide for her for the rest of her days.
*She has also secured a man who will want "it" for the rest of her days. (Isn't *that* the truth)
*The terrible experience of sex must be faced.
*For those women who anticipate their wedding night with curiosity and hopes of pleasure...BEWARE!
*The one rule of marriage a wife must adhere to: "Give Little, Give Seldom, And Above All, Give Grudgingly."
*Otherwise a woman's proper marriage becomes "an orgy of sexual lust." (Heaven forbid!)
*"While sex is at best revolting and at worse rather painful, it has to be endured." (Hm. Submissive behavior. Sounds familiar.)
*If allowed, a husband will want it every day (and every night).
*A wise wife will only allow two very, very, very brief encounters per week for the first few months. To create children.
*With time, she should reduce the two brief encounters to one brief encounter. And then none.
*Illness, sleepiness and headaches is a lady's good friend in this matter.
*By the fifth year of marriage, encounters should be reduced to once a month.
*By the tenth year, all encounters have been terminated. (I rather like their used of termination. It's quite...appropriate)
*Sex is not what will hold a man in his home, but his children and social pressure.(You *have* to love the Victorians)
*Men by nature are perverted (isn't that the truth! LOL) and if given the chance would indulge in all sort of disgusting sexual activities.
*These disgusting activities include "performing the normal act in abnormal positions; mouthing the female body; and offering their own vile bodies to be mouthed in turn." (Those poor, poor women, not to mention those poor, poor men)
*A wife should never allow her husband to see her unclothed.
*A wife should also never allow her husband to flaunt his unclothed body.
*Sex should only be performed in utter darkness.
*The darkness creates yet another glorious opportunity for the man to stumble and hurt himself so that the act can be denied. (Snort)
*No body movement must be made by the wife during the act as it will be seen as sexual excitement.
*Kisses should be placed upon the cheek. Not the lips. (Okay, now this is where I bloody draw the line...shaking head yet again)
*Buttermilk toilet soap ought to be placed on the nether region to prevent a husband from mouthing the forbidden territory.
*The gown will not be pulled up above the waist.
*Above all, she will remain perfectly still and never moan. (Either in pleasure or in pain.)
*A wife's duty is to suppress a man's need for sex. Period.

So there it is. Sex Tips for wives from 1894. My response to the above? Where the bloody hell is that dildo?! And what about your response? Dare I even ask?
Cheers and much love until next time,
Delilah Marvelle

The Mysteries of Sex

2008-11-01T16:56:00.000-07:00

There is a fabulous, fabulous book called The Mysteries of Sex: Women Who Posed as Men and Men Who Impersonated Women by C.J.S. Thompson. Though out of print, it is not impossible to find. And if you can get your hands on this book, do so! It's absolutely FABULOUS.

As I cannot possibly give every character in this book (and there are SO many), I will give you one of my favorites. His name was Francois Timolean de Choisy. And yes, you guessed it, the man was French. Though not an aristocrat, his father was the chancellor to the Duke of Orleans and therefore his family mingled with the aristocracy quite frequently.

He was born in Paris, August 16th, 1644. His mother dressed him in female clothing throughout his childhood and up until the age of eighteen, he wore nothing but female clothing. Right down to the stockings and corsets. At 18, he was drawn to the stage and became an actor. Naturally, he was inclined to play a female. And loved it. A bit too much. For five months he wore nothing but tightly laced corsets so as to emphasize his hips and breasts (which he obviously did not have, but you string a corset tight enough, and yes even a man can have breasts). Choisy took care of his appearance so much so that he wrote about it in his memoirs (which by the way, I highly recommend everyone read). "I took care of my neck, rubbing it every night with veal broth and a pomade of sheep's foot oil which makes the skin soft and white." (He failed to mention I'm certain that it also made him stink...)

During the summer he would wear large, decorative masks to cover his face completely, as he believed bonnets never quite kept all the sun out. Choisy was indeed the dandiest of dandies and fops. He merely took it to the next level, so to speak. Interestingly enough, no one seemed to make a fuss about him wearing female clothing and aristocratic women would actually follow his fashion, as he was quite stylish both in his tastes in female clothing and hair. He was popular enough to be invited to all the important balls and suppers dressed as a woman. Most were amused by him and didn't take him seriously. But one woman did.

After meeting him several times, a certain Mademoiselle Charlotte fell madly in love with him and decided there was only one way to win his heart. So she showed up at one of his events dressed as a man. Needless to say, Choisy was rather smitten. He even commissioned a painting of them together. Charlotte dressed as a man and Choisy dressed as a woman. Charlotte, feeling as though their relationship could in fact work, decided to change her name to Monsieur de Maulny and even cut her hair. It worked. Though never officially, they married in a mock ceremony before family and friends. She was the groom and he was the bride.

And though I would like to end it there, sadly, there was no happily ever after for these two. They drifted apart. Charlotte resumed being a woman and married another man. Who wore manly clothes. It must have had some effect on Choisy, for shortly after her marriage to the "man," he opted to dress in male clothing and even took up gambling. Like a real man would. He eventually had to sell off his favorite diamond earrings. When he lost his house, he decided the whole male persona simply wasn't him. And resumed the ways of a woman. But it wouldn't last. Society around him was changing and the idea of a man dressed as a woman, especially a man growing in age, was hardly amusing. So he was forced to resume the life of a man. He grew old donning old finery in the confines of his bedchamber and died at the age of one and eighty in Paris, 1724.

