Mike Raffone

Hotel Management

2011-12-30T13:43:00.001-08:00

Hard-driving career woman Tanya Danielle has recently obtained a degree in Hotel Administration from Cornell University. Like so many recent graduates Ms. Danielle has experienced trouble finding a job. Imagine her delight when she finally lands a position at the Mike Raffone Travelodge Suites. Unfortunately she encounters a troublesome customer on her very first day. He informs her that the place is a dump and requests a refund of his money so he can make a reservation at one of the larger hotel chains in the area. Desperate to change his mind Ms. Danielle offers to perform a naked striptease dance inside his room for no additional charge..

Watch Hotel Management at DeviantDownloads.com now!

***

Hair Washing Fantasy

2010-02-10T16:11:00.001-08:00

36DD Tanya Danielle loves to wash her her long, luxurious, blonde locks. She also relishes the opportunity to excite you with her wet, naked body. Step into a steamy shower with Tanya and feel your temperature rise as she lathers up both her hair and her sexy curves. Afterward she will titillate you even more by blowing her tresses dry and preparing for a romp in the bedroom..

Buy Hair Washing Fantasy at DeviantDownloads.com now!

***

The Bling Bracelet

2009-09-08T10:58:00.000-07:00

Uptight housewife Tanya Danielle has discovered her husband's stash of porn and she is so enraged that she is threatening divorce. In the midst of her ranting and raving ("How can you do this to me?", "Am I not enough for you?", "I gave birth to your children and you do THIS to me?!", etc.) her desperate husband hands her a jewelry box containing a bracelet. Tanya snatches it out of his hand. When she looks at it she immediately tears into him for giving her something so cheesy. Mockingly she puts it on her wrist and prepares to insult the gift even more. All of a sudden a shrill ringing sound is heard. Tanya sits bolt upright as if she has just been hit with an electronic cattle prod. She appears disoriented for a few moments and then in a zombie-like voice she says:

"Yes, Master. Your wish is my command."

Zombie Tanya does not know that her husband is controlling her with the magic bracelet. All she can do is follow orders. She will remember nothing after he deactivates the bracelet, but for now she unquestioningly fulfills all his requests. He instructs her to masturbate and talk dirty like a hot pornstar. She does so for a few minutes until he deactivates the bracelet. Tanya is restored to her real self and she remembers nothing of her masturbation show. She continues to berate her husband. He activates the bracelet again and instructs her to look next to the bed and find a huge, double-headed black dildo. She does so and then performs another masturbation show when he orders her to do it. Zombie Tanya stays engrossed in her performance until she explodes in the orgasm which her Master orders her to have. She then gets dressed and puts the dildo away as he instructs her to do. Afterward she kneels on the bed and listens to her Master. He informs her that he is going to pimp her out to perform masturbation shows for paying audiences.

"Yes, Master. Your wish is my command." she says.

Her Master leaves the room and deactivates the bracelet on his way out the door. Now real Tanya is back. She starts to rip into her husband again but realizes that he has vanished.

"How dare you leave when I'm talking to you, you bastard!" she screams. "I'll make you pay for this!!!!!"

Join TanyaDanielle.com to see the entire gallery of full-size images now. The video The Bling Bracelet will be coming to DeviantDownloads.com later this month!

***

Fair Megababe vs. the Evil Satana is On Sale!!

2009-02-16T15:30:00.001-08:00

Here cameraman Mike Raffone describes classic 2002 superheroine catfight Fair Megababe vs. the Evil Satana:

"It's Francesca Le as Satana and Tanya Danielle as the Superheroine Megababe. Tanya (in her civilian incarnation)takes a phone call for Megababe from the mayor. It seems Satana is back and Megababe is called on to save the town from her. She dresses in the Megababe Superheroine outfit as she talks about what Satana is up to and how she will deal with the situation to save the city from her evil clutches. She puts on a pair of pantyhose before the uniform and cape, plotting how she will subdue and capture Satana. When Megababe gets to Satana's place, they struggle and Satana gets Megababe xposed to chloroform and has her out. Satana leaves and Mega babe wakes up, but Satana come back in just as she is getting up, and the struggle continues. With more chlorororm, Satana has Mega babe knocked out again. Slowly, Megababe goes down for the count, and Satana taunts her as she goes. Megababe is resilient and gets a burst of strength and battles Satana getting her in a headlock, thus getting back in control. They continue battling and Megababe seems to be getting Satana down but only a bit, Satana gets back on control and they continue battling with Megebabe vowing she will be victorious on the side of rightousness. Satana gets her down again with the chlorofrom and gets away. Megababe tries to get up, but the chlorpform was too much, and Satana comes back to taunt her and finish her off with more of the chloroform. Satana is wicked as she taunts Megababe as she lies on the floor barely concious, trying to revive. When Satana gets close in, Megababe gets a burst of strength and whacks her in the head, knocking her out with her superpowers. She need more of her power back so she puts on her super gloves and Super boots renewing her strength to persue Satana again. She gets surprised by Satana, who sneaks up her her from behind and grabs her into a hold and gets her down again and crunches her tits with her own brand of magic. Again, Megababe is out cold again, but Satana has better plans for her than to finish her off...When Megababe wakes back up, they are in Satana's hideout, with Megababes superheroine costume completely off and Megababe naked except for the boots. Satana knows if she gives Megababe 3 orgasms she will become aroused and lose conciousness and all her powers. Satana is so wicked, she ties Megababe up and continues to arouse Megababe as with a toy to her pussy and some titty stimulation. Satana taunts Megababe as she keeps up the stimulation to Megababes vagina. With no control and tied up, Megababe tries to resist the toy on her pussy and megababes fondlilng of her boobs, but it is difficult, to say the least, and has a second orgasm. The battle is on as Megababe is weaker now and Satana gets cocky knowing that Megababe is really no match for her. When Satana smothers Megababes, tits Megababe bites down on her nipple and finds out that if she bites Satan's tits, she will lose her power, and give Megababe more power as well, so Megababe gets back in the game, and becomes an increasing threat to Satana as her strength gets renewed... Buy the clip to find out whether evil or virtue triumphs in this twisted saga!"

Don't miss out - buy Fair Megababe vs. the Evil Satana at CustomVideoTheatre.com for the reduced price of $30.99 (regularly $45.99)!

XO Tanya

***

Cape Cod Bob - another MA native just like Mike Raffone

2008-03-27T05:55:00.000-07:00

Boob-O-Rama! Or should I say "Bob"-O-Rama? Here is a description of the new Tanya's Striptease - the Director's Cut series now playing at DeviantDownloads.com:

"Bob of BobsVideos.com gained national notoriety several decades ago when he lost his high school teaching job in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Parents of many of his students had been shocked to discover that Bob had a side business filming foot fetish videos. They demanded that he resign from his teaching position. Even Johnny Carson cracked a few jokes about Bob during his monologue on The Tonight Show. These days Bob still resides in Massachusetts and has devoted himself full-time to the making of erotic videos. Buy the Tanya's Striptease - the Director's Cut to hear Cape Cod Bob directing Tanya during her striptease!"

- XO Tanya

***

Customer Testimonial

2008-02-10T09:29:00.001-08:00

"Once more Tanya Danielle's Custom Videos has delivered a quality product. The video, sound and editing are excellent; and Tanya and Kianna certainly delivered excellent performances. Jay was very good about keeping my informed on the status of my order and has been eminently helpful at all stages of my order.

I would heartily recommend Tanya Danielle's Custom Videos to anyone interested in personalized fetish videos."

Visit CustomVideoOnDemand.com for information on ordering your own custom video today!

- XO Tanya

***

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-25T08:06:00.001-08:00

Grinch Jewell Marceau tried to steal Christmas but I did not let her.

Merry Christmas!

- XXOO Tanya

***

Free Christmas gift for all members!

2007-12-24T12:35:00.000-08:00

I am offering a free download from DeviantDownloads.com - Tanya the Spy - to all members of TanyaDanielle.com. Join by December 26 to get your free download!

Happy Holidays!

- XO Tanya

***

"You have an incoming call."

2007-09-05T20:38:00.000-07:00

The other day I stepped into an elevator and someone's phone started ringing. A bell-like tone emanated from it and then a computerized voice said:

"You have an incoming call."

