But now everyone's all wrapped up in the game, watching the women kick the jiggly dildo into the walls, the furniture, and each other. "Fuckin' gravity!" Producer yells, as the fake penis goes thunking to the ground again.
Python holds the dildo between her feet and then jump-kicks upward, launching the package toward the kitchen doorway, where Producer's girlfriend's mother — who just arrived in town not an hour ago — has suddenly appeared. Producer's face turns crimson and everybody busts out laughing, while the poor woman stands in the doorway with a dildo at her feet and a puzzled look on her face. "I just wanted a soda," she stammers. "Sorry, I didn't know you were, uh, playing cock soccer."
Everybody cracks up. Nothing's shocking (or typical) with the Pussy Posse Girls. The 12 active troupe members are all hot bisexual or lesbian women with stage names that start with the letter P: Prez, Producer, Python, Piercer, Playa, Pet, Pinup, PleaZer, Pandora, Pyro, Priestess, and Princess. They wield bags full of things like rope, clothespins, blindfolds, paddles, whips, and electric shock prods. Most of them have tattoos and piercings; some of them have silicone and magnetic implants, courtesy of world-renowned body modification expert Steve Haworth; and all of them have a wet spot for the spotlight. Their sexually charged, fetish-centered performances are choreographed to songs by artists ranging from Madonna to Pantera, and they include anything that's legal for them to perform in a public place (i.e., anything that doesn't "simulate a sex act" or show nudity).
Formed a little more than a year ago, the troupe has already garnered a huge following in the Valley. At the Arizona Fetish Ball in October — where, interestingly, actor Anthony Michael Hall was hanging out in the VIP area — some guy was chatting me up, and kept telling me over and over how I had to check out the Pussy Posse.
Finally, I told him, "Dude, I've checked out the Pussy Posse in ways you only wish you could."
I've been dating the marginally infamous Miss CooKie, a.k.a. the Prez, for more than a year, and I've been hanging around the Posse a lot for the past few months. I'm an insatiable lesbian horn dog, and Miss CooKie's a commitment-phobic, polyamorous playa who shares "her girls" with me. So that's where I'm coming from — the luckiest place on Earth.
This past Halloween weekend, I spent three nights with the troupe at the Stardust in Las Vegas, where the Pussy Posse Girls performed in front of more than 6,000 people on both the second and main stages at the 2006 Fetish & Fantasy Halloween Ball. It was the last weekend at the Stardust before the legendary hotel was razed, and when there's a huge party in a building that's about to get torn down, things can get beyond crazy.
The usually dominant CooKie performed on the second stage as a submissive with nationally known fetish model Rubber Doll, getting stripped, paddled, and doused with hot candle wax by a nun with a huge black strap-on dildo protruding from her rubber habit. P2, as the Posse is often referred to, slapped and whipped the shit out of each other on stage to the tune of Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up."
Over the course of the weekend, we wiped out a nearby Walgreens' supply of "Maximum 5-Hour Energy" drinks, broke one of the shower doors and windows at the Stardust, got accused of using up all the hot water in the hotel, chased gay boys in gold lamé underwear down the hallway, drunkenly took over the dance floor at Treasure Island, and terrorized the costumed characters walking around the Star Trek theme restaurant in the Hilton ("You're a borg? Does that mean you can't procreate? Do you have a penis? What's borg sex like?").
But the sexy, surreal scenes around the Posse Girls aren't limited to Vegas. At the first rehearsal I ever sat in on at Producer's house, I found myself down on all fours on a concrete floor, while Nine Inch Nails' "Get Down Make Love" blared from the stereo, and hot chicks smacked my ass, grabbed my boobs, and shoved my head into the surrounding sea of crotches. Somebody from the troupe couldn't make it, so I volunteered to get molested.
Getting sexed up at Pussy Posse rehearsals is always fun, but I'm not volunteering to sit in for anybody at tonight's "Naughty X-Mas" rehearsal at Producer's house, mainly because my sides hurt from laughing about the "cock soccer" game I just witnessed, but also because I'm already tired of hearing "Santa Baby" over and over. Most of this "rehearsal" consists of discussions anyway. The troupe has rewritten "The 12 Days of Christmas," replacing "three French hens" with "three French ticklers"; "five golden rings" with "five cock rings"; and so on. How to handle their corresponding props is the hot topic.
"I can definitely carry six candles burning," says Pyro, a newer member of the troupe who has a large silicone implant in the shape of a cross between her breasts. This freaks out a lot of people, especially when Pyro tells them she got it from falling down in church.
For the Pussy Posse Girls' performance of "Jingle Bells," everyone plans to come out topless except for red pasties with bells hanging from them, and then jump up and down to make the bells jingle.
"But all of our boobs aren't going to land at the same time," Pinup points out. "Some of you have smaller breasts, but more top-heavy people like me and Pyro will be a little behind, because of gravity. And Pyro can't go completely topless. She's got to have some sort of binding."
Pyro, who has real F-cup breasts, assures everyone she'll be strapped in somehow. "If I didn't and I jumped up and down like that, I'd kill myself," she states, matter-of-fact.
Then it's back to freakin' "Santa Baby," but this time I'm okay because I'm right in front of the chair where Santa (Producer, in this case) is getting a series of lap dances from the Posse Girls. When Pyro sits on her lap, she says, "I've never done this before, so I have no idea what I'm doing —"
As she says this, she grabs hold of the chair behind Producer and falls backward, pulling Producer and the chair down on top of her to the sound of hysterical laughter. One of Producer's girlfriend's cats — a little black thing with some white spots — is running around them, meowing up a storm.
CooKie elbows me and snickers. "That's some out-of-control pussy right there."