And for those of you who may be wondering, it was never mentioned as to whether or not he was buried in his favorite gown...

How PASSIONATE are you?

2008-10-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Readers,

In in honor of all things passionate (things I completely adore!), I thought I would do something a bit different from what I normally do, and in turn keep all of you on your naughty little toes. Which is why I decided to host an unusual historical romance author. Or shall I say, AUTHORS. For this particular historical romance was written by two individuals. Oh, and I should say, they are husband and wife. Waggling brows here. Up for grabs to anyone who posts from now until the 15th, is a double autographed copy of PASSIONATE. Be sure to post before then! Below you will find a fabulous little interview.

Delilah: What is your book, PASSIONATE, about?

A&L: It’s about passion, of course. PASSIONATE is a spicy, Victorian-set romantic adventure that sweeps the reader out of the ballrooms and parlors of London and takes them on a botanical expedition to North Africa in search of a fabled bloom. There is a wickedly catty villain, an eccentric botanist, a folding bathtub (ooh la la), and a hero and heroine who have a difficult time maintaining regulation distance, even though fate seems intent on keeping them apart.

Delilah: Let’s begin with the naughty, shall we? How do you usually go about infusing sex into your historical book?

A&L: By writing strong characters who are powerfully drawn to one another. There is a lot of pressure in the industry to make the story hot, hot, hot, but we don’t want the sex to be dropped in just to meet some quota. We work hard to make the sensual encounters unfold naturally within the context of the story. Just like in real life, sex in novels can be boring and trite or fabulous and transcendent. Setting and mood, building the sexual tension, dreaming up fabulously sexy locations, all the pieces have to work together.

Delilah: You’re a husband/wife author team. So....who writes the sex scenes? And do you write them first, last?

A&L: Anthea writes the sex scenes. It is woman’s fiction, after all. Lawson will edit and conspire on mood and setup, and grumble that romance heroines are lazy and don’t give enough blow jobs, and that maybe the hero should go find work in a spy novel or mystery where he could really get some. Or he will ask how we are going to write with authenticity if we don’t try it all out in the bedroom first.
As far as when we write the scenes, they are written as they occur in the story. Since we are working to make the love scenes memorable and fresh, the last thing we want to do is write them in a big batch at the beginning or end.

Delilah: Speaking of research, do you research the sexual aspect of your characters in relation to their historical backdrop?

A&L: We do a lot of historical research. One of the things we love about the Victorian era is that there were very strict ideas about what was ‘proper’ but scratch that surface and you find all sorts of lovely opportunities for naughtiness. A perfect example is the scene where our hero and heroine meet. Lily is caught riding astride, her skirts hauled up and her bare legs on display. She is completely mortified. It’s the modern equivalent of having your shirt fly open on the day you’re not wearing a bra—in front of a total stranger who is very handsome and not shy about looking. One of the comments we got back from an editor reading early drafts of the work was, “Why just have her legs bare, why not have her top fly open.” We passed on that suggestion. It was more challenging and historically accurate to stay with the original idea. If we weren’t showing that this was the equivalent of getting caught skinny dipping by a handsome stranger, then we simply needed to do a better job of writing the scene.

Delilah: What is the heat level of your story? That is, if 1 is appropriate for a parlor full of kids and 10 is only appropriate for reading under the covers in one's bedchamber.

A&L: A 7 or 8. There is plenty of heat, but the story is not just an excuse to string sex scenes together. We care a great deal about character and the craft of writing a vivid, story that takes the reader on an emotional journey. The sex scenes come from a very emotionally driven place within the characters.

Delilah: What is your level of comfort when writing sex scenes into the story?

A&L: The love scenes are as fun to write as they are to read. Honestly they are some of the easiest parts of the story to write. Anthea tries to write an immersive sensual experience, and likes the challenge of finding fresh ways to describe the feelings and sensations of love-making—that universal arc of attraction, arousal, and satisfaction.

Delilah: Give us the four steamiest lines out of your book and what inspired you to write them.

A&L: The four steamiest lines? I’m afraid we would need to see a note from your doctor before we could do that. Besides, we have yet to agree on what those lines are. Anthea thinks they involve the Bey’s palace in Tunisia and a tangerine. Lawson thinks they can be found in the bathing tent scene somewhere near the following lines:
He stood and stripped off his coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to bare tanned, muscled forearms. Taking the washcloth, he settled on the low stool beside the tub. Let me begin with. . .” he directed a lazy, dangerous smile at her, “. . .your arm.”

To find out more about PASSIONATE, visit www.AntheaLawson.com

Mistress of Pleasure is finally here! Purchase a lesson...if you dare.

2008-09-02T07:24:00.001-07:00

Today is a very exciting day for me!!! Why? Because my first book, MISTRESS OF PLEASURE, officially hits stores. (Gleefully clapping hands here). Instead of the usual throwing of pitches and excerpts and what not, I decided to keep it simple.

