Wild Prose on Love and Desires by Designer TJP

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I write prose to relieve tension and cool the fire of desire that may have accumulated in the last year, last month, or last night toward someone special. I know you've been there before. You're surviving traffic on the freeway and suddenly you see someone smiling at you. It's love and lust at first sight and you both know it, but maybe due to marriage or boyfriend-girlfriend obligations, you can't do a darn thing about the stove heat temperature of sensuality filling up in your car. Turn on your defroster, set it to cool and read on.

Okay, okay, the prose I'm writing is starting to get too hot for the timid out there. I'm about to get completely out of control with women, just like Elvis. -TJP

Designer TJP feelings update (spoiler alert - some notes, below, are excerpts from 2 upcoming Designer TJP Coffee Table Books "Clubland" and "Dancefloor Etiquette") - "Wow! Okay, so that's how I "rolled'" for the last maybe 25 years, give or take. Will leave my older prose up here because they all bring me back fun and dangerous memories. Unfortunately, for the new Girls entering my life, I've kind of romantically burned out. Guess I'm still unable to commit to anything serious, yet. What this means is, I won't be begging you for your number, then call you the next day and everyday after that. If I see you hump 3 dudes down the dance club hallway, after you chatted me up and "tongued" my face, just 12 minutes earlier, don't worry, be happy. I jus' might throw you a tissue wipe from the bar (to help wipe off the wolf-dude's bad hair grease from your face..or wherever..). I will try to find you, in the "outside world" (that's the normal Life stuff happening outside the wild hedonistic Hollywood Nightclub Scene I've known since 1976) if I need to create a job fabricating you an awesome costume or need to add you as another FX Makeup Team Player on a decent budget shooting gig. One time, I pulled a Dame aside to ask how much she'd charge to come over here and do my dirty laundry (she said she needed "to see it" first. Haha!).

What I will do, to you, is transform your very being into a sweating sensual wall/pole humping Basic Woman anytime you engage me on the smoking hot dancefloor (and this includes Dames who have "crossed" way over into the Sea of Sapphic Love!). The Late Owner "Jamal" of the Hollywood Sunset Strip joint called, 'The Body Shop' (that has one of my breasted murals on the roof) once said, "Inside of every Woman, there is another Woman. Get to know both." You know you want to "cut loose" on the floor when the music starts. Let me help you.

These days I surround myself with incredible fun people (and leave 'em when the Club Lights go up. Then resume the action next week)! There's a club, if you would like to go!

Astro Glide Notes

Most of this doesn't rhyme with actual words. You totally rhyme with my heart, Baby!

I'm scared to tell you how bad I need you in my life because I fear you'll turn and run away like the last one.

When you lend me your listening ear, or allow me to kiss all down your smooth velvet neck, it is enough attention satisfaction, for me and my need, that I can share you with other folks hot after you (just like me) right now.

In my head (and on my head), in my wild mind, and my universe of wonder, we are together everyday on high adventure.

Just look at me. Look at you. See the similarities? We can rush the big stage at will and be unafraid of what others might say on the dancefloor below. You dare to wear lace so sheer I can see skin cells, Baby. And I can (and have) don some black leather chaps and nothing else (wait 'til you see that).

I believe fate, destiny, the stars, and the written word has created a moment here for us. Let's take it together.

Guess I wasn't so scared after-all.

Prose 4 Latin G by TJP n 2K4

I Just Wanna Talk About Her Ass Today

Each smooth cheek (right or left) fits perfectly in my firm grasped cupped hand (right or left) while my brazen hungry eyes (right or left) rove deep into her bun crack defined line. I knead her butt in a clockwise rotation as my sonar ears (right or left) listen to her quiet whimpering moans of released joy (quickly now, the security guards are coming). With my moist wet lips drop anchored on the felt fuzz nape at the base of her neck, my velociraptor tongue emerges to spread her skin, the way I wish to spread her butt, and upload this file.

2007 � Prose for Latin G in White by Tuck

Lena. An artist's conception.

This amazing woman has got so much fire and energy until you've got to visualize a big northern iceberg with its main mass hidden beneath the water's surface to really appreciate her depth and beauty. "I'm older now and get too hot and sweaty, burnin' the dancefloors, to hold her body. She doesn't like me wet. So I just give her a peck on her cheek (but ha ha, which one?)."

Lena, if you've just arrived at this page, click the button below to re-read my heartfelt prose written for you.

A poem for you

She has an amazing Lizard Collection in her pad. Anyone who can handle that, can probably handle me. I'm Reptile Wild!

Until I finally got a shot of us, I used to tweak images of folks to look like the lovely and gorgeous dancer, Barbara at Club Clockwork Orange on Friday nights.

And here's the real Mc Coy! I have known Barbara for years. Barbara, if you've just surfed over here, click the button to see a poem I wrote for you.

