I have probably lost more than 3/4 of the content I’ve shot over the years. Recently I came across photos from a shoot entitled Blonde Dahlia but couldn’t locate the video anywhere. Vague memories of the text description I’d written for the video loomed in my head, tormenting me. No record of those words seemed to exist anyplace on my computer, blogs, or various electronic devices. Frustrated, I wandered out onto a balcony atop my building. A truly monstrous green Plymouth Valiant lurked below. It looked like someone had submerged it in a swamp for 20 years and then driven it back into civilization. Immediately I pulled out a pad and began writing:
Water-logged behemoth floats toward fishermen in Gulf of Mexico. Upper right headlight peers at them like seaborne monster scouting prey. Men drop rods and flee. Recent Hurricane Geneva has deposited unusual debris near shoreline but this metal wreckage carries strong presentiment of evil.
Slime green coche,
Rociada con seafoam,
Dripping with algae.
Border town authorities hear talk, eventually extract 1970 Plymouth Valiant from water. Pristine, white dahlia flutters unnoticed to ground as salvage crew uses crowbar to pry open trunk. Blonde hair, slight movement inside vehicle cause lead investigator to freeze, scarcely able to believe that any life could stir within bestial, drifting sepulcher..
Entrega la sirena blanca,
A la salvacion.
(Tanya Danielle stars in Blonde Dahlia, a tale of survival in which American damsel relives trials, tribulations suffered at hands of fiendish predator: handcuffs, breast press, masked intruder, strap-on dildo put to multiple uses, unusual BDSM implements, cumshot. Co-produced by Paolo.)
Not sure why I was writing in Spanglish but I saved the words inside my computer under the title “Blonde Dahlia” and began re-editing the photos. Yesterday, finally ready to post the gallery at TanyaTV.com, I searched my computer for the story and somehow came up with the original Blonde Dahlia text that I wrote around 2010 or so.
Blonde Dahlia (Original)
The gold 1973 El Camino rolls to a stop. Heavy footsteps advance toward it from across a gravel driveway. A man’s gruff voice orders someone to make sure that the street is clear. The speaker waits a beat and then pulls back a tarp which covers the rear of the vehicle. A startled expression registers on his face. He stares at the woman who lies motionless inside of the El Camino’s bed. Coarse ropes bind each of her wrists and ankles to metal rings. This lady seems different than her predecessors. Somehow she radiates a clean, wholesome energy even though her eyes express nothing but cold resignation. Her aura discomfits him, triggers a latent sensation of remorse that he would like to dismiss as soon as it surfaces. He freezes for a few tortured seconds and then manages to squelch all emotion as he sets about freeing her from her restraints. The hostage does not speak. She seems to realize the futility of words. Some of the others had begged. After untying her the man jerks her upward and then onto the pavement. She blinks in the strong sunlight, taking in her surroundings without any perceptible change in demeanor. A large sign spells out “Geneva Motel” in colorful block letters. It looms above the desolate, three-story building which encircles them. “Don’t get any ideas.” her captor tells her in a flat tone of voice. “There is no one around here who will help you. And don’t even think about running. I’m good at picking off moving targets.” Without waiting for a response he grabs her by the elbow and propels her up an outdoor staircase. As they enter unit 214 of the abandoned motel the woman sees that someone is using it as a cramped living space. Camel cigarette butts overflow from an ashtray, empty bottles spill out of several trash cans, and a paperback book lies open on the bed. Incongruously, a vase containing two fresh, yellow flowers sits atop a small table. Her eyes stay glued to the flowers. “She’s here, Leroy.” the man calls out to an unseen person. “I’m going to lock the door behind her.” When her escort takes off the woman hears the sound of running water. A few seconds later a man, presumably Leroy, emerges from a bathroom wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a ski mask. The hostage barely reacts to his presence. Her senses are stupefied beyond shock. “Look at you.. ” Leroy says with a singsong lilt in his voice. “You will do.. You will do just fine.. ” The woman offers no response. “What’s your name?” Leroy prods her. She remains silent. “Wait.. I don’t want to know your name.. ” he surprises himself by saying. A notion has begun germinating in his mind and he grows progressively enamored of it as he studies her. Suddenly his gaze shifts to the vase of yellow flowers and then back to her eyes. Leroy and the woman regard each other for a few long beats and she sees her own reflection in the visor of his mask. “It just came to me.” he reveals. “You are the Dahlia. I will call you the Blonde Dahlia.. “
Amazing how time passes and nothing stays the same. Even that motel dumped its cool, 1960s-era color block sign and replaced it with this:
Sometimes I feel like life moves on without me. In any case, I have posted a portion of the original Blonde Dahlia gallery at TanyaTV.com. After removing all the Geneva Motel exterior shots I had hoped to insert a pic or two of the Plymouth which inspired the second story. That creepy vehicle still prowls my neighborhood but I haven’t had the nerve to pull out a camera..
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