Behind every book, there is a story. And needless to say, behind my upcoming debut, MISTRESS OF PLEASURE, which centers around a school that educates men on the topic of love and seduction, there are several. Because I don’t want to write a book about THE book, I’ve decided to elaborate as simply as I can about the inspiration behind the creation of MISTRESS OF PLEASURE. That inspiration first coming from my research, when I stumbled upon Ninon de L’Enclos, a French 17th century courtesan.

Truth be told, I find it rather astounding that this fascinating woman somehow disappeared into the shadows of history. She is but a ghost whenever the topic of courtesans arise. For we usually hear of the same old, same old courtesans like Kitty Fisher, Cora Pearl or Harriette Wilson. Let me be the first to tell you, however, that none of these women could possibly rival Ninon de L’Enclos or her life. But don’t take my word for it. Research her on your own and come to your conclusion. Bottom line, Ninon’s thoughts, philosophies, and her approach toward men and sex went beyond anything I have ever seen in a woman of her day.

Much like other courtesans, she kept her bedroom door open to aristocratic men, yes. But unlike other courtesans, she kept that bedroom door open for more than just sex. This woman actually held meetings and classes in the confines of her bedchamber where men of all ages would come to visit in order to discuss topics of sex, philosophy and love. These so-called meetings fascinated me and in turn, began to create the growing threads of what is now Mistress of Pleasure. The more I researched, the more excited I became. For there was almost too much to work with. For instance, Ninon had various lovers, as you might imagine. But to one lover in particular, she birthed a son. A son who was raised apart from her to never know who she was due to her being a courtesan. Then one day, when her son was a grown man, he happened to one day meet Ninon. And fell madly in love with her. (And no, I’m not bloody making this up…). Though she had sworn to never reveal her identity to her son, because his advances were growing more and more passionate and he altogether outright refused to leave her be, she finally told him the truth. That she was in fact his mother and that was why there would never be a sexual relationship between them. Her son was so overwhelmed and distraught by the confession, that he left her house and committed suicide by falling onto the blade of his own sword. Another story, somewhat less morbid, was about one man who begged and begged Ninon to admit him into her bed. She refused him time and time again and finally told him, “Return when I am eighty. Then I shall bed you.” The besotted fool took her words quite literally and arrived on her doorstep many, many years late, when she turned eighty. Ninon was so amused, she ended up bedding him, after all.

As you can tell by the stories I am selecting, it is the older Ninon that ultimately fascinated me. Which created a dilemma for my writing. Because my heroine couldn’t possibly be an elderly lady. It would never sell. But then I got to thinking. What if she were a grandmother of the heroine? Now THAT had possibilities. At about the same time I started writing AN IMPROPER EDUCATION (which is what I called it before the publisher changed it), MY grandmother re-appeared in my life. After 20 years of complete and utter silence. Which is a whole other story I don’t have time to go into… Soon, I discovered that the grandmother I never knew was actually an opera singer who had married into American Aristocracy and was living the life of a queen. My grandmother had an air of royalty to her and was quite beautiful for a woman her age. She had a heavy accent, walked with a sashay and always used amusing little words that I’d never heard before. For instance, she referred to sex as “Poom-poom.” She amused me so much so, that I could not help but morph her and Ninon together to create the fictional character that ultimately became Madame de Maitenon, who is both the creator of the School of Gallantry and the grandmother of my heroine, Maybelle de Maitenon. And so, I ended up with a story about a retired French courtesan who opens up a school that educates men on the topic of love and seduction, and the granddaughter who is unexpectedly forced to take over the operation of the school and educate all the men. Even though she has very little personal experience. Life certainly makes for some interesting fiction. And I have to say, I’m glad for it. At least in the case of this book. For an excerpt, more information or to sign up for my newsletter, please head over to my website, www.DelilahMarvelle.com In the meantime, anyone who posts today will be entered to win an autographed copy of my book, Mistress of Pleasure. So don't forget to post!
Cheers,
Delilah Marvelle

Mistress of Pleasure is almost here...

2008-08-30T11:02:00.001-07:00

Dearest Readers,

In celebration of my upcoming release of my historical romance, MISTRESS OF PLEASURE, instead of posting on 1st, as I usually do, I shall be posting on the 2nd, which is the official day of my release. Come celebrate with me, as I shall be posting not once, but several times during the day. Do join me for the celebration as I will be giving away an autographed copy of my book to one lucky caller!
Cheers,
Delilah Marvelle

Sex Between the lines of Classified Ads

2008-08-15T11:28:00.000-07:00

Many newspapers back in the day had what we call "classified" ads. It was their version of
E-Harmony.com, blind dates and so on. To those that think the Victorians were prudes with no flexibility whatsoever, I shall disagree with you this once when it comes to their newspapers and their naughty little ads. I have to say that putting in an ad in the newspaper back in the day gave a man or a woman a rare form of anonymity while allowing them to explore the opposite sex. The following ads are all from American newspapers back in the day. I plan to dig up British ones somewhere else down the road for your amusement, but hopefully, the American ads will prove to be more entertaining...

Behold some of my favorite examples:

February 18, 1864 New York Herald:
"Gentlemen, take notice -- I am in need of a husband; one who is educated and respectable. I am in my nineteenth year, considered good looking, of a very lively disposition, have plenty of friends but want someone to love, to smile when I smile, when I weep shall refrain."

One has to love her sense of humor.

