Song for Christina
Entering Blakely St. James' erotic adventures with a rock & roll kidnapping
I may have binged a little bit — well, a lot — at the recent Golden Age Erotica Books sale, when everything was just $1. I picked up all of the Blakely St. James Christina stories, some Greenleaf swapper adventures, and a few pulp Sapphic romances that are sure to end in tragedy. Despite knowing that I have some big reading and writing projects ahead of me this year, I like knowing that my vintage smut needs have been met for a good long time. And I figure since I’m reading these, I might as well share some thoughts about them here. This may or may not be a weekly feature, depending on my pace working through my virtual stack of dirty paperbacks.
The first Christina story I read, Song for Christina, is a good introduction to these novels. I first ran across them when I worked at a paperback exchange store long, long ago (fictionalized a bit in this story); the store specialized in romance, mostly Harlequins and Gothics, but it had a little shelf or two of unabashed smut: some classics like “The Story of O”, a healthy selection of Grove Press Victoriana, and the occasional title like the “Christina” books.
The “Christina” books were published in the ‘70s and ‘80s by Playboy Press, and featured Playboy centerfold Jill DeVries in the cover photographs. They tell the stories of Christina Van Bell’s sexual exploits as she jet sets around the world, brushing shoulders (and other body parts) with rock stars, models, millionaires, and spies. Some of them have a little bit of an espionage thriller bent, some are a little more on the romance side, and all of them are unashamedly filthy.
“Song for Christina” has Christina and her friend Debbie visiting a Masculine Magazine (sic) party to check out Lenny Vance, a sexy new rock star who is rumored to be one of the greatest living lovers. Debbie is determined to become a groupie, whereas Christina is driven by curiosity — by this point she has already sampled a good many lovers, so she wants to see what all the fuss is about.
Alas, Lenny isn’t immediately smitten by Christina’s charms, and in a huff of displaced excess arousal she proceeds to get off with two other guests at the party, a Jamaican musician and weed dealer named Franklin and an Englishman named Joe Lawrence, who’s the band’s road manager. And she hatches a plot to get her revenge on Lenny by kidnapping him and forcing him to attend to the erotic desires of herself and Debbie.
It’s pretty preposterous, but also pretty hot. The story fully commits to the crazy premise and lets Christina get away with a few misdemeanors and felonies, not to mention a good amount of fucking, before the inevitable conclusion. The action is well-paced — a good sex scene every chapter or so, including the creative use of toys and one scene between Christina and Debbie — and the writing is relatively snappy. The final scene between Lenny and Christina (I guess that’s a spoiler? But really, we know from page one they’re going to get together …) is surprisingly sensuous.
It’s also very dated. I’ve seen publication dates of 1976 and 1980 for this title, but it feels a bit older even than that. There’s an undercurrent of unexamined misogyny throughout — Debbie, for instance, is upset that Lenny is interested in her more as a costume designer than as a sexual conquest — and some squares vs. hippies takes on rock & roll. It’s interesting that Christina makes clear that she is not a fan of rock music; she feels a bit older than intended, like a throwback to the early ‘60s mod era, happier in a bachelor pad with some lounge music on the hi fi than swinging with the kids. Despite having a Jamaican weed dealer and sometime reggae musician as a character, there’s surprisingly little casual racism (though Christina’s fantasy of being dominated by Franklin is a little on the edge).
There were also frequent references to “fuck rugs,” which I found a bit confusing at first. I was alive in the ‘70s, and I don’t recall there being rugs specifically designed for fucking as a common home decor. My best guess is that this is the author trying to be cute with “shag rugs,” and if so, I’m on board and will do my best to introduce “fuck rug” into the lexicon next time I’m in the market for floor treatments.
Should you spend $2, the current price at Golden Age Erotica, for “Song for Christina”? I’d say sure, it’s a good read, and most new smut on Amazon and Smashwords is priced around $2.99, so it’s a good value. I’m not sure it’s the best Christana Van Bell book, but it’s certainly representative. Should you watch for the next sale and binge when they’re just $1? Absolutely!
You can buy my books, most of which are just as filthy as “Song for Christina” and problematic in different ways, at most of the well-known and some less-well-known ebook sellers. They’re also available directly from me on Payhip; I’ve even got a few with slightly sexier covers than Amazon would allow …