Russian Sex Pirates

19 Aug


So, the woman who keeps my tongue placed properly, with good “O’s,” is also a Russian Sex Pirate, and I mean…there’s a resume if I’ve ever seen one…

Our wizard of dialects, whom I’ve worked with several-many times (I’ve lost count now) across the years, is also a published author of sex-niche literature aimed mostly at same gender/sci fi markets. As she calls it, “Lots of naughty men”…and sometimes, in space. Course she gives the lesbians some lovin’ too…but the point is: it’s a very specific market. Which could easily (I would think) make her a zillionaire one day, if she ever decided to take it to the big-screen. Instead, she seems totally content to work with Shakespeare and history, teach people the ins and outs of a specific location dialect, and be a covert sex pirate in places like Russia, where her illegally translated works have found their way into the hearts of people whom she has taken a map out to find are located in the middle of fucking nowhere.

…How do they find her?

…How does the porn translate (and who is doing it?)

…How is there a market for it there, when they don’t even have a market for fruit and veg?

…All questions I certainly know that I am curious about, but we prob’ly won’t ever get to the bottom of. Because it’s in a nowhere place, and the woman who wrote to her for an autograph wasn’t really up on the English thing. But that’s okay, because apparently she intends to use these books to teach her better English…which means that even with the pirate Russian copy, she’s now somehow obtained a pirate English copy as well, and will be compare-contrasting line for line…like Tom Hanks with the guide books, in that “Terminal” movie. Only sexier.

(Least that’s how it all happens in my head.)

…Which just makes me wonder. What kind of conversational English is this woman going to be absorbing, exactly? Cuz, this is a whole different thing than watching TV soap operas to learn Spanish. This sort of immersion could become quite the sticky wicket, when you get down to it. Not that anyone in her village would know really, as I’m fairly sure there is no one there to Police her on the topics she chooses to rattle on about in some foreign language. But if gay space porn can inspire her to learn a new language…what ELSE might it inspire in her? Perhaps “travel” is in her future. And how awkward might that be (little-known to herself) …standing in line at the passport counter in immigration, answering questions like:

Officer: “What is the purpose of your visit?”
Russian Porn Fan: “I wish to have inter-galactic sex-experience with many mens, and womens, not of my people.”
Officer: “How long do you intend on staying?”
Russian Porn Fan: “Across millennia. For a week, last year…or maybe two.”
Officer: “Do you know anyone in the U.S.?”
Russian Porn Fan: “Yes. Writer. Many good-time books of space. And mens. With mens. And womens. With womens.”
Officer: “Do you have any fruit or vegetables?”
Russian Porn Fan: “Veg-e-ta-bles, no good. Spoil. Use non-latex, only. Like this.”
Officer: “Have you anything to declare?”
Russian Porn Fan: “Lube. Many flavor. I pick up, France, on way. Yes, okay?”

…I mean…think about the world that could open up for this woman, using porn as her first gateway into a language. Our language. Would it saturate her to the point of simple acceptance…making statements without even thinking twice, which we would turn twelve kinds of red in embarrassment over?

Gassing up in Oregon: “Stick it in, fill me up all ways…mmm, good.”

In the Bible Belt: “What you use for flag-ell-a-tion? Leather crop, or whip?”

In Texas: “You lasso first, then wrist and feet to tie up like cow?”

In Vegas: “So this: America-Amsterdam?”

In LA: “Village of many plastic robot womens! Is true! This place of science experiment for alien peoples lifeforms?!”

In SF: “This Castro street fair, is ‘pay-to-play’?”

In Florida: “The old-time-mens all eat pill like candy, and sit by pool to watch, like TV sex-movie. For why, please?”

Anywhere, watching Fox News: “These people, need: ‘hello orgasm nice to meet you,’ then no more face-talk angry all-time.”

…On and on.

…And, ohmygod, what if she were to discover Comic Con?! Would her mind just fucking EXPLODE with fantasy-come-to-life, over-stimulation?! Suddenly to openly begin weeping from pure joy…surrounded by Trekkies, and aliens, space blasters and furries screwing each other in hallways…Cosplayers totally in character who wouldn’t break it if they were lit on fire (therefore in much the same mindset of believability as her.) To have traveled thousands of miles away from her tiny home village, and have stumbled upon Mecca…her tribe…could you imagine the effect that would have on you???

…And all because she somehow, once upon a time, picked up a pirated copy of specifically themed literature, written by the woman who is a Shakespearean linguist by trade, and a sex-nerd, by fate.


Mind. Blown.

…Study on, you slavic fan-girl! And may the force be with (and in) you!


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