February 14, 1868, New York Herald:
" A Gentleman worth $50,000 desire to marry a woman from 18 to 30 years old, who is willing to make home happy, with a view to matrimony. Send photographs; rejected ones returned if stamp is sent."

Clearly, he wants sex first, matrimony possible if sex is good.

November 24, 1865, New York Herald:
"A young lady, extravagantly fond of dress, desires the acquaintance of a wealthy gentleman; no other need answer; with a view to matrimony."

Oh, yes, that will have all the wealthy men knocking on her door. It seems no matter the era, women will always pine over wanting a rich man...

February 7, 1862:

"A gentleman, thirty years of age, in full health, possessed of ample means, well read, fond of poetry, good living and society, six feet in his socks, dark hair and eyes, called by his intimate friends "Handsome Jones" keeps a pair of road horses, can sing, dance and play the fiddle, belongs to no club, Free Mason or Odd Fellows Association, has no idea of going to the war at present, a good whistler, and upon the whole, a desirable person, wishes to make the acquaintance of some lady, with the ultimate view of matrimony. The lady must be plump, pleasant and pretty, not over twenty years of age (he is a great believer in the advantages of early marriage); dark complexion preferred, without curls, cotton or cosmetic; money of no account, in particular - still, some not objected to; must be a good dancer, without old aunts, uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers, or second, third, fourth, fifth or any other cousins (as the advertiser, although well off, cannot marry a whole family); good teeth, fond of children (the advertiser has none, however), kind to servants, domestic, chatty, clever, and well educated. None but with good intentions need apply. Answers, with full particulars of age, size, disposition, looks, likes and dislikes, will be treated confidentially and answered if send to Handsome Jones."

By far my favorite advertisement thus far! I personally am of the belief, that if he feels the need to keep calling himself "Handsome Jones" in the ad, I guarantee you he is anything but. However. One has to admire his determination.

March 21, 1866, New York Herald:

"If the lady who from an omnibus smiled on a gentleman with a bunch of bananas in his hand as he crossed Wall street, corner of Broadway, will address A, box 6,735, Post Office, she will confer a favor."

The poor man. He MUST be bananas...

January 2, 1892, New York World:
"Wanted, a young lady of German parentage; must be a 36 bust and understand bookkeeping on a small scale. Apply Milbaner & Bleiweiss."

Now this here is the most straightforward employer I've ever come across. Clearly.

Glimpsing ads from days of old gives us a sense of what the reality was for these poor souls in search of the perfect sex mate. I mean...soul mate. Curiously enough, I don't feel times have changed all that much. We all still want handsome and rich. And men, God bless them, still want a particular bust size. Which was the entire point of this here post. Now for a bit of fun! If you were going to take out an ad in 1865 in order to land your sex mate (or soul mate, for those of you that are hopelessly romantic) how would you write it? Note that every person who posts their "classified" ad here, shall be automatically entered into my Gift Card Giveaway posted on my gossip page of my website.

I give thee my own advertisement:

"A fairly pretty young lady with remarkable talents which shall be disclosed upon the selection of one lucky gent, is seeking a fine gentleman with his own set of remarkable talents pending that he is handsome, well endowed and wealthy. Talents that include drinking, smoking, gambling, and womanizing need not apply."

A woman with crotch Part 2

2008-07-28T13:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
This is Part 2 of Maggie Grover's A Woman With Crotch. I promise to

