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REGULARS
posted 4/17/2002
Editor's note: an intercepted fan letter to Kim Cattrall, author, is reproduced here in
its entirety.
Dear Kim,
I just had to write to tell you how absolutely wonderful I found Satisfaction: The Art of the Female Orgasm. I knew you were versatile, as evidenced by how convincingly you've played both a shallow, self-absorbed, sex-obsessed "uptown" girl and a mannequin. But I had no idea you could write, too: "The material in this book is like color on an artist's palette. It is up to the man to paint the picture; the woman is the inspirational guide." Sheer poetry. Besides the twenty-four-point font size, which made for easy reading, I also really liked how many unique and different ways you found to express the same sentiment over and over to help educate your readers — no simple feat.
Admittedly, I was expecting more of the same sailor talk I've come to love and expect from your character on Sex and the City. Like you've said before, "Samantha" is "such a champion, she's fearless," especially when it comes to sucking off rich strangers in the hope of gaining a little power and status. But you — Kim Cattrall: wife, lover, human being — you make blow jobs more than an act of courage; you make them an act of love, as especially illustrated in your description of the position you so eloquently titled "Out of Her Vagina, into Her Mouth."
While I minored in psychology at Vassar, even I wouldn't have thought to apply a Jungian analysis to the 2000 Hollywood sleeper, The Gift (starring Cate Blanchett, Katie Holmes and Keanu Reeves, and written, as I was surprised to learn, by Billy Bob Thornton), as a way to unveil that universal truth: men suck in bed. Of course, that's just my rudimentary summation of your thesis; I obviously don't possess your "gift" for gentle prose.
It also seems like you've landed a keeper. When I read the back flap of your book, I was not at all surprised to discover your devastatingly handsome partner and co-author is an accomplished jazz musician. Jazz is so sensual. Classics in the Key of G by Kenny G is one of my fiancée's favorite CDs in our 1,000-disc player.
Speaking of Chad, my own "little keeper," I'd like to share one example of how your book has touched both our lives. One recent Sunday morning, after a jog to the dog run with Wynston, our purebred chocolate lab, my sweetie returned to our Upper East Side co-op with two grande soy chai lattes and a couple of organic raisin scones (of course, I just picked out the raisins and took a pass on all those carbs). Per your hygiene suggestion, I handed my hubby-to-be a bar of hard-milled vegetable-based lemon verbena soap, Tom's of Maine peppermint toothpaste and Kiehl's extra-moisturizing shaving cream (you know, to rid him of any of his own natural, nasty, manly muskiness). He finally took the subtle hint when I told him he had to take a shower to receive his "special surprise." When he finally emerged from the bathroom in his white terrycloth robe, there I was, completely, deliciously naked (except for the big and bold lacquered resin wrist cuff created by accessories designer Colette Malouf), sprawled out in the middle of our master bedroom floor on my new Prada yoga mat, Satisfaction by my side, open to page 125.
"Honey, I'd like to try some new things. I hope you will like them," I said, taking a cue from your suggestions on open communication. I pointed to the top of the next page, signaling him to start reading his part, as he dropped his robe and tied his long, flowing, quite bohemian hair into a practical ponytail.
"I feel that you have a lot more inside you that wants to come out, and I'd like to help bring it out of you." He got into character immediately (you know, he's done some excellent work at the Hamptons summer community theater festivals). "I'd like to forget about my penis for a little while and concentrate on you . . ."
"But what about you?!" I pleaded, and then improvised a bit by repeating myself for emphasis: "What about you?"
"Really getting into your pleasure will turn me on even more." He read on: "And I think it would be good for me to feel you more." Then he gave me a deep, soul kiss that lasted for what seemed like all eternity. We made sweet, deep love all day long, employing your various techniques, like breast caressing and the woman-on-top position. Unfortunately, when we got to your suggestions on anal play, we discovered a little too late that what apparently "needed to come out" of me was last night's macrobiotic dinner. But even that little "accident" brought us closer together and led us further down the path to deeper intimacy.
So there you have it. Thank you for taking the time out of your hectic schedule to read a humble little note of appreciation from a viewer, a reader, a fellow sister. Keep up the good and important work.