The ringtone and the accompanying canned voice sounded three times before the owner of the phone dug the device out of his pocket. It reminded me of a conversation I had heard on a porn set years ago. Someone there had the exact same ringtone/computerized voice alert programmed into his phone. He received a lot of calls. Finally one of the crewmembers had asked him:

"Isn't the fact that your phone is ringing enough to inform you that someone is calling you? Do you need to have the pre-recorded voice message too?"

Everyone in the room had laughed. A few days later I mentioned the episode to cameraman Mike Raffone. He did not think it was very funny.

"A lot of people have that ring option on their phones. Most people don't use it." he said. "It's a good one because it's distinctive. It's probably an option on your phone. It's probably an option on my phone. It could be an option on anybody's phone. Some people's ringers play the 'Iowa Fight Song'. Some people use 'Take Me out to the Ballgame'. Why do you care if someone else uses a canned voice? What do you use on your phone? You probably just use a normal ringtone. I've never even heard your phone ring. Does anyone ever call you? Your phone never rings. Does your phone ever ring?"

"I.. " I began.

"Where's your phone?" Mike demanded. "Do you even have a phone? Is that why you always send e-mails? Because you don't have a phone?"

"No. I.. " I started again.

"You don't have a phone. I can't believe that you don't have a phone!" Mike cackled. "You really are a hermit!"

"I.. " I tried again.

"Danielle doesn't have a phone." he said with delight. "I knew you didn't have a printer, but I can't believe you don't have a phone!"

I halted his laughter by reaching into my purse and retrieving my cellphone. Dale Earnhardt was still alive when I had bought it, but it worked well enough.

"Oh, so you do have a phone." Mike said as he snatched it from me. "I bet I can program it to use the ringtone that has the computerized voice."

He started fiddling with it. I watched him for a few seconds.

"Hey, " I said. "Jewell is supposed to be calling me soon. Can we get started shooting the video? She and I have plans to go out to lunch when you and I are finished."

Mike's hands froze. I knew I had just said something that had offended him. Mike is like a great artist in that he is very temperamental. He looked up at me.

"Oh, you and JoJo have plans, do you? She's another great one. Always showing up late and then demanding to be done early. You girls make my life Hell. Do you understand how hard it is on me? You girls are nightmares." he said with some real bitterness and some feigned indignation.

He wasn't totally serious, but I knew that he was not finished. JoJo (which is what he called Jewell Marceau) and I often became targets of his ire. According to him we showed up late, we weren't grateful enough for the work, we didn't take direction well, and we behaved like primadonnas. The first point had some validity, but none of the others did. I knew he was about to embark on a lengthy diatribe about our various faults. He would wind himself up if I let him. I held up my hand in a placating gesture.

"Listen, " I said. "I'm sorry I was late. I should not have been late. Jewell should never be late either. We're lame. But I'm hungry and Jewell and I are supposed to get lunch. Can we start shooting? You can treat me to one of your hate-filled soliloquys the next time we shoot."

Mike looked at me with disgust.

"You act like I have nothing better to do than sit here and chat with you. I have plenty of work I could be doing right now." he said.

With that he stomped into the bedroom. I followed him. He tied me up with purple rope and we began shooting the bondage video that we needed to do. At one point he put his camera on the tripod and walked out of the room. He did that fairly often when he got too sick of me. I kept struggling against my restraints and playing to the camera, careful not to wiggle out of frame. Mike strode back in. He was holding my phone and he placed it on the nighttable next to the bed. I wondered about it but I kept struggling. Mike left the room again. Minutes ticked by. The camera kept filming. I continued to strain against the ropes. The video should have been over already. Mike was nowhere in sight and I was gagged. All I could do was moan and make incoherent sounds of anger. I was getting really mad. My bad temper started to morph into full-blown fury. All of a sudden I heard a ringing noise. It was immediately followed by a computerized voice saying:

"You have an incoming call."

My phone was ringing and Jewell was calling me! In a fit of pique Mike had reprogrammed my phone and evidently he was going to make me struggle endlessly and suffer. By now I was writhing around in agony on Mike's bed. The ropes were chafing and I was sweating bullets. Vitriolic hatred invaded my soul. It felt as if the burning rage was enough to make my temples explode. The phone kept ringing and then the voice would chime in and say:

"You have an incoming call."

I raged against the ropes in frustration. My whole being wanted to scream, but the infernal gag was preventing me from making any sounds other than feeble moans and bleats. Another voice broke into the morass of my torment:

"Uh, miss.. isn't this your floor? Weren't you the one who pushed the button for this floor?"

Suddenly I remembered that I was standing in an elevator full of people in a hotel in Miami. That blasted ringtone had forced yet another long-dormant Mike Raffone memory to surface. I shuffled forward and exited the elevator as the other passengers regarded me with odd expressions on their faces.

Mke Raffone, the evil Geppetto, was still pulling my puppet strings from across the continent.

Join my site to see the "Tied in Black Hose" gallery in its entirety. And about 600 other photosets and videos that Mike has shot of me over the years.

- XXOO Tanya

***

Another weekend adventure..

2007-08-06T18:40:00.001-07:00

The conversation started on a congenial enough note. Ann Parker and I had arrived for a shoot at cameraman Mike Raffone's studio and we were discussing what we had done over the weekend.

"You know," I told her. "I think someone put something in my drink on Saturday afternoon. I was at The Siren in Hermosa Beach and I started feeling kind of woozy. The room began spinning and then some mild nausea kept hitting me in waves.. "

Ann raised an eyebrow at me.

"It wasn't normal. In fact, it was really strange." I continued. "They pour really generous drinks there, but I'd only had three of them. I've been drinking for a lot of years and I know what my limits are. I never get sloppy drunk or start feeling sick like that."

Ann listened and regarded me with some type of emotion in her eyes. Was it concern? Was it disapproval? Was it sympathy? I couldn't read her face and I decided to infuse the moment with some levity.

"Believe me, I'm an old drunk - I know exactly how much I can consume without ever going too far overboard." I said with a chuckle.

Ann still did not respond. It was time to change the subject.

"Anyways," I said in finishing. "nothing bad happened. My friend drove me home and I passed out. The next morning I was positive that someone had put something in my drink. I felt like crap for the rest of the weekend, but things coulda been worse - at least I made it back to my apartment safely."

Ann continued looking at me and seemed to be digesting my words. I shrugged my shoulders and made a palms-up gesture with my hands to convey a casual, dismissive "so there you have it/make of it what you will" attitude. Ann eyed me a little longer and then she finally spoke.

"Yeah, I'm sure someone did put something in your drink." she agreed in a nasty, condescending tone of voice. "It's called liquor, you dumbass!! Why do you always have to try and make excuses for not knowing when to stop yourself?"

I stared at her. An insidious silence invaded the room. The tension mounted. I grimaced. Ann squared her shoulders. Mike Raffone grabbed his camera and it was ON!!!!

You can see this disturbing fracas in the "Tanya vs. Ann Parker" update at my website now!

- XXOO Tanya

***

10 Minutes FREE at Catfight VOD!

2007-07-15T09:57:00.001-07:00

- XXOO Tanya

***

Fair Megababe vs. the evil Satana!

