How to Make Love Like a Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale

by Jameson, Jenna

  With Jill Kelly.

  Eventually, we compromised, and he came along as a suitcase chaperone. Our first show was at the O’Farrell Theater, which was the worst place possible to have taken him. The club had no rules: Girls were stuffing themselves with dildos onstage and, in the back rooms, grinding guys silly. The audience was so jaded that our show fell flat. It was too tame and softcore for them. But not for Jordan.

  When I returned to the dressing room, he noticed that there was lipstick on my G-string. Evidently, Jill had inadvertently brushed her lips against it. As soon as he saw it, his face turned red, the veins in his neck bulged, and he screamed and put his fist through the door with a splintering thud.

  “You fucking whore,” he screamed. “How could you? Pack your things and we’re going. You are done with dancing. Do you hear me? Done!”

  I looked at Jill, and her jaw was set. She didn’t say a word. But her eyes communicated everything: How could I let a guy treat me like this?

  But Jordan was right: I was done. Done with him. Once again, I’d allowed a guy to control me and, in the process, lost my entire sense of self. I looked into the future, and imagined what life would be like if I chose to stay with him. I saw myself in that little house in Miami, with kids running around and a potbellied husband in a dirty wifebeater demanding more French onion dip for his Ruffles. And I realized that I was throwing my career away for a guy who gave me absolutely nothing in exchange—emotionally, physically, or financially.

  When we returned to Miami, I told him I had to go to a Video Software Dealers Association trade show in Las Vegas—alone. Even though the convention was still a month away, I had to get out of there. I had no plans of ever returning. I left for the airport a few hours early, so that I could stop by a tattoo parlor. I wanted to cover up his name with flowers, not unlike a cemetery plot, though I kept the words “crazy girl.” They definitely still fit.

  Even though Jordan couldn’t handle my lifestyle, he had somehow become addicted to it. For some reason that I will never know or understand, a few months after we broke up, he started working for Jill Kelly, which was a surprise, considering what she’d seen. She hired him to watch her house for her, and then later to be her roadie. He ended up dating one of her contract girls—even though she was married. He’s still dating—and managing—girls in the industry to this day.

  Homeless again, I returned to the one place I knew best: Nikki’s couch. But our circumstances had changed: for once, she needed me more than I needed her.

  Nikki had moved into Lyle’s house in Irvine. It was my first time seeing Lyle since we both started in the industry. I could barely recognize him. He was wearing a dirty white T-shirt with a stretched-out collar that had holes in it. His jeans hung loosely around his waist, held up by a belt of rope. The veins in his neck permanently bulged, and his gentle eyes now seemed angry at the world. Once, he’d driven me everywhere; now I no longer trusted him behind the wheel. He was paranoid, temperamental, and addicted to everything from crack to steroids.

  Five years of hard living had erased the Lyle I once knew. I may have felt lost at times, but never for that long. It was like seeing an alternate reality: If I hadn’t gotten my partying out of the way when I lived with Jack, perhaps I would have made all the mistakes he seemed to have made. Lyle’s self-esteem was shattered, and he took his own failures and inadequacies out on everyone around him. To be in this industry, you need to have strong grounding—because you are questioned by everyone, even yourself, on a daily basis. And if you fall into the trap and start hating who you are, then you are going to start taking it out on yourself and everyone around you. So, in short, Lyle had become one mean son of a bitch.

  Day after day, I watched that son of a bitch take Nikki’s money, accuse her of cheating on him, and fly off the handle for no reason whatsoever. It got to the point where Nikki had to hide her jewelry so he wouldn’t steal it. I’d never seen anyone go through such abuse in my life.

  One night, while I was on the couch, I heard him yelling at Nikki as she cried. Then I heard a loud crack, like an ice-hardened snowball hitting the side of a building. I went to check on Nikki and saw them in the bathroom. She was crouching in the corner and he was hovering over her menacingly, his elbows pumping back and forth. I felt my chest tighten and I was seized by the horrible impotent panic that I used to feel with Jack. I wasn’t about to let the same thing happen to the girl I loved.