A poem for you

What was remarkable about this woman, right next to her raw beauty, was when the security guard bouncers told us not to dance on the stage (where we got carried away in each other), she was simply content to dance at it's edge.

Shy Princess Bright

Princess bright
My special starlight
Hold me tight
Thru the night
Like a butterfly
You feel so light
I hold your waist
And squeeze your thighs
If your Dad were here
I just might die
He'd see my love 4 you
Is mountains high
Lock the doors my princess
Don't be shy
The hour is late
The time is right
Consume my desire
Till dawn's early light.

�1998 Tuck John Porter 4 Vargas Girl

...and now, almost two years later...

Mi Cubana Especial

Numbered Days...

When I was a boy, I seen my Mom leave our house
at night in a pair of gold hot pants and boots.

I seen photos of her drinking scotch and water at a nightclub
in an old family photo album. Mom was so young and pretty in that shot.

Don't know the exact time when Mom stopped hangin' out on the club scene
or going to parties. I do know she had to spend more time getting us kids over to K-Mart,
Ballet Classes, helping build cool Science Projects, and picking up parts for my motorcycles....

Every week.

When you tell me you can't stay long on my couch when we finish dancin' together
on a weeknight, I feel you, Baby.

What you don't know, is that I know my days with you are numbered now.
I'm about to lose you to your family forever....if we don't take our relationship to the next level
and let me join your fun little clan.

My bleeding heart ticks and time waits for no one. Please Baby please...

�2003 Prose 4 Susie from Tuck

	With wings attached we loft the skies A kiss, a touch, your vision eyes Nurtures my heart, my soul, and thighs That are now spread to glide, to ride To lift, to fly you to another time Where we as one will frolic in joy With wings attached. For Dionne and our unfinished business.

Phaelan, if you're finally reading this passage, please read a note I've had in my head
and finally put down to paper especially for you.

Love Always, Tuck!

by Tuck John Porter 8-11-98
"Okay...okay. Today is a new day, and I feel bolder 2 find her.
This prose arose from my suspended feelings for Shevonne.
Just been too shy to re-grab her back into my Life.
She herself said to me "Life with an Actress would be so boring."
I quickly rebutted with an oral daydream of us together in
a warm fireplace room with me quietly drawing and her, close by
intently reading her next movie or playwright script.
Yes, she belonged to a successful script writer but...
I feared my nerve to change that game (at that time).
Maybe if she never came to visit me painting a huge mural
on the Hollywood Sunset Strip...and sat there with her dog
(that damn lucky faithful servant) right in her lap (you know
I'm painting but forget the dog, I'm right there in his place
microscoping her crotch jean seam line for days).
Maybe if we'd never met at Canter's Restaurant on Fairfax (where
she gave me some headshots. One of which inspired the above sketch)

..But the Fate & Destiny of our Human DNA Chemical Interraction
and first sight reaction shall haunt my fondling nerves forever.

Should you wish to see a glimpse of what captured me, go & rent
'Leprechaun 2', 'Ghost in the Machine', or 'Tammy & the TRex'."

Tuck John Porter for Shevonne D

Like a rabbit
In the road
With frozen eyes
Locked on
The approaching headlights
Of an unknown car
Is how my love stuck
The first time I saw you
Is how my love sticks to
Each hour I think
of you
Is how my love tears
On every turn
I cannot find you.
It is my love
That gives me energy
To face each day
To seek thee.
To one day find you
Will mend my heart.

PS- The drawing was done
when tears welled high
and rolled down my cheeks.

Love flames cooked the rythmic niteclub air
while sweating slaves of "House" dance their love affair.
My lust filled eyes say only Lola & I are there.
Hmm, here's Lola in a dark lace dress, gliding across the dancefloor.
My heart, my wood are warm red to the core.
Her heavenly body glows & I pretend she wears no underwear.
When her lover showed up, a stocky built lady, I continued to stare.
My plan is to caress her from the base of her nape down the middle of her back.
Then blurt a kind phrase, "Ohh such a lovely lace dress, where'd you get it at?"
With the music still thumpin', I say my thing and do my stuff.
Lola says, "Thank you" and that is enough.
My blind ego heard she loves me, and love is tuff.
Just look at her girlfriend. Get real. Aw shucks.

Lola by Tuck John Porter 8-17-98

Lost my Granny back in August of 2002. I really miss her Physical Presence, but she still resides in my heart as always. Plus, I can hear her voice each morning reminding me to get back to work (smile). Here's a link to some prose on Granny that swirls inside my head everyday.

The Bitch The bitch was a bitch..... yes she was. by Tuck John Porter and co-written by Shari

If U think I'm gonna let U c bigger hyperlinked pics of my Dancin' Babes over here, well...Haha! Nope.