2007-05-23T18:34:00.000-07:00

Mike shot Francesca Le and me in the 45-minute superheroine extravaganza pictured above. Here he describes the film from the director's standpoint:

"It's Francesca Le as Satana and Tanya as the Superheroine Megababe. Tanya (in her civilian incarnation)takes a phone call for Megababe from the mayor. It seems Satana is back and Megababe is called on to save the town from her. She dresses in the Megababe Superheroine outfit as she talks about what Satana is up to and how she will deal with the situation to save the city from her evil clutches. She puts on a pair of pantyhose before the uniform and cape, plotting how she will subdue and capture Satana. When Megababe gets to Satana's place, they struggle and Satana gets Megababe xposed to and has her out. Satana leaves and Mega babe wakes up, but Satana come back in just as she is getting up, and the struggle continues. With more chlorororm, Satana has Mega babe knocked out again. Slowly, Megababe goes down for the count, and Satana taunts her as she goes. Megababe is resilient and gets a burst of strength and battles Satana getting her in a headlock, thus getting back in control. They continue battling and Megababe seems to be getting Satana down but only a bit, Satana gets back on control and they continue battling with Megebabe vowing she will be victorious on the side of rightousness. Satana gets her down again with the chlorofrom and gets away. Megababe tries to get up, but the chlorpform was too much, and Satana comes back to taunt her and finish her off with more of the . Satana is wicked as she taunts Megababe as she lies on the floor barely concious, trying to revive. When Satana gets close in, Megababe gets a burst of strength and whacks her in the head, knocking her out with her superpowers. She need more of her power back so she puts on her super gloves and Super boots renewing her strength to persue Satana again. She gets surprised by Satana, who sneaks up her her from behind and grabs her into a hold and gets her down again and crunches her tits with her own brand of magic. Again, Megababe is out cold again, but Satana has better plans for her than to finish her off...When Megababe wakes back up, they are in Satana's hideout, with Megababes superheroine costume completely off and Megababe naked except for the boots. Satana knows if she gives Megababe 3 orgasms she will become aroused and lose conciousness and all her powers. Satana is so wicked, she ties Megababe up and continues to arouse Megababe as with a toy to her pussy and some titty stimulation. Satana taunts Megababe as she keeps up the stimulation to Megababes vagina. With no control and tied up, Megababe tries to resist the toy on her pussy and megababes fondlilng of her boobs, but it is difficult, to say the least, and has a second orgasm. The battle is on as Megababe is weaker now and Satana gets cocky knowing that Megababe is really no match for her. When Satana smothers Megababes, tits Megababe bites down on her nipple and finds out that if she bites Satan's tits, she will lose her power, and give Megababe more power as well, so Megababe gets back in the game, and becomes an increasing threat to Satana as her strength gets renewed... buy the clip to find out whether evil or virtue triumphs in this twisted saga!"

Click here to download Fair Megababe vs. the evil Satana! at my Custom Video Theatre now!

- XXOO Tanya

***

It all seems like a blur..

2007-05-14T19:43:00.000-07:00

It all seems like a dimly-recalled blur most of the time, but if I try hard I can shake the episode loose from my repressed memories and reflect upon it. Devon Michaels and I had been shooting at Mike Raffone's studio when we decided to take a break. We were both still sporting our Everton jerseys since we had been wearing them in the last video we were filming. Devon flung herself onto the couch half-naked and picked up the remote for the TV. I sat down next to her as an infomercial for the DVD of an old Ultimate Fighting Championship event began airing. We watched as a large, bearded white dude came striding out towards the fighting cage. The crowd was cheering wildly, just going nuts for him. The fighter trudged forward through the throngs of spectators as his giant stomach swayed and jiggled to the left and to the right.

"Remember him?" I asked Devon.

"Oh, yeah." she said.

The overweight man with the ZZ Top facial hair was called "Freight Train" and he had been one of the earliest champions in the sport of ultimate fighting. I saw Devon shaking her head as she gazed at him. Devon has had an illustrious career as a fitness model and she works out religiously. She does not understand the slack, undisciplined nature of lesser mortals.

"You know what I think his appeal was?" I asked her as I nodded toward the TV screen.

She shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes.

"People cheered for him because he was just some big old drunk fuck who crumpled up a beercan before each fight, got off his couch, strutted into the venue and then railed his opponent in front of thousands of people. Every man in America getting sauced in his Barcalounger dreamed of being Freight Train. He had that type of built-in appeal." I said. "He represented Joe Q.Citizen - you know, just the normal guy who enjoys his burgers and beer and will never relinquish the slothful ways that make life so fun. Or trouble himself to look into the mirror too hard or too long."

I glanced over at Devon to see if she understood my logic and appreciated the marketing bonanza that Freight Train had provided for his sport. Devon kept staring straight ahead at the TV.

"Freight Train gave every wannabe fighter and weekend warrior the hope that they too could kick some ass even if they drank every day, subsisted on fast food, and never trained at all." I continued with more urgency, wanting her to see my point.

Devon finally turned and favored me with a cold expression.

"You mean kind of like you when you step into the WTBA ring to defend your title?" she asked matter-of-factly. "The Chairman of the WTBA needs to start inviting drunk housewives and old-age pensioners from across the nation to attend your championship bouts. Maybe he can even get you an endorsement from Thunderbird or Boone's Farm. You can wear their logos on the back of your shorts across your fat ass."

Silence reigned in Mike Raffone's studio. That does not happen often. I was going to punish Devon or die trying. She knew it. I knew it. We stood to face each other in front of the teal couch on the industrial carpet. Devon was expecting me to box, but I was ready to kick some ass. Literally. I landed an unexpected kick to her right thigh and Devon collapsed to her knees. Then I kicked her again on her left 36DD and let her writhe on the carpet for a few moments, sucking in the crust of old seminal fluids and particles of dust. The fight got even uglier. Devon and I used to be friends. It's hard to remember that sometimes. This fight was the nastiest of the nasty..

Join www.TanyaDanielle.com to find out who triumphed at the end of this hideous spectacle!

Maybe someday I'll face her again inside the ring of the WTBA.

-XXOO Tanya

***

Boston Nightmare

2007-05-14T17:17:00.000-07:00

I arrived at the Bali Hai bar yesterday to meet my friend Tim. One week earlier we had bet each other $50 on the outcome of the De La Hoya/Mayweather fight. I had felt so certain that De La Hoya would triumph on that Cinco de Mayo holiday. My hopes had not dimmed when Mayweather had entered the ring sporting a giant sombrero and trunks bearing the colors of the Mexican flag. Now I needed to pay for my misguided thinking and I flung three twenties on the bar in front of Tim as soon as I sat down. He handed me $10 in change.

"Why didn't you want to get together in El Segundo?" he asked.

I had mentioned that I was driving through El Segundo when we were speaking on the phone and deciding where to meet.

"El Segundo is a miserable little town." I responded. "There's not a single bar there that is relaxing, fun, or compelling in any regard whatsoever."

Tim swallowed some of his beer and did not bother to disagree. El Segundo is kind of like the town of Springfield on The Simpsons. Isn't there a nuclear reactor in Springfield or something? El Segundo has both a Chevron refinery and a sewage treatment plant within its confines and Los Angeles International Airport borders one side of it. You cannot escape the pollution or the sickening, strange smells in El Segundo. I think those factors have made half the inhabitants of the town crazy and left the other half very mean-spirited. Some people do like it there. They are the ones who populate the local bar scene in that blighted community.

"Yeah, I never really go to any of those places." Tim commented mildly. "Some of the people who work there seem to take pride in being rude."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It's just part of their persona. Or their shtick. Or something." he said. "Personally, I can live without it."

"I'm right there with you." I concurred as I hoisted my gigantic Stoli on the rocks to my lips.

The Bali Hai offers great service and exceptionally strong drinks to regular customers. It's only 10 minutes from El Segundo, but it may as well be on a different planet - a nice, friendly one.

"That Irish pub I go to in Culver City has a few bartenders who behave in that same grating manner." Tim continued. "I just avoid the place when they are working. They even give me free drinks.. and I still don't go there if I know they are going to be tending bar."

I smiled.

"They act like miserable people from the East Coast and they just never give it a rest." he said.

"You mean like folks from New York or New Jersey?" I chuckled.

Tim favored me with a scornful glance.

"No." he said in a corrective tone. "I mean like people from Boston or Philadelphia."

I looked back at him and realized he was being serious. My eyes wandered to the TV screen where Phil Mickelson was playing golf. I sipped my vodka and began doing a mental inventory of the people I've known from Boston and Philadelphia. One dancer/porn actress named Liz jumped to the forefront of my brain. Generally Liz used to behave in a sarcastic, rude, hostile manner, but not always. I don't even know if she's still in the business. Others in the industry who knew her had thought she was "tough" and savvy. She had lost custody of her children and I thought she was weak and delusional, unable to prioritize the various issues in her life. For some reason Liz and I often got booked on shoots together. She was uncommonly smart and funny, but she seemed to squander her energy fighting unimportant battles and behaving in an abrasive manner towards the wrong people. At one shoot she started a verbal fight with a young model who had accidentally stepped on Liz's lingerie bag. Liz tore mercilessly into the pretty girl and tried to humiliate her. Her cruel, misplaced rage came from somewhere deep. Yet Liz also showed up to another shoot with a half-healed black eye given to her by her boyfriend. Liz had not bothered to break up with him after the incident. I had found myself vaguely wondering if she had even fought back while he was beating her up.