  I ran into the bathroom and tackled him. I wasn’t operating with logic. I didn’t care whether he hit me or not, but he didn’t. I had been like a sister to him. And somewhere in the back of his scrambled mind, he must have remembered that.

  The next morning, he was gone. Six days passed and he still didn’t return. That was when Avis Rent-A-Car called. Lyle had apparently rented a Pontiac Grand Am under Nikki’s name and sold it.

  “Oh my God,” Nikki said when she hung up. “What am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to pack your shit right now,” I said, “and you’re not going to let that psycho know where you’re going.”

  “I can’t, Jenna,” she cried. “I can’t just leave.”

  “I will get an apartment with you,” I told her. “I need somewhere to live anyway.”

  Suddenly, with those words, I had clarity. I knew exactly what I wanted. “Let’s go back to the way we used to be,” I gushed. “We can start our lives all over again, just you and me. And this time we can make all the right choices. And we can make them together. No guys.”

  We were so scared Lyle would come home, we packed that apartment in a day. If he caught her leaving him, I have no doubt that he would have killed her and I would have been helpless to stop him.

  As we drove to Hollywood, I kept thinking about the old Lyle. It was largely through his kindness and selflessness that I had been able to get ahead. The Lyle I had known didn’t seem capable of treating a woman like he did Nikki. I swore I’d never trust a man again. I should have just listened to the message the world kept sending me: Men are for money, taking care of things, and sex, to be enjoyed only with a leaden shield around your heart.

  Nikki and I found a two-bedroom apartment with a loft, which I claimed as my own. But I never slept up there. I crawled into bed with Nikki every night, and we’d talk until we fell asleep in each other’s arms. We were best friends again. We never had sex, though: our relationship had evolved beyond that.

  Without Jordan or Lyle, we entered a new phase in our lives. Nikki had been bulimic when she was younger, so she took Prozac to keep herself stable. But it wasn’t enough. So she started medicating herself with vodka—which she’d drink straight—and a little bit of Vicodin. We found a doctor who gave us giant bottles filled with five hundred of those evil white pills. Because it was a prescribed medication, it didn’t seem wrong—like meth or crack. And I had enjoyed the drug when I took it after my breast reduction, so I started swallowing a pill on special occasions. Then I started drinking vodka every now and then. And that’s when the unhealthy living started again.

  I had always thought that it was men who were bad for me. But the problem with guys, ultimately, was always one of control—who had it and how they chose to use it. All that was nothing compared to the trouble that Nikki and I got in to. With her, there was a control problem of a different magnitude—we were out of control. I slid back, day by day, to the Jenna of the Vegas days. But I had confidence now. Half the male population of the country was jacking off to me, and I was laughing all the way to the bank. I wasn’t going to take shit from anyone and neither was Nikki. So we let everyone we came across know it. And in return they gave us the nickname we deserved: Hell on high heels.

  Oink.”

  It was just a small sound, nothing really. It wasn’t even that loud, or really that close to the noise an actual pig makes. But, as I walked through the Rio All-Suite Hotel and Casino, it ricocheted through my Vicodin-numbed mind like a BB in an empty water tank. I had heard it in passing only, as I walked i
n front of that distant cousin of a pig, a reporter. And I knew exactly what it meant.

  I still hadn’t slimmed all the way back down since leaving Jordan. And I was so insecure about my looks that I put myself on an instant crash diet after that barnyard jab. All I ate each day was plain lettuce and one Power Bar. Men can be so cruel.

  I was at the Rio for the VSDA, a video-industry convention, and the next day, Playboy had its annual Wet and Wild party at a water park nearby. With me at the bikini-fest were Nikki and Jill Kelly. In the distance, somewhere amidst the tangle of pressed flesh, I saw a familiar face. He was well-built, with a strong jaw and blond hair down to his butt. It was the asshole who used to run Sterling Studio. And he was looking fine.

