SGL Café

On the set: Taylor Siluwé's cult hit coming to life

...about Dancing with the Devil: THE MOVIE Inspired by the darkly provocative cult hit DANCING WITH THE DEVIL. (Directed by Lovari & Taylor Siluwé) It's been a long time coming,but despite financial difficulties and a tough economy, the DWTD train has left the station with preliminary filming taking place on 7.20.10. Although there was a surprising (to say the least) last minute cast change, the shoot went off without a hitch. More details to come here sporadically, but the entire process will be documented and stills uploaded to Dancing with the Devil's Facebook page. Featured: Navi Rozi, Gianni Astorgia, Trel Howard & Jonathan Nunez While you wait impatiently for DWTD to drop, check out Taylor Siluwé's other works: His new and most eclectic short story collection to date - Cheesy Porn...and other fairytales. ...and the story that launched his career - A TASTE for CHERRIES By doing so, you'll be supporting Same Gender Love centric films moving beyond the concept stage. Or, become a sponsor of the film by donating below. Large or small contributors will hear from Taylor and be added to the films list of sponsors. The DWTD crew thanks you in advance for clicking the button below ...

Cheesy Porn ... and other fairytales

** See important message below excerpt. ** ...Because some things beg to be touched [excerpt from Cheesy Porn] ...Across the street from the scene of the pickle incident, my eyes gravitated toward the white-washed windows of the store-fronts in the same morbid way people turn toward car accidents. The door was open for the first time in eons; its darkened interior echoed like a low moan and stroked my lonely soul. So I drifted across the street through the summer haze and heat, ignoring that acidic memory gurgling in my stomach. Squinting inside, I focused on a tall guy on a ladder doing something to a light fixture. Paint cans, broken sheet-rock and all sorts of crap littered the floor beneath him. He wore torn and paint-splattered denim shorts, oversized and hung extremely low, the back pockets were almost out of reach of his pale, hairy arms. His purple and white boxers were on display, looking crisp and new compared to the shorts, shirtless and sweating, his baseball cap cocked and balanced the way only the youngest and coolest can cock and balance it. Waves of jet-black hair spiraled out the back. A small paint-splattered boom box on the dusty counter blared Outcast’s infectious old hit, ‘Hey Ya!’ The same counter where I’d once pointed at a promising five-gallon jar and said—One, please. As always, when I heard that song my body started to move, doing that quirky little dance that André 3000 did in the video. Thoughts of fuzzy pickles, explosive diarrhea, and debilitating stomach cramps faded, and I had a moment. I drifted into the store, sandals crackling over sheet-rock. He was six-one maybe two, Puerto Rican or maybe Spanish—Spain Spanish, I mean. He was feeling the music also, snapping narrow hips to the beat as he fiddled with the fixture, oblivious that we were dancing together. I danced closer. Don’t know why. Don’t remember doing it. But next thing I knew I was at the base of the ladder looking up at that pale, youngest and coolest-of-the-cool Puerto Rican guy—or Spain Spanish—who was dancing on a ladder, fucking with a fixture, head craned back looking straight up. It was amazing he didn’t fall. I could’ve reached out and stroked the hairs on his calves. I could’ve pulled his boxers down and exposed a pale butt with more hairs poking from the crack. I could’ve extended a finger and trailed it down the line of that sweaty spine, down through the crack and tickled him there; yeah, I could’ve done that. Outcast blared. He danced and fiddled. I hovered below and behind, so close I could feel the heat coming through those boxers, could smell his tangy pheromone—with just a splash of cologne—that the youngest and coolest-of-the-cool kats emit in the heat of July. I watched my hands hover at his hips, as if I was gonna lift him off that ladder; watched as they slowly, almost imperceptibly, made contact with thin damp cotton. Still, he danced and fiddled; unaware that my uncontrollable lust was lurking so close to his cherished parts, delirious from his scent. Suddenly, as if they had little minds of their own, my hands clamped together and my fingers gripped his warm cottony hips right there in that old deli.... Available NOW! CHEESY PORN...and other fairytales Taylor Siluwé releases his most eclectic short-story collection to date. New tales of fantasy, fairies and obsession - from the whimsical to the shocking. Only on KINDLE ... (& apps for iPhone, iPad, Blackberry, PC and Android!) log onto www.TaylorSiluwe.com or search "Taylor Siluwe" on Amazon.com ** proceeds go to the DANCING WITH THE DEVIL page to screen project (preliminary filming begins 07.19.2010!)