One afternoon at a bondage shoot I overheard Liz describing various experiences she had had while dancing in Boston. She had been telling another model how the strippers there would go up on stage and yell to the customers:

"I'm fucking taking my clothes off up here! You better fucking tip me, you cheap assholes!"

I could easily picture pallid, angry Liz up there doing exactly that. She seemed to believe that inflicting her hateful personality on strangers was more important than making money or doing the job at hand. Presumably Liz viewed her manifestations of wounded pride as exhibitions of her own strength. Overall she was just too churlish for me to have much sympathy for her.

Memories of Liz ran through my mind as I sat in the Bali Hai. Tim watched golf. My vodka-tainted thoughts then drifted to a shoot I had done in 2005. I had shown up to the location and the photographer was just a dick. Just an unmitigated prick. Why are male appendages often used as descriptions for obnoxious men? I'm not sure. I like dick. But I did not like this guy and he was a dick. He tied me up in various contorted, uncomfortable poses while he snapped away with his camera and made repeated references to how all women in California were stupid and how all of them lacked backbones, education, and couth. Lacked couth? Wow, was he ever one to talk. As it happens I am not good at placing accents, even obvious ones.

"Where are you from?" I had finally asked him.

"Boston. I'm from Bos-ton." he informed me with boastful pride.

The shoot progressed and I had already worked the allotted number of hours. He told me we were finished. I watched him begin packing up his camera, the lights, etc.

"Um.. you need to untie me.." I said.

He ignored me. Later he responded with laughter to my growing discomfort and mounting fear. I knew he was going to wait until my stress level turned into terror. He began crafting something out of the sweaty ropes he had used for bondage. It was a gag. I missed my last chance to scream. I opened my mouth to try and force the sound out and he jammed that huge mass of rope nearly down my throat. My rational mind started to fail me and the last thing I remember thinking was:

What is this maniac going to do to me?!

See the full "Chair Tied" gallery at www.TanyaDanielle.com now!

- XXOO Tanya

***

TaylorSt. Claire vs. Tanya Danielle

2007-04-26T10:58:00.000-07:00

The above photo is from furious battle between Taylor St. Claire and Tanya Danielle. Join www.TanyaDanielle.com now to see the full catfight as shot by Mike Raffone!

-XXOO Tanya

***

Tanya Danielle as seen by Mike Raffone

2007-04-12T08:43:00.000-07:00

See the full gallery at www.TanyaDanielle.com now!

***

Another Mike Raffone Production..

2007-03-14T13:09:00.000-07:00

A few months ago a gentleman asked me to hold a few auditions in which I could screen women to decide who would play the roles of superheroines and villainnesses in a video he wanted me to shoot. Initially I waffled around and did not address the real issue. I merely reminded him of my profound inability to orchestrate anything.

"You can't ask a few girls to come to cameraman Mike Raffone's apartment and read a few lines?" he inquired via e-mail.

"I would have to pay them." I wrote back to him.

"I've never heard of actresses being paid for an audition." he typed back to me.

"Women in the adult industry get hired for movie roles that generally pay between $500 and $1000 per scene." I responded to him. "They may spend most of the day shooting their scene in that movie and then they are on to the next job. The next job may be that same day, it might be the next day, or it might not be for two more weeks. The work comes in waves and all the adult actresses learn to adjust to that reality one way or another. They know they need to stay as busy as possible to make a comfortable living. No one I know will go on an audition. I won't go on an audition. Between jobs I go to the strip club. Some adult actresses do webcam shows. Some do signings at adult video stores. Some do other things. The bottom line is that we all work a lot if we want to make a comfortable living. No one will commute in Los Angeles and waste half a day auditioning for a job that pays between $500 and $1000, particularly since they know that they might not get hired for it anyways. They might go audition for a job that would yield $10,000, but probably no one would believe you if you said you had a movie role in an adult production for which you were paying $10,000."

Days went by. I knew this gentleman would either readjust his thinking or else I'd never hear from him again. In the end he did write me back.

"How am I supposed to react to this?" he queried. "I am prepared to shell out good money for a custom video. Am I supposed to just venture into it blindly? I guess I can watch other videos in which some of these ladies have appeared, but that may not indicate to me whether or not I would find them compelling in roles as superheroines or villainnesses. I really want a video that I can treasure if I go the trouble and expense of commissioning a production for myself. I guess I'm willing to pay a few models to shoot some footage for me so I can evaluate their aptitude. Are you willing to help me with that?"

"Absolutely." I replied.

Two days later I was shooting the first of the "auditions" at Mike Raffone's studio. Kayla Quinn breezed into the room with an abnormally large amount of luggage. It all contained wardrobe. I loitered nearby in my Power Girl outfit. Kayla asked if I would like her to play the role of a superheroine or a villain. I shrugged noncommittally.

"Well, sweetie, I don't want to potentially usurp your role as superheroine in the upcoming video. It just would not be good for you if we were both superheroines in this audition so I'll be a villain." Kayla decided out loud.

She had thrown "sweetie" into her sentence and she just had that bitchy, presumptuous attitude. I folded my glove-clad arms and let her sift through what proved to be an astonishing array of fantasy apparel. It looked like Kayla had played the villain on many occasions. And played the superheroine just as often. Kayla tried to make a few more idle attempts at conversation as she dressed. Mike Raffone indulged her. I did not.

Kayla "The Purple Avenger" and I, "Power Girl", finally squared off in front of the camera. Hostility blazed in The Purple Avenger's eyes and ferocity burned in Power Girl's soul..

How could two goofy broads get so worked up over a superheroine audition? Did Power Girl reclaim her dignity? Did The Purple Avenger assert her intended dominance? Please, take a moment away from your life's issues and join www.TanyaDanielle.com to marvel at the intensity of two women in supersuits vying for leading roles in a Mike Raffone production..

- XXOO Tanya

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A Cleaner Lifestyle

2007-03-07T12:22:00.001-08:00

Women in the adult industry periodically get burnt out on doing some of the work. Most productions with which one becomes involved rarely last for more than a single day. To make a living one finds herself commuting daily to various locations, interacting with a myriad of unfamiliar character on each set, and doing a huge volume of laundry each week. Directors usually do not supply the wardrobe so the actresses bring their own. Last year I got fed up with the driving, the handwashing of lingerie and the personalities of many of those people with whom I was working. I called up my friend Kayla Quinn so she could talk me out of my funk. She didn't.

"You know," Kayla had sighed. "I just need a break from all this too."

I didn't say anything. Nothing but silence emanated from Kayla's end of the line for almost a minute. I felt anxiety begin to well up inside my gut. Kayla normally cheered me up whenever I lost my motivation. On this night her obviously dejected demeanor really bothered me since I felt demoralized already.

"Kayla." I said

She did not answer.

"Kayla?" I asked the dead air.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here." she responded at last.

"What are we going to do?" I queried in what I hoped was a calm, practical tone of voice. "I mean.. it's not like we can just stop working."

"Yep, I know." she said flatly.

"Well, fuck." I sighed. "Do you feel like dancing?"

"No, I don't feel like dancing." Kayla shot back at me with some vehemence. "I would just like to go a few months without taking my clothes off in a room full of strangers."

In all honesty I felt the same way. Kayla and I agreed to meet for a few drinks and figure out a game plan. An hour later we hooked up at Hank's Bar to kick around ideas. Kayla had brought an LA Weekly newspaper with her. After two drinks she pulled it out and showed me a help wanted ad for a company that supplied "sexy maids" to clean in private homes around Los Angeles.

"No nudity. No dating clientele. $25 an hour." the ad proclaimed.

Kayla and I decided to go for it. Why not? If a customer got out of line we would shove a mop up his asshole. The next day we applied for the jobs and the crusty old dude who owned the company, Lionel, hired us on the spot. He handed us our "uniforms" and told us he'd have a gig for us on the following afternoon. Kayla and I went home and tried on the uniforms. We agreed that we would hang on to them after our stint as housecleaners had ended. The outfits actually fit us really well and looked pretty cute - just perfect for a strip club stage. Lionel called as we were arguing over who got which outfit.