  Jenna

  Jay

  The first time I saw Jay was when I started filming Wicked movies at Sterling Studio. Right away, I thought, “Oh my God, that guy is cute. But what a dick.” He was bossy, irritating, arrogant, and didn’t seem to give a shit about anyone but himself. He walked around like he owned the place, which of course he did.

  Other than that, Jay didn’t make much of an impression. I remember him pinching my ass and winking at me one afternoon while I was getting a massage in the makeup room. I thought it was kind of obnoxious. That was the only time we interacted. When I came on set, I tried to run the show and he’d look at me scornfully. I don’t think he liked control freaks, but it didn’t matter because he didn’t have to deal with me.

  The first time I saw Jenna was when she started filming Wicked movies at my studio. Right away, I thought, “Oh my God, that girl is cute. But what a total brat.” She walked around like she was all this and all that, and I thought, “Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.” She was the kind of girl you just wanted to put in her place.

  I actually thought about being a priest when I was a kid. But when I was thirteen or fourteen something went wrong.

  I came into the industry in 1982 as an investor, because a friend was shooting a porn movie. I wanted to learn about filmmaking, so I started working for him on the crew as a video tech. Soon after, Russ Hampshire gave me a job managing a studio he had purchased. When Russ left the business, I took over the studio.

  He had enough on his hands as it was, because he was going out with Chasey Lain, the original Wicked girl, and she was drama. One day, I saw her outside the studio in her car, screaming at the top of her lungs for him. He ran out, and she was bashing her head against the steering wheel. Blood was pouring down her face. He kept saying, “Honey, what’s the matter with you? You have to relax. I’m at work.”

  I remember actually feeling sorry for him for a change.

  Any guy who saw Jenna back then flipped out. She had that spark. But she was dating a director in the industry named Rod. When he was with us, he was one of the guys. But when he was on set with her, he was so emasculated. All he said to her was, “Yes, whatever you want.” I thought, “Holy shit, have some fucking balls.” So that was my first impression of Jenna.

  We didn’t hit it off very well.

  When I spotted him at the Wet and Wild party, it was like seeing him for the first time. I asked Jill if Jay was single now, and, fearless chick that she is, she took it upon herself to tell Jay that I was interested.

  From a distance, I saw an expression that looked like anger flash across his face. Then he made a bee-line for me, put me in a headlock, and dragged me to the gate of the water park. I thought he was going to kidnap me.

  I wriggled loose and told him to call me in the hotel room I was sharing with Nikki. He phoned me late that night and invited me to his room. I agreed, but as soon as I hung up, I chickened out. He had a reputation for being very sexually rough with women. So I blew him off.

  When I saw him the next day at the convention, I walked up to him and said, “Sorry about last night. I fell asleep.”

  When I spotted her at the Wet and Wild party, it was like seeing her for the first time. She looked amazing. We had both grown up a lot since we first met, and I’d retired from the business and moved back to Arizona with my family.

  I was at the party with T.T. Boy and some friends from Vivid. I’d known Jill Kelly since before she was in the industry, and she came up to me and said, “Jenna thinks you’re cute.”

  So the next time I walked by her, I said, “Well, are you ready to go?”

  She looked at me blankly, so I grabbed her and threw her over my shoulder. I was just joking around, trying to scare her. Then I put her down and gave her my number.

  She called me at three-thirty in the morning while I was lying in bed. I invited her over, but she never showed up. She blew me off.

  It was, of course, a total lie. He was pissed off, so I invited him to come to a party I was having that night as my date. He stood me up.

  After the party, around 3 A.M., he came up to me at the hotel bar and told me I’d gotten what I deserved. We were even now. We had an early breakfast together and went back to his room to watch TV.

  I’ve been alive long enough to know that we weren’t really going to watch TV, and I was extremely scared of him because of his reputation. I sat on the corner of his bed, totally uncomfortable, as we watched Species, which was funny because I’d just auditioned for Species 2.

