It’s hard to picture the word “sex” without thinking about Ivy Gams. In 1981 she was responsible for 64% of the self-achieved orgasms in the western world. Ivy was liquid intercourse poured into a human-shaped mold: big blue eyes that every man wanted to swim in and legs long enough for the Concorde to land on. Her band, Venus Possessed, was praised by critics and admired by contemporaries. It was an alt-rock maelstrom that donkey-punched the testicles of the music industry while making the first assault of the male-dominated rock charts.
Their debut album, “Aikido Libido,” seized all eyes and ears between spring and winter of 1981. Every magazine begged her for access. Entire media empires were holding precious space available until the last minute over the mere possibility of a photo from their roving hordes of paparazzi. Competition became fierce as rival publications were offering obscenely high rates, prompting photographers to adopt brutal tactics. A visit to her obstetrician prompted a small fight to break out between two tabloid photographers, leading to a bloody six-day skirmish now referred to as “The Flash War.”
Her reluctance to engage with the media had earned Ivy a reputation of “Ice Queen”—a moniker she gladly embraced and began to weave into her public persona. She even dyed her hair platinum white and adorned blue eyeliner. Ivy broke every rule and challenged every convention. The very moment you became comfortable with her identity, she changed it with the power and fluidity of an emotionally turbulent tidal wave. Her pairing with Eddie Inferno felt like an inevitability—rock ‘n’ roll’s most fiery personality, and the music industry’s most frigorific femme fatale.
Their first meeting happened at a reception for Guatemala’s most proactive performance artist, Esteban Shit-Stain Inarritu. He was preparing to unveil his newest human installation: a 14-piece anus organ and puppet show, using repurposed anatomically precise courtroom dolls. After taking in the performance, which was described as “painfully graphic,” they ventured off into the solarium and shared a bottle of finely aged Quaaludes. While no one was there to hear the conversation, renowned celebrity lip-reader Shamus “Gum Flap” O’Donnell claims the discussion centered on the dining habits of waterfowl.
The attraction and molecular connection between the world’s most fuckable celebrities was instant. While there is no direct confirmation of their first sexual tryst, a 3.6 magnitude earthquake was recorded later that night, with the epicenter identified near or around villa #3 of the Château Marmot.
The world could barely contain their frantic enthusiasm for the coupling of Eddie Inferno and Ivy Gams. Some publications started referring to their union as “Fire and Ice,” while less lazy periodicals with a higher caliber of writers dubbed them “Ragnarok.” They toured across the nation, filling stadiums, ruining hotel suites and making fashionable nightspots uninhabitable. Their combined entourage rivaled the population of quaint rural communities and challenged the fire code of every bar, club and dining establishment they frequented.
While their genitalia were perfectly compatible, their personality types clashed at a molecular level. Reports from nosy onlookers incapable of minding their own business suggested Eddie struggled with emotions—specifically, Ivy’s emotions. While he became famous for freely expressing every and any thought that crossed his mind at a ridiculously high volume, his capacity to listen to anyone else was practically nonexistent—so much so, he was barely able to maintain a reasonable attention span for even the briefest of human encounters. He also struggled to hold interest in basic conversations. Interview questions were mandated to be limited to four words supported by flashcards, while orders at popular fast-food restaurants could take upward of 48 minutes.
Eventually, his inability to care about the thoughts and feelings of others affected his relationship with Ivy. She was searching for meaning and connections, which were concepts Eddie often referred to as “total bullshit.” Once the sex began to suffer, Eddie ended the relationship through a series of passive-aggressive press releases and off-the-record comments, yelled at gossip columnists through half-opened limousine windows.
Their breakup was the start of Eddie’s descent into debauchery and ascension into godhood. Ivy soothed her wounded spirit with an eight-week bender of sobriety and abstinence, helping her achieve clarity that had eluded a generation of perpetually stoned performers. While Eddie was performing an acrobatic deep-dive into a dirty downward spiral, Ivy was becoming a more accomplished musician—and, frankly, a better human being. Free of Eddie and his toxic influence, she became the kind of icon the world was desperate for: a rock star who actually had a genuine concern for other human beings. She used her celebrity to bring attention to righteous causes and was capable of feeling empathy for people who weren’t famous.
Ivy’s newfound decency sent shock waves through the music community. The idea of considering the “non-famous” as actual people worthy of cogitation was something the rock ‘n’ roll community found repugnant. As Grant Cox, lead singer of Scunthorpe’s most famous musical export, the Throbbing Cox, famously said, “What’s the point of becoming famous if you can’t treat the unwashed masses like human garbage?”
In spite of mounting opposition, Ivy would lead herself and the rock ‘n’ roll community to a better place. There were consequences; she was ostracized by her peers, who begrudgingly followed her lead into a more reputable and less exciting space. Her name would be left off VIP guest lists and award nominations. She helped introduce an element of decorum into the music industry, and for her efforts, they escorted her to the other side of the velvet rope.
To her credit Ivy Gams never faltered or expressed regret for her choices—even after accusations that her campaign was an attempt to take a vindictive kingdom that Eddie Inferno helped erect. Had the decision been hers, Ivy would never again engage in semi-civilized discourse with the man she both loved and loathed. But circumstances changed, and something terrible was brewing in the margins of society and threatening to topple a world they helped build.
Ivy knew she couldn’t do it alone. She needed help from the last person on Earth she wanted to see.