"Gotcha girls a small gig tomorrow near Encino." he informed us over the speakerphone. "This guy's a regular. Treat him right. He's got a small place but he likes to tip the girls good. He won't expect nothing dirty from ya so don't worry. A few of the other girls mentioned that he has some good reefer too."

"Reefer"? Kayla and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes in unison. Neither of us had heard anyone use that term in a long time. Lionel rattled off an address to us that sounded vaguely familiar. I'd been driving to so many porn shoot locations recently that every address sounded familiar. The next day Kayla and I debated about whether we should wear our sexy maid outfits to the job or just change into them when we got there. We decided to show up wearing long coats over the uniforms. After dressing with care Kayla looked at the address and said she knew roughly where it was. We headed out the door for our first day on the new job.

It took us only 20 minutes to locate the correct street. I slowed the car down so we could figure out which building corresponded with the address Lionel had given us. We spotted it and then we both froze. Kayla spoke first:

"This is cameraman Mike Raffone's building, isn't it?" she said slowly.

"Um, yeah." I said.

"What if he sees us?" she demanded. "He'll tell everyone in the industry."

"Fuck." I responded. "I don't think he'll see us. If he does we will just tell him we're going to a shoot or doing a Strip-O-Gram or something. This is our first day on the job for Lionel. We can't screw this up because he will fire us."

Kayla sighed but said nothing as I parked the car.

We alighted from the vehicle and pulled our overcoats around ourselves as we trudged toward the building. Kayla was ducking her head beneath her frilly little French maid's cap.

"Oh, don't worry. You blend right in with the neighborhood." I told her sarcastically.

At the security gate I punched in the code we had been given and a loud buzzing noise indicated that the occupant was ringing us in from his end. We proceeded forward.

"What's the apartment number?" Kayla asked me.

I fumbled with the slip of paper in my hand and tried to decipher my writing. A loud voice interrupted my scrutiny.

"Hey, are you girls the maids? You girls are the maids, right?" a man's voice with a thick East Coast accent called out to us.

I resisted the urge to run back down the cement walkway and I saw Kayla put her hand over her face.

"Hey, you the maids! I'm Mike. Lionel sent you, right?" the man continued exuberantly.

Of course the man was none other than cameraman Mike Raffone himself. He approached us. I looked`away but made no attempt to cover my face. Through the corner of my right eye I saw Mike Raffone stop dead in his tracks. His expression registered disbelief. A brief silence encompassed us all. The chirping of a bird brought me back to reality. I turned to face Mike, to face the inevitable. His eyes had grown as big as silver dollars behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Tanya Danielle and Kayla Quinn!" he practically shouted. "You the maids? You girls are the maids?!"

Neither Kayla nor I spoke a word. I knew that Mike could die happy now. Unfortunately he did not look like he was going to die. He looked like he ruled the universe.

"This could be a 'True Hollywood Story' on the E Channel!" Mike guffawed. "They'd be callin' it 'A Cleaner Lifestyle: How Two Girls Dreamed of Porn Stardom and Ended Up as Janitors'. The only problem is that you girls were never famous to begin with. Still, it's a tremendous story. Tremendous."

Mike practically waltzed up the stairs that lead to his apartment and waved us inside like we were long-lost relatives. We followed him meekly. Kayla's frilly cap had nearly swallowed up her entire head. I began reminding myself that there is no shame in honest labor and my anger stoked my determination to clean Mike's apartment with a vengeance. I would make Lionel proud.

"I better be able to shine a forensic black light all over this place and not see a single speck of semen when you girls are done!" Mike called out with a joyous cackle.

That comment pushed Kayla over the edge. She tried to hold me accountable for this miserable turn of events. Of course Mike had a camera handy..

Join www.TanyaDanielle.com now to see who triumphed in this battle of hostile, disillusioned housecleaners!

- XXOO Tanya

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Apartment Brawl

2007-01-30T12:24:00.000-08:00

It had been awhile since Carolyn Monroe and I had hung out together. Still, she'd been over to my place at least a thousand times before and it seemed unnecessary for her to ask why I have silver tinsel decorating my table lamp. Not only did it seem unnecessary, it actually appeared that the question might have been intended as a pointed insult. Here I'd been expecting Carolyn to relax and swill a few beers with me, and instead I found myself fielding queries about my furniture. I'm not a decorator. I didn't even put that tinsel there for effect. Somehow it ended up on the lamp after a drunken night of debauchery when I was dancing around with the shade on my head. Carolyn knew that already. Was she trying to make me feel self-conscious about my excessive drinking? Why would she attempt the impossible? Who cared anyways? I was already one sixpack into my evening and a little liquid courage always helps when you have the inclination to bash someone's head into your industrial carpet. Know what I mean?

Visit my Fantasy Image Store to buy the whole gallery and see which busty blonde triumphed in this devastating apartment brawl!

- XXOO Tanya

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The Monty Bar

2007-01-08T15:07:00.000-08:00

There's a bar called Monty's on West Seventh Street in downtown L.A. It has no windows and you can't see the interior when you are standing on the sidewalk even though the door is always open. The signage outside advertises cocktails, sports TV, and pool. Monty's is in kind of a rough area and it was hard to guess exactly who might be in the place. It could be workers from the numerous construction sites in the vicinity or it could be Mexican gangbangers. Maybe it's an array of people strung out on heroin they purchased across the street or it's a bunch of cops who get together after work. It could also be Crips, Bloods, or grandmothers knitting. The only way to find out is by walking in there.

The place was calling me. Why does that always happen? Little dingy bars with wood-panelling have a way of doing that. There was no way I could know that it had a wood-panelled interior, but yet I was certain that it did. Finally I proved myself right by going in there last Friday afternoon. About eight people were inside the wood-panelled room which happened to be bigger than I would have expected. There was a jukebox against one wall and five pool tables lined up on the concrete floor. A few of the patrons were playing pool and the rest were seated at the bar. Most of the conversation in the room was in Spanish. The bartender sized me up from a distance and maneuvered towards me in a somewhat laborious manner. At first I thought she was pregnant, but then it appeared that her gait was the result of some type of injury. I asked for a Stoli on the rocks and she asked me for my ID.

My Stoli cost $4.50. I sipped it and stared at the TV while the other customers tried to figure out what I was doing there. Something about their manner indicated that they were not accustomed to seeing many strangers in the place. Or maybe they just weren't accustomed to seeing many unescorted white women in the place. A large Hispanic woman in tight clothes came near me to retrieve her bottle of beer. She looked me squarely in the face and gave me a disdainful smirk before returning to her pool game. Her apparent assessment of me reminded me of one made by a similar large Hispanic woman a number of years ago. I had been leaving a bachelor party at which I'd been dancing when a woman had arrived at the residence. She kept looking me up and down and saying, "Oh, there's the little ho you had for the party" in a loud, derisive manner. I had been wearing a skintight, hot pink dress with 5" spiked heels. Today at Monty's I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and workout pants..

How did this episode end up with me squaring off in a boxing ring with Francesca to keep my dignity?? Join www.TanyaDanielle.com now to read the story and see the full gallery!

- XXOO Tanya

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Strippers Have Their Day in Court

2007-01-07T23:33:00.001-08:00

Holly Body and I had a court date on the same day. Turns out we both had some issues with reckless driving. We'd never met before, but we got to chatting in the courtroom when the judge took a brief recess. Holly's conservative apparel could not conceal her firm, full 38DDDs. I wondered aloud why she had not been able to sweet-talk her way out of the 115 MPH ticket she'd received on Interstate 10. Holly rolled her eyes and said she could not even stomach the idea of flirting with some nimrod cop. Wow! It was like we were sisters separated at birth! I invited Holly back to my apartment after we had both paid $1000 fines and been sentenced to hundreds of hours of Caltrans highway work. Upon arrival at my place I was very much looking forward to openning up a bottle of cheap wine and kicking back. The moment was shattered when my new friend Holly started becoming rude and sarcastic. Among other things she even asked me if I always dressed like a dowdy schoolteacher! There was no way that I was going to take that kind of shit in my own home so I ripped off my suit jacket, squared my shoulders and prepared to do battle with my 36DDs. Holly and I agreed to a no-holds-barred sexual test of wills in which the first woman to make the other one cum would be the WINNER..

Join my archive site www.JackOffLand.com now to find out which of us emerged victorious!

