Holly Randall Dreams About The Bunny Ranch

She posts on XPT:

I had a dream that I worked at the Bunny Ranch last night. All the girls had to wear doorman-like outfits, with the burgundy hat and coat and everything. I was really uncomfortable and I hated my job… They had some kind of orientation party, and I had to walk through with my stupid doorman outfit and seamed stockings and heels. Eddie Murphy was there, and he booked me for a session, but I couldn’t do it and I bolted before the appointed time. I woke up feeling really terrible– it was a very creepy dream. It’s still haunting me right now.

…Hey Burg– I also had a dream about you… well actually about your wheelchair. I dreamt you left it with me when you flew out of state, and I took it to Vegas and used it. I pretended I was a cripple so I could get in clubs ahead of the line, and get my drinks at the bar first. Then everyone found out I was faking and the entire town came chasing after me, wanting to lynch my ass.

Holly posts on MySpace:

You know you’re getting older when… Instead of guys asking me if I have a boyfriend, they’ve started asking me if I have a husband. Today a delivery boy posed that question, and I laughed so hard that I think he believes I’m a lesbian. It’s not that I don’t want to get married, it’s just that I’ve never even come remotely close to thinking about diving into that black hole with any of the guys I’ve dated. Which means that poor sucker who will end up my future husband is still out there, enjoying his freedom before I come along and steal it from him. Enjoy it while you can, buddy!

Holly writes for XBiz:

I love photographing women: Their curves, their grace and their inherent sexuality make them wonderful artistic subjects. And perhaps deep down, they represent an illustration of what I always wished I looked like — long-limbed, fluid, confident and desired.

So when Playgirl approached me about shooting solo male centerfolds for its magazine, I balked. Men are boxy, bulky and un-wielding. It takes a certain type of photographer to shoot males without making them look, well, gay. And funny enough, I noticed that these types of photographers tend to be homosexual males.

When I picture the perfect masculine yet sexy portrait of a man, I think of Herb Ritts’ "Fred With Tires," a black-and-white photo of a shirtless, greased-up young man in a garage, holding a large tire in each hand and glaring at the camera with a haughty, arresting gaze. Could I achieve a similarly sensual portrait? And how the hell was I going to pull this off?

I’d always said I hated shooting guys solo — they were only useful to me as a "prop" in hardcore sets. Someone to hold the girl’s knees up in a reverse cowgirl position, or a penis supplied for the model’s luscious lips to wrap around. But they were never the main focus of the photograph. And now, they were the sole subject of it.

Queerbot writes on XPT to Holly: "Good to see you’re helping someone’s daughter reach her full potential! What an honor, really."

Holly replies: "Thanks, I try. I’m so glad you acknowledge my hard work."