The Golden Shower, a Russian fairy tale

Russia has produced wondrous, if often grotesque, fairy tales.

Within the last few days you might have run into the term, “Golden Shower.” Could it be a Russian fairy tale? If not, what is it?

For those of us who have led relatively sedate sexual lives, I bring you an incident from decades ago, when I first heard the term “Golden Shower,” and probably said “Huh?” and I guess someone explained it to me, because I know what it means.

I was working at Paramount Pictures. For some reason I was asked to stay late one night to cover the phones (don’t you love that phrase, COVER THE PHONES?!) while two of our big time executives, who trusted me completely, met to have a discussion about some grand plan, I don’t remember what.

Because the only important thing I recall from that meeting was…

“Golden Showers.”

Sorry, guys, but I think I might have been eavesdropping, just a teeny-weeny little bit. So much for trust. Maybe I’m slightly ashamed. But only slightly. Or maybe the door wasn’t closed entirely. And I’m pretty sure they wanted me to hear.

After a few hours, they went off on a boy-talk tangent. (I won’t mention their names because one of them is still alive, and I liked both of them. Although I’m not sure either would be embarrassed by this exposure, both should be. Shame on youse, shame on youse. At least by my prim reckoning.)

They were doing that sexual bragging stuff that guys use as guy-to-guy intimate conversation, once they get past the introductory sports talk. The act in question came up in their dialogue. Somewhere, amid the sniggers, I picked up on “Golden Showers” and learned what it meant:

  • Man wishing for sexual adventure beyond what he usually does in bed retains the services of a prostitute whose price list includes this peculiar specialit√©.
  • If the man has money, he might retain a couple of prostitutes.
  • Thinking practically, I’ve got to guess at least one prostitute has to go drink a lot of water–you know, like when our physicians want a half a cup of our urine to test for diabetes.
  • The water, having proceeded downward as water will, exerts pressure on the prostitute’s bladder. The moment of high-paid service has arrived!
  • The more I think about this, the more I realize how incomplete the picture is. Where will the event proceed? Maybe in a bathtub, or a walk in shower?
  • Anyhow, wherever it happens: the man gets himself in a recumbent position. The prostitute stands over him and…pees into his mouth.
  • Swallow? Spit out? I guess that’s the man’s option.

There you have it, gentle readers. “The Golden Shower.” Or, in Russian, “zolotoy dush.” Couldn’t have been paid for by a more deserving character than The Twittler or video-ed by a more dedicated spy agency than the Russian FSB.

(Apologies. If you click on the Newsweek link above, you might have to sit through ten seconds of a Raymour & Flanigan commercial. No furniture purchase is required.)

 

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