- XXOO Tanya

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Black Dahlia

2007-01-07T19:49:00.001-08:00

Several months ago I checked into a hotel in Los Angeles to minimize my commute into the San Fernando Valley for work. I had numerous shoots scheduled over a 4-day period and did not want to deal with hours of driving on each of those days. I selected the historic Mayfair Hotel which sits in a gritty section near downtown. Downtown L.A. is equidistant from the San Fernando Valley and the city in which I live. My friend Raul came to meet me for dinner on the first night I was there. He did not bother to hide his disgust for the surroundings. The squalor really bugged him. I was enjoying our walk amidst the debauchery and kept stopping to ogle at many of the decrepit, historic properties that are still standing in the vicinity. After a while Raul briefly attempted to exhibit some enthusiasm while we strolled around town. He seemed to be reluctant to leave me on my own and I had already told him I had no intention of departing. At some point he nodded his head at a boarded-up old brick building looming in front of us on 7th Street and commented that it looked like an interesting place. I glanced over at it. Wow. There really was something about the structure that was compelling. An old sign affixed to its facade read "Holland Hotel." Clearly the place had not been open for business in many years. We kept on walking and saw lots of thought-provoking stuff. A few days later I remembered to do a search for "Holland Hotel" on the Yahoo search engine. It did not surprise me that the crumbling place may have some dubious significance in Los Angeles history. As it turns out it has a speculative connection to aspiring starlet Elizabeth Short.

You may have heard of Elizabeth Short AKA the "Black Dahlia." Her brutal murder rocked Los Angeles in 1947 and has captured the prurient interest of countless individuals over these subsequent decades. Lots of people love a good mystery. Elizabeth's killing remains officially unsolved although there are many who believe a degenerate individual named Arnold Smith was responsible for her death. These folks buy into the theory that Arnold lured or forced Elizabeth into his bathtub, tortured her for several days until she died, severed her body at its midsection and then drained all her blood into the aforementioned tub. A housewife walking with her infant in a stroller encountered the remains of Elizabeth discarded behind some bushes in the housewife's pleasant, middle-class neighborhood. The bisected corpse was bloodless and washed clean.

One of the policemen investigating the murder felt very strongly that Arnold Smith was the perpetrator of this horrendous crime. Unfortunately, or perhaps not, Arnold died the night before this cop was scheduled to interview him. Supposedly Arnold had checked into the Holland Hotel on the evening prior to this imminent meeting and then burned to death, possibly because he fell asleep with a lit cigarette in his bed. Many answers may have burned along with him. Perhaps all the conjecture about both Arnold and Elizabeth's grim bond is indeed accurate. There is just something about the rotting structure of the Holland Hotel, Arnold's second-to-last resting place, that makes you ready to believe that spirits inside its abandoned walls are keepers of those secrets.

Francesca doesn't want to believe anything. She is far more pragmatic than I and always tries to forcibly shut my mouth when I speak of random, mystery-laden subjects. I do happen to have a habit of chatting away about irrelevant stuff when I'm shooting. During our last shoot I had commented that Francesca looked a bit like the photos taken of pretty,raven-haired Elizabeth Short before her sickening death. She really does. The pale, pearl-colored pantyhose Francesca was wearing underneath her red skirt contributed to the resemblance, at least in my mind. Francesca didn't want to hear anything about my morbid ruminations and she reacted violently when I would not let the subject rest..

Join www.TanyaDanielle.com to see explicit photos of our nasty battle now!

- XXOO Tanya

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Snobby Stacy

2007-01-05T16:23:00.000-08:00

I must have been feeling melancholy on that rainy afternoon. People in traffic around me were looking for opportunities to switch lanes, cut each other off, and accelerate with a flourish of gear-shifting noises. I wondered half-heartedly why they felt it was so important to arrive at their destinations 2 minutes earlier than if they had just stayed in one lane and gone with the flow. Everybody was in too much of a needless rush these days. They were frantic to go nowhere. As I pondered my life in the slow lane a bright red BMW 650ci passed me illegally on the shoulder of the road and roared into my lane just inches in front of me. I was forced to slam on the brakes with such force that my body lurched forward and my coffee flew out of the drink holder between the seats. When I regained my composure I could see the red Beemer cutting in and out of lanes ahead of me. All that was visible of the driver were her platinum blonde hair and her well-manicured hand flicking a cigarette out the window.

Half an hour later I arrived at my shoot. I noticed a gleaming red 650 parked in the driveway of the location as I pulled in. All of a sudden the proverbial dime dropped in my head. That was Stacy's vehicle and she was the bitch who had cut me off on the freeway! I stormed into the studio and confronted her. At first she looked startled, but then she laughed in my face and said: "I can't believe that was you driving that piece-of-shit Volkswagen!" She was still laughing when I smacked her upside her platinum blonde head. All mirth was quickly forgotten as this ugly battle quickly escalated to outrageous proportions.

Join www.TanyaDanielle.com to see who emerged victorious..

- XXOO Tanya

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The Defiling of Jake

2007-01-05T13:55:00.001-08:00

There had been a long line of transgressions in Jake's recent past: his failure to complete simple tasks in exchange for free room and board, the fist he had smashed into my windshield during a night of drunken revelry, his hanging out with crack-smoking degenerates at the Traveller's Inn in Inglewood, etc. Finally I had had enough and subjected him to a brutal attack featuring blows to the head, rear naked chokes, triangle chokes, mounted lion chokes, the dreaded leg scissors, and a multiplicity of other tortures..

Join www.JackOffLand.com to see the entire brutal gallery now!

- XXOO Tanya

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Russian Mafia

2007-01-05T13:16:00.000-08:00

If you come to my place you will see a stain in the ceiling of my livingroom. It is a bloodstain that dripped through the floorboards of the apartment above when the former occupant was killed at home. Rumor has it he was with the Russian Mafia. Is there such a thing as a Russian Mafia? "Mafia" has to be one of the most overused words in the English language. Every wanna-be bad guy claims to be a part of some type of "mafia." I have no idea what precipitated the death of my neighbor upstairs nor do I know whether he was really with some clandestine group of criminals or not. In any case, the blood pooling inside my ceiling did prompt me to cover my teal green couch with a slipcover. I certainly would not want any bloodstains on that classic piece of furniture.

Shannan Leigh came over and snottily commented that I must be really broke if I was recycling bedsheets to cover up my shabby home decor. Yep, that's what she said. I was determined to show Miss High-and-Mighty a thing or two after her unwelcome remark. It was not an easy fight.

Join www.TanyaDanielle.com now to see the final outcome of this emotionally-charged debacle!

- XXOO Tanya

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Rude Awakening

2007-01-04T10:18:00.000-08:00

I live in an old building that has lots of deferred maintenance. Recently a plumbing problem in the bathroom of one unit caused the ceiling of the unit below it to cave in. Now I am hampered by thoughts that one day I'll be using the toilet only to go crashing through the floor and land in the apartment beneath me with my underwear around my ankles. My roommates both think my fears are funny. One of them laughed aloud about the subject and said: "Sure takes the fun out of shitting and reading the newspaper, doesn't it?" His girlfriend and I looked at him with disgust as he collapsed in gales of laughter. Eventually she started laughing right along with him. No one seems to understand how this absurd notion is keeping me up at night. It really is costing me sleep. The other day I was so tired that I threw a sheet over Mike Raffone's signature teal couch and fell fast asleep during a shoot. Shannan Leigh was the other model and she attempted to wake me up. I felt someone pulling on my arm and didn't know where I was for a moment. For an instant I thought the plumbing nightmare was really happpening and I was descending through the air into the apartment below mine! Too late I realized that it was Alexis lifting me off the couch with her superhuman strength so I would continue with the shoot. She was imperious, angry and already gaining the upper hand in what would prove to be a really nasty catfight..

Join www.TanyaDanielle.com to see the full "Rude Awakening" gallery now!

- XXOO Tanya

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Savage Cherokee!

