After a twelve-month hush, when the queer kink scene in Las Vegas felt like it was holding its breath, PROUD & Kinky swung the doors wide open on June 20, 2025, and reminded us exactly why we missed them. Their triumphant return, aptly titled “Naughty Playground,” took over The Usual Place and packed it with more than 230 revelers, each ready to rekindle the raw, electric magic that only a well-run, radically inclusive play party can conjure.
Recently, I exhibited my art piece, “The Fuckball,” at a festival, and it was destroyed. For those of you who don’t know what this is, I am an artist, and I created a 6-foot-tall, colorful, latex inflatable ball covered in 12 penetrable vulvas (and one not-so-secret butthole). The Fuckball represents the objectification of female sexuality, but it has multiple layers of meaning and has existed in a variety of forms as a piece of art.
On a Saturday night in downtown Las Vegas, Main Street buzzes with energy; bars are packed, neon signs glow against the desert night, and music spills from open doors onto the sidewalk. But once a month, that energy takes on a different kind of charge inside Swandive, one of the city’s hottest small venues. That’s when PrideStyle Inclusive Pro Wrestling takes over, turning the nightlife hotspot into a roaring arena of body slams, sequins, and unfiltered queer joy.
My journey started in 2020 during lockdown. I turned 40 a few weeks into the shutdown. Locked in the house with my partner, feeling scared, lonely, frustrated, and invisible. I had been around sex workers, swingers, polycules, queer folx, and other open-minded people for years. Watching how they seemed comfortable in their own skin. And I wasn’t. I was insecure about my body, my weight, and my age.
Consent should be enthusiastic, freely given, informed, specific. A clear and voluntary choice. An agreement made with your voice. Well, that sounds nice, with so much clarity we’ll avoid all that vulgarity of being misunderstood or seen as not so good.
How does your kink identity influence your creative work? I've been making art my whole life, but the intersection of kink and creativity for me is where I started performing. When I started in burlesque, I was exposed to an entire world of queerness and kink I'd never experienced before. It changed my entire life overnight and put me on the path to piecing together exactly who I am and what I want. I feel that all of my creative work is informed by this, either directly or indirectly.
What message do you hope your work sends to other queer kinky people, especially those just starting to explore? My work is ultimately a love letter to queer kinky people, especially those just starting to explore. I want it to say: you are not alone. There’s power and beauty in discovering your desires, even if the world tries to shame them. I hope my art gives permission to feel, to want, and to play without apology.
What themes of BDSM, power exchange, or sensuality show up in your art most often, and why? My art showcases my versatile interests. I believe that sensuality is the main driver of my artwork. Without this idea of the power exchange of dance or sex or both, much of my writing, performance, and physical art wouldn’t exist.
How does your kink identity influence your creative work? It comes up in a lot of ways. As a DJ, I tend to gravitate towards songs that are femme-empowered, as well as those that celebrate female dominance or supremacy. There is a LOT of industrial and Electronic Body Music with that topic. One of the reasons I like that genre so much.
Miles Fallon may have gotten his start in Philadelphia, but the rising gay adult film star knew that to take his career to the next level, he needed more than just passion, he needed a playground. “Philly has a special place in my heart,” he reflects, “but when it comes to the adult scene, it’s way more lowkey.” With no major studios and limited local opportunities, Fallon found himself constantly on the move, bouncing from coast to coast to stay in the game.
