I was circling the creative drain while editing what was intended to be my debut story (titled In the Shade of the Tiger Lily, a sexy drug-fueled sci-fi spy thriller set in the ’80s) when my spouse suggested that I try working on something else instead. The plot of this new venture was born of a joke concept: a lowly meter maid bumbles her way through solving some inconsequential mystery with sex… or (as Adrian puts it) the pitch for Zootopia, but with horny humans instead of celibate anthros, and queer kinky erotica instead of sterile corporate cishet Disney ‘wholesomeness’.
The idea gradually accrued gravitas as I continued to explore it, until the story became a romantic thriller about a meter maid who refuses to play by the rules, fighting for her life against the forces of corruption and social injustice. The spirits of humor and sex, however, never left, but merely made room in bed for the gravitas and romance, and the three moods got along so well that they found themselves in an intimate relationship with each other. Polyamorous love wins again.
Fannie Spanker was born and raised in Southern California. She listens to the music of the Red Hot Chili Peppers as though they were the prophets of the southern half of her state. She dreams of someday smashing a police car (or a Tesla) in an L.A. riot, though she’s too much of a coward to participate in even the most peaceful of protests.
Once upon a time, Fannie had a badge, but it got taken away because she slacked on her tasks and slept on the job when she thought nobody was looking. (Her boss came a-looking whenever he couldn’t reach her on Skype, and on at least two occasions caught her in the act of snoozing with her face planted on her desk.) For 12 years she sucked at her job. For 12 years she observed the behavior of her coworkers and the inhumane and unethical behavior they engaged in. For 12 years her bosses were unable to hire someone else to do her job because they didn’t want to deal with the union. And now that she’s retired and collecting a government pension paid for by the bastards whose time and money she wasted, they’re officially paying her to not do her job while she writes pornographic anti-cop propaganda.
At least, that’s what she tells herself to feel better about being a pig for over a decade and only leaving her fascist profession when her mental health issues made her so bad at her job that her employers had no choice but to fire her and the union was sick of trying to protect her. She wouldn’t blame you for hating or mistrusting her for her past career choices.