2007-01-03T16:16:00.000-08:00

Cherokee came over last night on the pretext that she wanted to help me out. She had seen the previous Tuesday's photos of Kim Chambers and myself battling on my site at www.JackOffLand.com . Cherokee told me she wanted to show me a few moves that I could use the next time I got into a fight. I pointed out that a 4'11 doll such as herself really needn't worry about such things as fighting, particularly since someone of her size was only equipped to take on a kindergartener or an age-shrunken Alzheimer's patient, and that I really didn't need to learn any new moves anyways. She pointed out that an aging fatso like me better learn to bust a few new moves, particularly since I looked like I was stuck in a time warp with my bleached hair and overly large breast implants, and that I was a tacky slob who evidently hadn't changed my dress since I fought Kim Chambers. As soon as her words registered I grabbed two handfuls of her hair and prepared to subject her to the worst torment of her life. Suffice it to say that Cherokee was much stronger and more vengeful than previously anticipated, and that neither of us wears underwear..

Join www.JackOffLand.com now to see who triumphed in this dirty battle!

- XXOO Tanya

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The Hokey Pokey: Part 1

2007-01-03T14:54:00.000-08:00

"What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about?"

I stared at that message for an hour on the 405 freeway as I slowly made my way into the San Fernando Valley. It was on a bumper sticker affixed to the car in front of me and it was a valid question. Every time I tried to stop thinking about it my mind would find another angle of the issue to examine. Life really could be as much about the hokey-pokey as anything else. I tried fruitlessly to remember all the lyrics of the hokey-pokey song. It was a song, right? What exactly was the hokey-pokey anyways? It was a dance, right? Is it still a dance? Does anyone remember that song besides me? Evidently so, given the fact that someone made a bumper sticker to commemorate it. Or was their hokey-pokey different from my hokey-pokey? I didn't even really remember what my hokey-pokey was. I kinda sorta did, but I wouldn't have wanted to bet money that I was entirely correct.

It was eery how long I was behind the car with the hokey-pokey sticker. For a short while I became nervous that the driver might be going the same place I was. It would have been downright unsettling if the person turned out to be a friend of cameraman Mike Raffone. Fortunately the driver continued going straight as I turned on to Mike's street. I parked and headed into the shoot with my bag full of stripper gear. On this day I'd be shooting a sex scene with sweet, sexy Cherokee.

The scene should have gone well because I love working with Cherokee, but I could not shake off the hokey-pokey conundrum and enjoy the sex. She started getting mad and our scene quickly degenerated into a busty battle for supremacy..

Who won this impromptu catfight? Join my archive site www.JackOffLand.com to find out!

- XXOO Tanya

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Violation of Trust

2006-12-28T22:08:00.000-08:00

Allowing someone to tie you up is an act of trust. I like to have sex when I am tied up. Jewell and I often combine passion and sexplay when we are together. The other day I made a horrible misjudgment when I let her bind me with crimson rope just two days after we had had a nasty fight. I thought she had gotten over our differences and was ready to move forward. She was so sweet when she began kissing me and whispering how she wanted to make me feel good after she tied me up. By the time I noticed the malignant gleam in her eye it was too late. I was already gagged and completely restrained by the crimson rope..

You can see the full "Crimson Rope" gallery at my archive site www.JackOffLand.com now!

- XXOO Tanya

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bondage

Just Who is Mike Raffone?

2006-12-27T15:45:00.000-08:00

Mike Raffone and I have been shooting custom videos together for the past 10 years. You can only imagine the vast magnitude of fetish/sex/masturbation videos that we have shot since then. Actually, you probably can't. We've done sex, masturbation, striptease, catfighting, wrestling, hairwashing, femdom, trampling, public flashing, exercise shows, superheroine fantasies, cop impersonations, ass worship, bondage, spy thrillers, cheerleader shows, S&M, tickling, belly punching, boxing, readings of erotic fiction, cooking shows and the list goes on and on and on. And on.

We have amasssed ten years worth of material and now we are opening up the vault. Within the next few days Tanya Danielle's Raffone Theatre will debut at Clips4Sale.com!

Would you like to know a bit more about custom videos? And about Mike Raffone? Here's an excerpt from the Custom Video page at www.TanyaDanielle.com . I believe my webmaster and I wrote this in 2002:

Tanya L-O-V-E-S doing hot, sexy CUSTOM VIDEOS. What is a custom video? Please read through the following FAQs where she answers that and many other oft-asked custom-related questions.

1) WHAT IS A CUSTOM VIDEO?

A custom video is a video for which YOU write the script. I will act out your wildest fantasy. Do you want me to be a scantily clad nurse who sneaks into your hospital room BEGGING you to fuck me, doing anything I can think of to entice you? Am I your highschool chemistry teacher who calls you into the classroom for an afterschool "conference?" Do you want me to command you to worship my ass? In YOUR custom script YOU detail the activities, wardrobe, dialogue, hairstyle, location (within reason), and anything else you want to see.

2) WHAT WILL YOU DO OR NOT DO?

My custom video parameters are the same as all my other onscreen parameters. I perform only with other women or by myself. I save men for my personal life! I am very open to all types of fetishes and have engaged in a fair amount of experimentation in such realms as bondage, S & M, foot fetish, catfighting, wrestling, hosiery fetish, and sensuous hairwashing. Of course I am always open to new experiences.......try me!!

3) HOW GOOD IS THE PRODUCTION QUALITY OF THE CUSTOM VIDEOS?

I would consider it to be more amateur production quality than studio production quality. We progress with the shooting with as few cuts and as little editing as possible. As a performer I have always found that it is difficult to get my juices flowing and keep them going if the cameraperson is stopping continually to readjust camera angles and lighting. In most productions filmed by adult video companies that is usually the case. Understandable, because they usually only allow about 10 or 15 minutes for each edited sex scene so they want it to be as explicit as possible with the clearest camera angles and best lighting. When I do a custom video I'd rather focus on the script and make it as HOT and EROTIC as possible, even if that comes occasionally at the expense of the perfect camera shot. Have you ever watched a porno and thought the girls were faking it? If you order a custom video from me, I can guarantee you'll know that I'm not!!

4) HOW SPECIFIC CAN I BE WHEN REQUESTING WARDROBE AND ACCESSORIES?

You can request whatever you like, but accessories and wardrobe used in your video are subject to my already owning them, being able to borrow them, or buy them for a reasonable price (e.g. I'm happy to buy a particular style of panties for you, but it's not feasible for me to go purchase a purple leather dominatrix ensemble for one video.) If you would like to send me any particular items for use in your video I will return them to you when I mail you the video. Unless, of course, you would like for me to keep them. (I won't complain!)

5) CAN I COME WATCH YOU FILM MY CUSTOM VIDEO IF I ORDER ONE?

No. The reason for that is probably pretty self-evident. Although I'm sure 95% of the people coming to this site are decent, upstanding, fun people, I can't take the chance on meeting the 5% who would pay money to come to a shoot and behave inappropriately. I don't look like it, but I have a very bad temper. It would be a shame for me if I had to go to jail for any length of time for breaking someone's head with a lamp. It would also suck for me if I was killed with an axe after allowing a stranger to come to a private location for a shoot.

6) CAN I APPEAR WITH YOU IN A CUSTOM VIDEO IF I ORDER ONE?

Uh.......no. Please refer to the answers for Questions 2 and 5.

7) HOW DO I ORDER A CUSTOM VIDEO?

Please contact cameraman Mike Raffone at cuelvideo@hotmail.com for all details and pricing info.

8) WHO IS MIKE RAFFONE? HOW ABOUT SOME BACKGROUND SO I FEEL COMFORTABLE CORRESPONDING WITH THIS GUY..

Cameraman Mike Raffone has been shooting my customs since 1995. We have photos from then. They are very funny. I suppose I was much more awkward in front of the camera at that time. Mike is an East Coast Italian guy who has yet to make peace with being transplanted to the West Coast. In my early years he was the one to point out my ineptitude and berate me for my on-camera foibles. I listened, I learned, I endured. A friend of mine named Therese had put me in touch with Mike in '95, or was it '94? She said he could use me for some custom video work. I'd never heard of a "custom video," but I called him anyways. He sounded like a grumpy guy in his sixties and he told me to come see him for an interview anytime the traffic was heavy, particularly during the evening rush hour. He informed me that he stayed home when the roads were busy and he had stuff to do when they weren't. I was new enough to the business that I got in my VW during rush hour and drove out to the San Fernando Valley (1 and a half hours of drive time) for an "interview" instead of telling him to fuck off. To my surprise Mike was nowhere near his sixties, he was more than two decades younger than that. He wasn't grumpy, exactly, he was just sarcastic and rude. Thus began our alliance. Mike taught me about custom videos, and I learned to relax in front of the camera and really enjoy participating in and bringing to life the special, scripted fantasies.