  When I saw her the next day, I said, “You’re fucked.” She said something catty back. So I was about to move on when she invited me to a party for Wicked she was hosting that night. I told her I’d be there, but I knew as soon as I accepted that I wasn’t going to go.

  I saw her the next day at the Venetian casino, and she tried to be all nonchalant. I was sitting with a group of people, and Jenna and I didn’t want anyone to know there was this spark between us, so we arranged to meet next to a certain slot machine in five minutes and go to breakfast together. She got up first, then I excused myself to get a drink.

  As soon as we were finally alone, we walked ten steps and ran into a Japanese reporter. Of course he asked if we were an item, but I told him I was going to direct one of her movies.

  Then he grabbed me, threw me onto my back, and kissed me.

  Jay knew how to kiss: the secret is to keep your lips soft but still apply pressure with the musculature of your mouth around it. It was perfect. From then on, there was no stopping. He ravished every inch of my body. Just like when I had first met him, he was bossy. He bit me everywhere, from my neck to the insides of my thighs, and ordered me around, which I don’t normally like. But he made it work, because he did it for my pleasure, not his. He would tease me, and then back off and make me beg. When we finally fucked, he put his dick in for just three or four strokes and then pulled it out. He wrestled and teased me for four hours, until we both fell asleep. The amazing thing is that he didn’t come once. The guy had incredible self-control.

  The restaurant was empty, but just to be safe we sat in a booth in the back. Talking to her was so different than I had expected: she was cool, intelligent, articulate, and funny.

  Suddenly, I looked up and Joy King and the entire Wicked crew were being seated at the table in front of us. We sunk in our seats, and then decided to escape to my room.

  Usually at that hour of the morning, there are only stragglers left in the casino. But everyone in the adult industry was still up. We zigzagged to the elevator, but every ten feet we’d run into someone. David Schlesinger from Vivid was playing craps and asked what we were doing. I told him I was walking Jenna up to her room.

  “I thought she was staying at the Rio,” he said.

  The next afternoon, he joined me for the walk of shame back to my hotel. No one seemed to believe that we’d just been at a meeting. We must have given off that we-just-fucked-like-animals-all-night vibe.

  He had to drive back to Phoenix that day. I didn’t want him to go, which was a strange reaction for me to have. Usually I can’t wait to get rid of a guy I’ve just slept with.

  “Um, she changed hotels,” I told him.

  By the time we made it up to my room, everyone in the industry knew
we were dating except us.

  The next morning, I hopped in my car because I had to go to a birthday party.

  I remember seeing her heart-breaker tattoo just before I left and laughing. I said, “That’s funny. You’re about ready to get broke.”

  With Jay.

  After the convention, I stayed in Vegas to dance at Crazy Girls. I hadn’t heard from Jay since he’d left for Arizona, which was very frustrating. In the meantime, Nikki had disappeared. She had gone to the Wicked party and never come home.

  Between Jay, my newfound eating disorder, Nikki’s disappearance, and the Vicodin, I was thrashed. I had started out just taking half a pill, but tolerance levels for the painkiller rise as fast as addiction to it does. There were girls I knew who were taking nearly one hundred pills a day. Nikki and I called them .357 magnums, because they had a 357 printed on them and felt like a gunshot to the stomach.

  On the last night of my engagement at Crazy Girls, I popped two Vicodin as I was changing into my costume. Just before I went onstage, one of the girls said that Tommy Lee from Mötley Crüe was in the audience. He had flown in from Los Angeles just to meet me.

  After the show, I took three more pills. On the elevator up to the after-party, my head began to spin. I felt like I was transparent, and could walk through doors and windows. Small chunks of time began to disappear from my memory soon after they occurred. I made a mental note to myself: Don’t take so many Vicodin again.

  When I arrived at the suite, I saw Tommy sitting on the couch, grinning like a tattoo-covered monkey. I was so high that I just flopped down in his lap. He began to talk to me, but I had no idea what he was saying. I just watched his lips flap. He was kind of sexy, in a simian way, though I still preferred Nikki Sixx.