resume my regular posts

on August 15th.
Cheers,
Delilah Marvelle

Hello again from the middle of the first century CE. For those of you who didn’t read my last posting, this blog is the second of two parts about Boudica, a woman who stood up, spoke up, and made a difference (AKA a woman with crotch) -- despite five Romans and one Iceni king (Prasutagus, her husband) doing their darndest to make life difficult.
To refresh your memory, Boudica was a queen from the Iceni tribe who was called a tall, tawny-haired woman with a fierce aspect. Basically, a woman capable of scaring the pants off the men of the Roman Empire. Her country had been invaded by two famous Romans -- Julius Caesar and Claudius -- and things were not going well.
When Claudius was assassinated, Nero, the third Roman, became Emperor. This wasn’t a good thing for Britain. Nero, as did his predecessors, looked to Britain to fill his coffers.
Boudica’s husband, Prasutagus, died (of natural causes) after years of working with Rome in an effort to ease the suffering of his people. His last act of appeasement was to change his will. Did he have Boudica’s advice and consent? We don’t know, but given what happened, I wonder. Prasutagus was a man who was longa opulentia clarus – long renowned for his wealth -- yet he didn’t fully appreciate the avarice of either Nero or Decianus Catus, the Procurator of Britain. He's the fourth Roman and he lit the spark to the whole thing.
Prasutagus left half his estate to their two daughters and half to Nero. He named Boudica as regent. It wasn’t Boudica being named queen that was the problem. It was the “half of the estate” that wasn’t going to Nero -- it was the Roman version of “show me the money!”
Decianus Catus had orders from Nero to inventory everything Prasutagus had and then, to, well, just take it. He could, of course, keep a finder’s fee, if he was unscrupulous. Turned out he was. Boudica objected. Strongly. After all, there were treaties in place between their two people. There was a long history of mutual benefit. She was a queen, a woman, and as such, deserved respect. Decianus Catus didn’t want to hear any of it. He thought of her, and her people, as low-life rabble to be swept aside for the glory that was Rome. There was only one way to subdue rabble intent on rebellion. He ordered Boudica stripped and flogged and her two daughters, as spoils of war, to be raped.
This practice had worked well in other areas of the Roman Empire, but Decianus Catus had severely underestimated the Celts. Boudica was a warrior+queen+priestess. He had just violated one of the most sacred people of a tribe of warriors, and violated her daughters as well. Decianus Catus had thought it rebellion, well, now he really had one.
Boudica called her people to war. For specific details, I recommend Richard Hingley’s Boudica; Graham Webster’s Boudica and Antonia Fraser’s The Warrior Queens. I’ll just touch the highlights –
Boudica and her army went after Camulodunum (modern Colchester), the first colonia in Britain, which means it was inhabited pensioned soldiers. The traditional reward for Roman service was to be given the lands of the conquered. Beats having to shell out money for an employee IRA. To make matters worse, the veterans drove the locals from their lands, forced them into slavery and ordered them to build a Roman temple -- the highest insult for it was not to be a sacred place of worship in a grove, but rather a stone and mortar symbol of their subjugation. Boudica, and her army, cornered the soldiers in the temple and "took no prisoners".
Next, Boudica sent a party to ambush a legion. A legion! Needless to say, afterwards, the commander had some serious explaining to do to avoid being ordered to fall on his own sword.
Boudica, with the successes compelling her on, set her sights on Londinium (modern London) – it didn’t rank as a true Roman settlement, but was a vital center for commerce – Roman fortunes were being made there. They burned it to the ground and sacrificial offerings made of the inhabitants who’d “commerced” with the Romans.
Then, Verulamium (modern St. Albans), a smaller settlement populated by Britons friendly to the Romans was conquered – perhaps as a lesson to anyone “sleeping with the enemy”?
It seemed it might actually be possible to throw off the Roman yoke at last.
Enter the fifth Roman. The Governor of Britain, Suetonius Paulinus was in Wales, campaigning (so jolly-sounding a word for something that included enslaving the locals, taking their property) when he received word. He mustered an army of 10,000 men, but apparently was heavily outnumbered, so he chose his battle site carefully. The annals speak of a place where there was a sharp rise in the ground. Unfortunately for Boudica and her army, it was good planning on the part of Suetonius. The Celt battle strategy was to instill fear by using a headlong, weapon swinging, war-cry shouting race forward. If the Romans had the high ground, the Celts would have to run uphill. After a valiant battle, Boudica and her army lost.
Afterwards, Britain was not a happy place for years. However, Rome was so shocked by Boudica's rebellion, they re-vamped their policies to be more understanding towards Britain and other territories.
And what of Boudica? One source says she took poison, the other postulates she died on the field of battle. Either way, I like to think her spirit lives on in every woman who draws the line in the sand and says, “Treat me with respect, treat me as an equal. Or else.”

A woman with crotch

2008-07-15T08:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,
As I am still on holiday, and will be for a bit longer (believe me, I bloody needed it), I have pulled in yet another fabulous resource to help me post while I am away. The fabulous and talented Maggie Grover. Please post! This is but post 1 of 2. I promise to begin posting once again come August 15th.
Cheers,
Delilah Marvelle