Mike has heard it all. You can't be embarrassed around Mike. He was one of the originators of the custom video in Los Angeles. Brittany Andrews, Cherokee, Stacy Cash, Taylor St. Claire, Sara St. James, Carolyn Monroe, and I all started doing customs with him.

Please visit Mike's own custom video informational site at http://www.sensuousstripteasers.com/guests/pages/customvideopg.html . Here Mike describes his custom video vision, with which I am in complete agreement, and describes his years of experience in the field.

9) WHERE CAN I SEE EXAMPLES OF MIKE'S VIDEO WORK?

Please visit Mike's two other websites:

www.HairLatherGirls.com

www.WorshipMyButt.com

These two sites grew out of Mike's years of custom shooting. After nearly 10 years of numerous requests for hairwashing and ass worship videos Mike catalogued all of his material and is presenting it in these two venues.

10) IS IT OK TO USE MIKE RAFFONE'S E-MAIL ADDRESS TO INQUIRE ABOUT HIRING YOU FOR ESCORT WORK?

Please don't. I don't do escort work. Mike likes fulfilling dreams, not shooting down impossible e-mail requests.

11) HOW MUCH DO CUSTOMS COST?

A good ballpark idea of custom video rates for myself and other models is also available at Mike's site:

www.sensuousstripteasers.com/guests/pages/customvideopg.html.

12) HOW LONG AFTER PAYMENT WILL IT TAKE FOR ME TO RECEIVE MY CUSTOM VIDEO?

To some extent it depends on my workload that month, but a reasonable expectation is less than 2 weeks.

Should you have any other questions for Tanya about customs please direct them to Mike at cuelvideo@hotmail.com . Otherwise please contact Mike to...................
BEGIN PRODUCTION ON YOUR OWN HOT, EROTIC CUSTOM VIDEO!!!!!!!

- XXOO Tanya

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Hobnobbers

2006-12-27T15:06:00.000-08:00

Stacy Burke and I were sitting on the teal couch in Mike Raffone's studio waiting for the third model to show up for our shoot. Stacy grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. The four broads from The View were just beginning their exchange of repartee. One of the largest of the quartet was wearing a plunging neckline that displayed her immense rack. I commented to Stacy that her wardrobe selection was a bit strange for someone who hosts a show geared towards the housewives of the United States. For some reason my words aroused Stacy's ire.

"Since when did you become so judgmental? You wear tight shirts and low-cut blouses all the time." she said.

"I'm not judgmental. She should wear whatever she wants to wear. I like seeing big boobs but I've noticed that most women, particularly housewives, do not." I tried to explain, surprised that she had misconstrued my remark in that way.

"You're as bad as all the women who stare at us and make nasty comments when we're out in public wearing sexy clothes." she retorted.

"I wasn't making a nasty comment." I protested with exasperation. "Her blatant show of cleavage just struck me as odd since her target audience is a bunch of housewife-types who, in my experience, often seem to disparage the showing of flesh. I applaud her giant rack, but I doubt her 40-year-old viewers in the suburbs of Oklahoma feel the same way."

"How do you know that only housewives watch this show?" Stacy shot back. "You and I are sitting here watching this show and we're not housewives."

"We're watching this show because you picked it. I'm not the dumbass who commandeered the remote control and chose to sit in on some middle-aged coffee-klatsch session!" I said angrily. "Is this what you put on your TV at home when you're not working? Maybe it's time for you to hang up your G-string and go join the Junior League."

Stacy regarded me in silence for a few moments. Then with surprising speed she grabbed me by the throat, pointed an admonishing finger in my face, and hissed:

"You know, someday in the future I'll probably adapt very nicely to the suburban lifestyle. You, on the other hand, will be clinging desperately to your youth until one day you find yourself working a truckstop in Barstow. I'll be involved in family activities while you are trying to eke out a living by providing $10 handjobs in the front cabs of big rigs."

At some point in our argument Mike Raffone must have crept into the room and started snapping photos. He captured our brutal, naked catfight for posterity and you can see it all at my archive site www.JackOffLand.com.

Someday -years from now- I'll trot out those photos when Stacy is attending a PTA fundraiser or hobnobbing with her female neighbors in suburbia..

- XXOO Tanya

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Straitjacket

2006-12-27T14:33:00.000-08:00

Jewell Marceau has never been to The Harbor Room in Playa del Rey, CA so she does not know the scene there. I told her that the average age of the patrons is about seventy years of age but she must have thought I was kidding or exaggerating or something. I'm not prone to hyperbole when I'm dicussing the places where I go to drink. Recently I was in there chatting with a man in his forties who told me that he identifies himself around town as "the youngest guy who goes to The Harbor Room." I genuinely enjoyed the humor of his chosen moniker on a number of different levels. My gaze had travelled around the tiny, wood-panelled bar while I surveyed the assorted customers and nodded my appreciation for his words. I always feel like a teenager when I walk in that place, but that's not why I go there. On another occasion a different patron had asked me why I frequent The Harbor Room. He had posed the question in a mild, offhand manner but I could tell that he was really interested in hearing my answer. I remember turning my head and gazing towards nothing while I said:

"I just like to go places where I can drink a lot and nobody looks at me strangely."

I had punctuated my words with an inane giggle, but the man's expression had turned serious and he had immediately responded:

"This is a good place for that."

I think he may have repeated the sentiment a second time with the same tone of flat certainty/reassurance. Or maybe it had just resounded within my head again. In any case, we had both continued our descent into a mellow, alcoholic haze in companionable silence. It takes one to know one.

Jewell would not enjoy The Harbor Room so I never brought her there with me. Last week I mentioned that one of their bartenders had asked me for ID when I'd stumbled in off the beach around midnight. It struck me as funny since I knew exactly why it had happened. Often older people lose their ability to discern the ages of younger generations. I occasionally have that problem myself. People have kids and I can't tell if their child is 12 or 18. Seriously. That's just how it goes. That night I had handed the bartender my ID while a woman at the bar said:

"Well it certainly is nice to be asked, isn't it?"

I had responded uncomfortably with a brief, idiotic giggle which is generally what my stupid self does when I don't know what to say. An elderly man to my right had observed me for a moment before commenting:

"Just enjoy it, sweetheart. The years go fast. They go real fast. Enjoy it while you can."

I could tell that he meant it. He really meant it. I had paid for my vodka and headed towards the back of the miniscule establishment. The elderly man, the woman, and her friend were the only other patrons in the place. I had listened to their conversations as I stared into my vodka and kept my back to the rest of the room. No one had cared what I was doing or perceived my posture as being unfriendly. I may have been forty years younger than any of them, but I had the soul of an old drunk and they could tell that I was not there to actively socialize.

Jewell rolled her eyes when I recreated the whole scene for her at our recent shoot in Mike Raffone's studio. She could not have more thoroughly misunderstood my story if she had been trying. Maybe she was trying. She said:

"What? Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to brag that you still get carded when you go to bars?"

I stared back at her, the levity of my mood quickly vanishing. Just a moment earlier I had felt happy and upbeat. Now here she was trying to twist my words around on me. Lately I've lost patience for people who do that. It's like they are just waiting for an opportunity to slap you down. Over nothing. Maybe I was overreacting but I turned a steely gaze on her pretty face and hissed:

"Look here, you dumb cunt, that's not what I was trying to convey to you. I was trying to tell you about the place, the patrons, how different it is from other bars, how mellow it is, how old everyone is, how.."

As it turned out Jewell probably never heard anything after the "dumb cunt" reference because she tackled me to the ground in such a fit of monstrous rage that I found myself restrained inside a straitjacket just mere moments later. How did she do that?? Of course I noticed Mike Raffone gleefully snapping photos from across the room long after I was incapacitated and could do nothing about it. Suffice it to say that he captured every gross indignity that I suffered at Jewell's hands that afternoon: the straitjacket, the leather straps, the wooden paddle, the gigantic ballgag, the probing hands..

Someday I really am going to end up in an insane asylum.

Join my archive site www.MyXXXPast.com to see the full "Straitjacket" gallery now!

- XXOO Tanya

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Hobnobbers

Straitjacket

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