Bash Compactor: The Slut with the Camera

Written by Emilia Barrosse on . Posted in Bash Compactor, Posts.


It was the most
attention-grabbing slideshow presentation anyone in the room had ever seen. In
the basement of the Museum of Sex, which sits in the shadow of the Empire State
Building, a motley group of people were staring wide-eyed and clutching cans of
PBR. At the helm of the slideshow, demurely sipping a red wine and guiding the
dumbstruck audience through the photos she took of her own sexploits, was
photographer Liz Earls. The
confidence with which she stood—not to mention her sexy, form-fitting black dress—made
it immediately apparent why she is the most famous (and probably most active)
cougar of all time, a title she wears with pride and distinction.

“Let’s face it,” Earls said
with a quizzical smile, “I’m the slut with the camera!”

“Yeah!” a twenty-something
guy yelled, shyly raising a PBR in honor of Earls’ sex-goddess status.

Earlier, I had spoken with
Earls about her new book of photos, Days of the Cougar, as we were surrounded by the sex museum’s dildos and
pocket-vibrators that were silently guarded by a sign warning, “Please do not
touch, lick, stroke or mount the exhibits.” We shook hands and spoke for 15 glorious minutes.

“This whole thing really all
started when I had a guy’s balls in my mouth and he said, ‘Quick! Grab a
camera!’” she admitted.

A pack of hungry boys that
didn’t look a day over 19 spilled into the room, and Earls jerked her head
around to acknowledge the new meat. They looked as though they had just
traveled to the promised land and finally laid eyes on their prophet.

“You know,” she said, while
running her hands through her finely coiffed hair, “I don’t so much go after
younger men as they come to me.” And she wasn’t kidding. She told me a story
about how she picked up a gorgeous, young Australian man in an elevator at a
hotel. “We just looked at each other and immediately knew we were going to fuck
each other hard,” she said. “And we did.”

Later, as Earls’ editor, Dian
Hansen
, introduced Earls and her new book of photography
aptly titled Days of the Cougar,
a legion of young suitors stared at Earls with the reverence I’ve seen in the
eyes of those admiring the Pope. Earls held some mystical power over them; they
spoke quietly amongst themselves as she spoke.

“We’ll never be in one of
those,” said one sadly, gesturing to the pictures on display.

“Never say never,” said
another.

“How far do you think she
could get that microphone in her mouth?”

“I think I should be taking
notes.”

I had had my fill of Earls’
vagina for the evening, so I headed out. As I left the building amongst the
clatter of people flipping through erotic books while commenting, “She does
legs, too!” “Uh huh, and butts,” I realized exactly what it meant to have
shaken her hand. I reached slowly for my pocket-sized Purell as I headed to the
6 train.

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