First, I’d like to thank Delilah for inviting me to her blog. She and I go back many years. I won’t reveal how many, for a woman never posts her age, nor the age of her friends. Suffice it to say, I’ve known Delilah since shortly after she first learned to play the pianoforte and she is quite accomplished at it now. It’s truly an honor to post here, as I, too, share her great love of stories as well as her passion to discuss things that most would shy away from. Perhaps this passion stems from both of us being voracious readers and we’ve learned to never underestimate the power of reading, especially the power of reading banned books. It causes you to ask questions. Questions about the story of Adam and Eve. Questions about sex. And, as Delilah put it in her first post, questions about why, even in the earliest forms of writing about history and culture, men controlled women’s sexuality and the telling of their stories. We wanted to know more about HER-story, not HIS-story.
So, my postings will be about women who stood up, spoke up, and made a difference. Or, as a friend of mine calls it, women who have crotch. And, yes, there were plenty of women before our times who had crotch, we just haven’t heard about most of them. As I mainly write historical novels about the people of Great Britain, I’ll tell you the tale of one of their all-time favorite heroines who had uber-crotch. She was Boudica (or Boudicea) by name, warrior+queen+priestess by game. And what a game it was. Limited written sources do exist, and two Roman historians (Dio Cassius and Tacitus) speak of a tall, tawny-haired woman with a fierce aspect. Basically, a woman capable of scaring the pants off the men of the Roman empire – well, not literally, because the Romans wore a garment more like a tunic. Anyway, you get the idea, she made the Romans tremble -- and not in a good way. Tacitus researched his biography of Boudica by reading documents of the time. Dio Cassius interviewed his father-in-law, one of the Romans who had his pants scared off. I think Dio Cassius described the Roman mindset best when he wrote, “Moreover, all this ruin was brought upon the Romans by a woman, a fact which in itself caused them the greatest shame.” What was the ruin? Well, again with Dio Cassius -- a “great shock to the Roman government for rarely in their annals had there been a rebellion of such magnitude and ferocity.”
Rebellion? Led by a woman? But why? How? Well, around 60 CE, Boudica lived near what is now Norfolk, England and was married to an Iceni king, although she most likely was a queen in her own right – some say from the Iceni tribe itself, or possibly even as far away as Ireland. Either way, she was a woman of power, from the upper class, which if you were a Celt, meant you were trained in the art of a warrior, and more than likely, in the spiritual, or druidic arts as well, for the Celts were a people with a rich and complex culture, worthy of a series of their own blog-postings. Which reminds me, Boudica’s story is no less rich, so to do her justice, this will be a two-part posting.
Now, the backstory to her rebellion. Five Romans and one Iceni king (Boudica’s husband) figure in the mix. Three of the men you’ve probably heard of - the other three, probably not. The first was a Roman general who really, really liked being in charge of Rome and its provinces. Think of it – all that power, all that money, and throw in the possibility of being made a god by the people? What upwardly mobile male worth his testosterone wouldn’t like that? So, he asked himself, how can I expand on this? Why, simple -- get more resources for Rome or save Rome from Her enemies. What kind of resources? Iron and tin. And who were her enemies? Well, let’s see, Rome in 55 BCE pretty much included everything bordering the Mediterranean, give or take a few countries like Egypt with her soon-to-be Queen Cleopatra (this is a hint as to who the general was). Said general decides that the most exciting place left was a mysterious island across the channel from what we now call France. The place was inhabited by, as viewed by the Romans, sword-wielding, grove-worshipping barbarians. And, what a coincidence, the barbarian’s land just happened to have iron and tin. This general assured the Roman senate that the resources weren’t what the conflict was really about. He simply wanted to bring the benefits of a Roman way of life to them. The general’s name? Julius Caesar.
It wasn’t really much of an invasion, but it did lay the groundwork for the next one, and Caesar did get a really nice triumphal parade out of it. Jump ahead almost 100 years. Claudius, the fourth Roman emperor, realizes he, too, needs to have a military triumph. Where better? So, off Claudius went to the mysterious island. He invaded, made a slew of treaties with the local Celtic kings he had no intention of keeping, then returned to Rome just in time for his triumphal march. Only thing is, the men he left behind weren’t exactly, shall we say, politically correct? Jump ahead a few years, the cost of living is up, slavery is on the rise, local resources are being plundered and it’s time for a fiddle-playing emperor to come to power. It’s also the time for Boudica’s husband to die…and alas, I'm out of space. The rest of Boudica's story will have to wait until my next post. In the meantime, feel free to post your favorite uber-woman from history and be sure and tell us why.

The Bawdy Bard

2008-06-30T20:28:00.000-07:00

A quick note to all my dear readers. You are in for a devious treat! We have a surprise guest blogger with us today, Maire Jolie, my brilliant critique partner. As I am currently on vacation, I am away from all my books and resources, so I pulled in the next best resource I have...Maire!
Please leave her a commentary and do be warned. This is not your mother's Shakespeare....
Cheers,
Delilah Marvelle

First and foremost, thanks Delilah for inviting me to post! I love this blog and love working with you. So without further ado, onto today’s post.

THE BAWDY BARD
What, with my tongue in your tail?
The Taming of The Shrew

It’s epidemic. This time of year, Shakespeare is everywhere and outdoors. It’s finally glorious summer and thousands of fans head out to the green grasses, plunk their bums down on the hard ground, crack out the wine and sit back and revel in the fabulous magic and bloody (sometimes quite literally) good wit of this long gone playwright. I myself am fortunate enough to work behind the scenes of one of our countries fine Shakespeare festivals. And yet, I am here today to discuss my favorite part of the bard. His baaaadness. Will was a very, very naughty boy who liked to get down and get dirty.
In the grand tradition of academia, Shakespeare devotees fall into two camps. Those who read and those who do. The ideas of the two groups are continually at war what with iambic pentameter, plosives, assonance, etc. etc. Those who read, glory in Shakespeare’s poetic form. Those who do, well, they have a tendency to like to rock and roll with the more cheeky parts. Sadly, most high school students, and I dare say victims of university literary professors (though not all) are subject to what I like to call purists.
Webster defines a purist as someone who believes in the “strict observance of or insistence on precise usage or on application of formal, often pedantic rules.” Acck! Why would you want to apply this to Shakespeare? And yet, countless people around the globe insist on the purity of Shakespeare’s form, the use of his scansion, and the fact that there is only one way to do Hamlet. I ask you, would Shakespeare’s plays have survived so long if there were only one way to do them . . . and if they didn’t have lots of naughty bits? As Benedick says in Much Ado About Nothing, “No! The world must be peopled!” And though Shakespeare only had three children (the first conceived out of wedlock and with what today we might call a cougar) he certainly liked to write about copulation. And from his sonnets and plays there’s no doubt he probably had a lot of experience with it.
For those of you who think of Shakespeare as boring, posturing, and pompous, I give you Sonnet 135.
Ahem.

Sonnet 135
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus;
More than enough am I, that vex thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in Will, add to thy Will
One will of mine, to make thy large Will more.
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.