...SUPPORT! Help us tell OUR stories all the time! If you want to see more and more Same Gender Love centric stories make that daring leap from page to screen, then put your money where your entertainment tastes lie. And support tangentially by supporting OUR businesses who cater to, and are for and about US. For example ... Shout outs to all those who have already donated much needed cash, expertise and well wishes. Special shout out to LAVENDERPOP Greeting Cards for the most generous financial support this week. Thank them by giving greetings for "diverse affections" for every occasion, or, just because. www.LavenderPop.com **

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In the coming weeks, preliminary shooting will begin on the film version of DANCING WITH THE DEVIL. Despite the tough economy and even tougher funding raising, we're forging ahead -- even if we have to live off Ramen noodles for months. Yes, its that serious. As artists and writers and activists struggle to tell stories geared toward same gender love, our stories, any and ALL donations from the community are greatly appreciated. Whatever you can spare, know that you are helping to bring more and more of OUR stories to light. So, please donate, by click button below.

Shameless plug ... Check out the short story that launched my career. A Taste for Cherries is a raw tale of selfish lust run amok, and its only available on KINDLE (and apps for iPhone, iPod, iPad & Blackberry) for only .99cents! It's yet another salacious tale you won't soon forget. ~ tS

Fiction du jour: A Taste for Cherries

This is the tale that launched my writing career. Stolen from my website and published without my consent back in 2002, I've finally released it on KINDLE for my readers to enjoy for only .99cents! A tale of selfish lust run amok. Kyle will stop at nothing to get what he wants. His modus operandi, to silently seduce an outwardly straight young man - his cherry of the minute. EXCERPT: The kid made a sound like a big cat going for the kill and lunged. Kyle expected the attack and before the kid knew what hit him, he was deftly knocked to the floor. Kyle climbed on top, pinning him face down. “Get off me!” “Shut up,” Kyle said almost too calmly, before wrapping his arm around the kid’s neck, effectively ending the vocal protests. As they lay there with their bodies pressed firmly together, the kid continued to struggle a little. His ass, covered only by thin cotton, seemed to wiggle lasciviously. Kyle felt his woodie growing. It throbbed between the cheeks of the kid; he stopped struggling. “Now listen, then I’ll let you up. Cool?” The kid nodded. Kyle’s dick throbbed. “I did fuck her – once. But it was a long time ago, before she knew you. It didn’t mean anything. All I’m trying to say is don’t get all caught up with one bitch−” His dick throbbed again. “−‘Hos come and go, but friends like me are always here for you−” Throb. “−To help you out−” Throb. “−And give you want you need, on the low. You feelin’ me?” The kid nodded again; his ass muscles clenched. Throb, throb. The passion was building to the point of no return. He wanted to fuck the boy right there. It would not be the wisest thing to do because someone could walk in at any moment. But good sense and lust did not mix well; like oil and water, one always rose to the top. As Kyle’s dick pulsated, his good judgment sank like a stone. The kid had a tattoo of a dragon on his back. Kyle brushed his lips lightly across the elaborate design, breathing in the aroma of salty flesh. He released his grip, but the kid did not seem to be in a hurry to get up – in fact, his eyes were closed. Kyle sensed acquiescence; he knew that he could fuck him right then and there. It had taken weeks to get to this point. Weeks of dropping sexual innuendo designed to intrigue the mind; weeks of showering in adjacent stalls and sharing Kyle’s Versace shower gel to aromatically intrigue the senses; weeks of well-placed touches designed to desensitize him to the stroke of a masculine hand; weeks of sharing exhausted moments in the locker room, too weak to speak, too tired to do anything but sit together and silently bond. All this was a part of Kyle’s usual plan, his modus operandi, to silently seduce an outwardly straight young man, his cherry of the minute.....