Undressed to Kill

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Today, though, is more laid-back.

Nixion's weekend starts among a flurry of scantily clad women and ringing cell phones. Tucked away in the Los Feliz area of Hollywood, up a winding road flanked by palm trees, the SG headquarters is like a set plucked out of The Real World: hardwood floors with a scattering of large leather chairs and couches, some old drugstore signs bought from a garage sale, and a patio that overlooks the tiny lights of the city through a layer of smog. A pool table is strewn with proofs and photos of aspiring SGs. The house serves double duty as a studio and office for the site, and it's also home for 28-year-old Sean, a short, affable guy with dark hair and a goatee who happens to be the cofounder and web guru of SuicideGirls. He and six SGs are in the living room watching the new Probot video for the song "Shake Your Blood," the plot of which essentially is: Girls dance in skimpy clothing, Lemmy acts like his bad-ass self, girls lose more clothing, Lemmy flicks his tongue around like a lizard, a mob of girls writhe around, the end.

Sixty-six SGs were picked to be in the video, and this is the first time any of them has seen it. Hoots and catcalls reverberate off the walls, and it sounds more like a high school slumber party gone wild. Instead of "Ohmigod, I can't believe you like him!" the girls are exclaiming, "Ohmigod, that's hot!" and "That was me!" And instead of painting one another's toenails, they're watching the camera swirl around rapid-fire shots of girls -- many of whom are sitting there today -- kissing, licking, scratching, and whipping one another. In the den, a young man named Ryan sits in front of a computer, going over the guest list for tonight's SuicideGirls burlesque show in Silver Lake, the hipster-tastic area east of Hollywood.

"Well," he says looking through his Palm Pilot, "we have to let Dave Grohl in."

A staircase leads to two rooms; one is painted lavender, with a pair of twin beds in each corner. Shirts, bras, and socks explode from suitcases as girls prepare for the show that night. A creepy "I shouldn't be seeing this" vibe runs through the room as a teddy bear is spotted on the floor. The other room is a soothing shade of red, and a bed sits in the middle of the room, white sheets tousled. Nixion stands in the middle of the room with a contemplative look on her face.

"Hair up or down?" Nixion asks. She is dressed in a sheer white tank top. Her fine, poker-straight blond hair falls against her skin as she tries to hold it all up. She looks in the mirror while holding her breath before letting her hair fall squarely around her face, exhaling, and straightening the long white satin skirt against her lithe, leggy frame.

At any other photo shoot, makeup artists and hairstylists would be fussing over Nixion, trying to create the perfect look with an army of assistants. Not this SuicideGirl. Like most, Nixion doesn't have an agent, and she wasn't "discovered" by a talent scout at Starbucks. Today, Nixion has simply decided to be a fairy for her set. She brought her own clothes, makeup, and accessories. Her tiny bare feet scoot across the floor as she casually searches the room for a missing wand. Her hipbones peek out of the top of her skirt, and her eyes are a piercing swirl of blue and green flecks, highlighted with green glitter eye shadow. She has a strikingly expressive face and no visible tattoos, and her hair is not dyed. In fact, she doesn't look like a "typical" SuicideGirl (the majority have at least one tattoo or piercing), but you get the feeling she would totally kick your ass if she had to.

Missy, SuicideGirl's 26-year-old cofounder, walks in. A bookish-looking girl with a smattering of freckles, a septum ring, and black cat-eye glasses, Missy (she and Sean are adamant about not divulging their last names because of the kinds of stalkers and con men attracted to the sex business) has just returned from a press tour for the burlesque show in San Francisco and for an upcoming SG photography book due out in April. Missy circles Nixion, who sits on the floor, the bright photo lamp making her look like she's the subject of an interrogation. The house has become eerily quiet, so Nixion lets out a beefy Whhaarff to lighten up the mood. Watching her flawless 18-year-old skin glow red under a photo lamp while posing for a punk porn site, you have to wonder if her parents are back home wringing their hands.

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Audra Schroeder
Contact: Audra Schroeder