Innocent enough right? Its beautiful, it has sonnet form. It scans. Mwahahahaha. Now. Read it again. And at *Will* replace Will with penis and or vagina. See how it reads then. Or if you want the easy way out, courtesy of No Fear Shakespeare:

Sonnet 135

Other women may have their little desires, but you have your Will , and another Will as well, and more Will than you need. I, who am constantly pestering you for sex, am more than enough to satisfy you, adding another willing penis to the Will you already have. Since your sexual desires (and vagina) are both so enormous, won't you agree just once to let me put my desire inside yours? Are you going to be attracted to everyone else's will (penis), but reject mine? The sea is entirely made of water, but it still accepts additional water whenever it rains. So you, who already have a William, should in addition to your lover William accept my will (penis), making your sexual appetite (or vagina), which is already huge, even huger. Don't kill an eager seducer by being unkind to him. Treat all your lovers as a single lover, and accept me (and my part) as part of that lover.

Anybody need a fan? How often does your guy offer you his penis to please your enormous desire when ever you want and how often you want? Hmm? But in all honesty, during the Elizabethan/early Stuart period, Will was synonymous with penis, sometimes vagina, and sometimes also desire. Interestingly, enough ring frequently meant vagina which gave a whole new meaning to the guys giving their wives’ rings away in The Merchant of Venice. Try reading the end of that play with that new view. And nothing quite literally could mean No Thing. And well ladies, you really have no thing, right? So Much Ado About Nothing might be translated as Much Ado About Vaginas and given the nature of the play that wouldn’t surprise me if that’s exactly what it meant, and people in that period certainly would have known about the dirty little joke.
It doesn’t come close to stopping here. We could take a walk through the never ending double entendre of The Taming of the Shrew but instead, I thought it would be fun to take a quick look at Shakespeare’s opinion on virginity.
Okay, so when he wrote the dad parts, there’s no question; girls were to keep their legs locked firmly together and any opening of them would condemn said daughter to the fiery pits of hell. However, when Shakespeare wrote the young guy parts his opinion on virginity did a 180. Romeo can’t stand it that Rosalind won’t give it up. And frankly, when Juliet sends him off, he wants to know why she “will leave (him) so unsatisfied.” But the real coup de grace, the one that takes it all is from All’s Well That End’s Well. So, I’ll leave you with this saucy section with Parolles and Helena.

PAROLLES
Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be
blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with
the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It
is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to
preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational
increase and there was never virgin got till
virginity was first lost. That you were made of is
metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost
may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is
ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with 't!

HELENA
I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

PAROLLES
There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the
rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity,
is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible
disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin:
virginity murders itself and should be buried in
highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate
offen dress against nature. Virginity breeds mites,
much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very
paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach.
Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of
self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the
canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose
by't: out with 't! within ten year it will make
itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the
principal itself not much the worse: away with 't!

So, I’m not a fan of losing my virginity (though I can’t exactly lose what I’ve already lost :D) just to get more virgins, i.e. have children. But hail Shakespeare for declaring it a cold companion. Have a closer look at this scene Act 1, sc1 with No Fear Shakespeare.
Thanks for the chance to chat about the bard with you all!

The Temple of...sexual doom?

2008-06-15T09:05:00.000-07:00

Indiana Jones would have had QUITE the erotic adventure if he had decided to treasure hunt in the Babylonian temple known as the temple of Mylitta. Sadly, the temple of Mylitta no longer exists and therefore it has been buried with history forever. But history has a way of rearing its little head, doesn't it? Many know about Greek and Roman deities and how sex was associated with a particular god. Babylonians had their own form of deities, as well. In particular, Mylitta. She was a very fascinating version of Aphrodite. Now before I go on any farther, do allow me to update you with a bit of history which will only add to your blissful educational experience. Babylon was once said to lie in the land of Shinar and the word Babylon is but a Greek version of the Hebrew name known as Babel. Ah yes...do you all remember the tower of Babel in the Old Testament of the bible? If you don't, do look it up after you read this post. Now Babylonians were obsessed with temples and worshipping their gods. They were madly festive in nature and lived life to its fullest. As did the Greeks and the Romans and every deity orientated culture.

Here is where I return back to the topic at hand. Mylitta. There were many rules and laws surrounding the worship of Mylitta. And one in particular, which this entire post evolves around. By law, Mylitta, the goddess of love, wanted every woman in the kingdom of Babylon to go into the temple of Mylitta once in her lifetime. For a specific purpose. Obviously, because you know how naughty I am by nature, you can only assume what that purpose was for. But what, pray you, in particular happened in this temple? What did Mylitta expect of the mortal woman once she was inside? I shall post that on the first of July. No, no. I jest. Of course I'll tell you. A mortal woman was expected to prostitute herself once in her lifetime. Indeed. No matter how pious, how rich, how prude she was. Off she was to go to the temple. Hmmmm. Sounds as if men figured out a way to get sex out of the women who wouldn't give it up by simply making it A LAW. Heavens above. (No pun intended there...) One could only imagine the men milling around on the inside and outside of Mylitta's temple. Just waiting. And circling. Like the sex deprived vultures that they were. Those naughty, naughty Babylonians!! Who would have ever thought? No wonder God had issues with them....
Now we know these things about them through ancient texts, relics and what not. As I said history cannot hide itself completely from archaeologists (or Indiana Jones). I give thee a version of Herodotus that best explains what had been expected and how things took place once inside (mind you I will be making commentaries between these texts...of course!): "Many women, proud of their great wealth and desirous of keeping themselves apart from the vulgar (even though they were about to become vulgar themselves...ehm) travelled in a closed and covered carriage (so that the men on the street wouldn't come running and stumbling to flip up their togas the moment Lady X drove up to make her sexual sacrifice to Mylitta). She was followed by a number of maidservants into the temple. (Though maids they were not for long...). When a woman became seated she could not return home (can you bloody imagine?!) until one of the men (milling about the temple looking for a good frig) threw down a gold piece into her lap and said, "I demand you in the name of Mylitta.'" The woman would then have no choice but to follow the stranger outside the temple and have intercourse with the man. Obviously, sex INSIDE the temple was a bit too much for Mylitta. She wanted everything to happen OUTSIDE. For the entire world to see. So much for the earlier display of coming in with a covered carriage. And sadly, this was expected from every woman once in her lifetime be she married or not, be she old or not, be she sick or not. Mylitta would be waiting. As would all the men.... That being said, I shall end this post with a single visual response from myself to all the men of Babylonia. For shame.

My Secret Life

2008-05-31T21:40:00.000-07:00

No. This isn't going to be a post about MY secret life. Heaven forbid I share that with you.... This post will be dedicated to the book known as "My Secret Life." For those of you that have not discovered this naughty bit of Victorian history, I encourage you to get your hot little hands on this book immediately. After you read this post, that is. It is crude, rude, but gives a form of historical insight into a secret Victorian mindset that is rarely glimpsed. My Secret Life is also one of largest erotic piece of literature ever written in the form of an autobiography. What is even more fascinating is that its author is for the most part unknown. There are speculations, theories, and what not, but nothing that has ever been proven. Whoever the horny man was, he was an British gent born of wealth sometime between the year 1820-1825. And according to his book he squandered countless funds and years on women and gambling. So entertaining was his life it seemed, that at the age of five and twenty, he began penning his erotic adventures. One by one by one by one by one... More than a hundred to be exact. It was then about 1860 that he had the idea to print it. Yet he was "emotionally" torn. Torn between burning it or printing it. Obviously, because we have the book in our hands today, he much preffered to burn his reputation instead. His take? "It would be a sin to burn all this, whatever society may say. It is but a narrative of human life, perhaps the every day life of thousands..." Which meant he bloody debauched enough women in his life to think THOUSANDS would be able to compare... Yes, he certainly knew how to stroke his ego and his cock, didn't he? So in 1882, he summoned a printer who specialized in erotica to come from Amsterdam into England. Six copies were to be printed, then the original typeset and manuscript destroyed so that no more could be reproduced. Some speculate that the printer himself was naughty and printed himself off an extra copy to keep under his tick. Which may or may not explain its survival... Each of those six copies consisted of a set of 11 volumes. (Yes, he did try to live life for the rest of the population...) Yet only three of those original copies remain today. What is unique about its survival is that given the Victorian times, erotic literature in private collections rarely survived their owners. Why? Because they were deemed by the remaining family as evil and destroyed. What few people seem to know is that the printing of erotic prose did not become illegal during the Victorian times, but rather on January 29, 1527. At precisely two o'clock (I jest about the 2 o'clock bit, LOL. I simply couldn't resist). Edicts were passed and religious censorship swept across Europe and in turn affected the open publication of erotic literature. Rather fascinating to think that hundreds of years later and we still have the mindset of those in 1527. Now for those of you who have made it this far through the post, I promise not to disappoint and will leave you with a condensed listing of what was in these books as well as a snippet. Read on....if you dare.
INDEX: "Copulation: 1.) The two most natural modes are the best. 2.) A woman may be enjoyed by two men at the same time. 3.) The woman should not be quite naked. 4.) The woman has more pleasure than the man... 5.) Pleasures of rape. 6.) Time when a virgin should be enjoyed... Preliminaries described. Various postures enumerated. Monotony condemned. Copulating and Copulative organs: - an essay on, the nature of, described fully, aesthetic aspects of, is not obscene or filthy, is obedience to the Divine commands "Increase and multiply." Eccentric postures: - against field gates (ouch), against railings (to hold on to), against trees (splinters, anyone?), against windows (for the world to see, I suppose), against a bed (finally!), against a kitchen dresser (dinner, anyone?)."
Deep breath out. General idea of index is done with. Now for the last act (no pun intended...).
I give thee a paragraph from My Secret Life: (do not read if you blush easily) "Nature has placed the woman's clitoris so that it cannot escape man's fingers. If a woman closes her thighs tightly, a man cannot from the front get his finger into the cunt hole; and from the back, the arse cheeks close, so that without violence he cannot do it, even when she be standing up, altho as easily then, as from the front...What often astonishes me is my desire to do again every thing sexual and erotic, which I have already done. Yet many things done, I fancied I should never repeat. For instance, that I frigged a man. My curiosity satisfied, I said to myself, "I shall never frig a man again...."
As you can see, this is but a glimpse into HUNDREDS of pages evolving around sex, sex, and more sex. I know for a fact that if anyone ever dares to point out to me that MY writing is naughty, I shall roll my eyes and direct them kindly over to 'My Secret Life'....