Interview With a Porn Star

by Jason Luke

  Connie straightened her back and I noticed her breasts move under the silk of her blouse. “What happens when you work with a woman that doesn’t turn you on? Does that happen?”

  “Sometimes,” I conceded. “Not very often these days, because I have the luxury of being able to pick and choose which actresses I work with, but when I was performing in other people’s films there were times when the actress and I were not compatible. That makes the work difficult.”

  “You mean the girls you were paired with weren’t pretty or sexy enough for you?”

  “No – porn is full of sexy women,” I said. “I’m talking about chemistry. Sometimes it’s just not there.”

  “So what do you do? How do you keep… stay…”

  “Hard?”

  “Yes.”

  “I fuck a fantasy,” I said simply. “I play out my private fantasy in my mind throughout the scene. Instead of relying on the actress to arouse me through the sexual connection, it all happens in my imagination.”

  Connie looked suddenly intrigued. She paused for a moment, and her expression became sly.

  “Tell me your fantasy.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s private,” I said.

  She persisted. “I think a lot of readers would like to know what really turns Rick Cassidy on…”

  I smiled, thinly. “Then tell me yours.”

  Connie flinched and the smile on her face twisted. “I don’t have a sexual fantasy.”

  I stared at her, my eyebrows raised, my face full of mockery. “Really?”

  “Really,” she said. Her eyes flicked away. There was something unsettled in her expression that she masked quickly. “I suppose you like blondes.”

  “No,” I countered. “I like beautiful sexy women. I don’t care about the color of their hair, or the size of their breasts. I like a lady who is confident and open about her sexuality.”

  “Young?”

  “Confident and open about their sexuality,” I said again. “Fucking a teenage nymphomaniac might be every middle-aged man’s fantasy, but when you’ve had as many teen girls as I have over the years, the attraction loses its allure. Age doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Then why not fill your films with older women? If it’s all about sexuality rather than age and appearance…” her voice rose an octave and became a challenge.

  “Because on film I fuck the kind of girls that my audience wishes they could fuck,” I explained calmly. “That’s what sells my films. But their fantasy is not necessarily mine…”

  “And your fantasy is…” Connie tried again.

  “A secret,” I said firmly. The smile slipped from my lips. I glanced at the big clock. It was getting late. Outside, night had fallen – the sky was black through the big glass windows.

  “Then tell me where you draw the line?” Connie asked. “Where does artistic taste cross over to become something tawdry and crude?”

  “That’s a question that doesn’t have a definitive answer,” I said. “My idea of art and tasteful sex on film is something totally different to producers like John Bellamy, for instance. There are many sexual fetishes that I would never capture on film, because they don’t appeal to my audience, or to my personal beliefs. They cross my line.”

  “So you do have a line?”

  “Of course,” I became incensed. “But my line clearly is very different to your line. And your line is very different to those film makers within the porn industry who feel nothing should be off limits.”

  “So should there be censorship?”

  “Censorship by who?” I shot back. “You would censor everything beyond a chaste kiss. Some people in Washington would agree with you. Then you have the other extreme, people who insist on their right to free expression, regardless of what they wish to express.” I shook my head heavily. “The audience is – and should always be – the only arbitrator of what pornography is acceptable. People vote with their money every day. They purchase the products they want, and they buy from the brands they trust. Pornography – when you boil it down to its essence – is just another product in a world-wide market. If consumers want to buy extreme porn, then it is there and available for them,” I pointed a finger into the air. “But at the moment ‘mainstream porn’ dominates the industry.”

  “Mainstream porn? You mean the kind of porn that you make?”

  “Yes.”

  Connie shifted in her chair with agitation. It had been a long day. My throat was raw from talking. Connie wiggled around again and stifled a weary yawn.

  “Would you like to come to dinner with me?” I asked suddenly.

  Connie blinked. “I… I can’t…” she said.

  I looked disbelieving. I slapped my hand over my heart, and gave her one of those sincere expressions that politicians use to get themselves elected. “I promise, it will only be dinner.”

  She shook her head, started stuffing her notebook into her bag. “No, really. I can’t,” she said again. “I have other plans.”

  “Can’t they be postponed?”

  “No.” she said emphatically. “Maybe tomorrow night, if the invitation still stands,” she offered to placate me.

  I gave in. “Okay,” I said. “Tomorrow night. It’s a date.”

  Connie got to her feet, drew her fingers down her skirt to smooth it and pressed at her hair. She gave me a chill little smile. “It’s not a date,” she said. “It’s a dinner. That’s all.”

  Chapter 16.

  When Connie arrived the next morning the house was unnaturally quiet. She came through the front door with a wary look of uncertain suspicion.

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Change of shift,” I smiled. “All the girls and my two actors have gone. They left last night. Roland and Victor flew back to Europe, and the four girls have driven north to San Francisco. They have been booked for a couple of weeks of adult entertaining at one of the clubs.”

  Connie looked quizzical. “Adult entertaining? You want to tell me what that really means?”

  “Stripping,” I said. “They’ve got a gig pole dancing and doing some escort work for wealthy clients.”

  Connie didn’t look shocked. Two days ago she would have been outraged.

  “And your film crew? Your makeup lady?”

  I jerked my head with a gesture towards the big glass doors. “They are all out by the pool relaxing,” I said. “Lily is swimming laps.”

  Connie’s expression changed to one of intrigue. “That young girl stayed here last night, Rick?”

  I nodded matter-of-factly. “Bellamy is in hospital,” I said, not knowing if I should be sad about that. “He asked if I could keep an eye on her for a couple of days until I fly east.”

  Connie folded her arms. She shifted her weight onto one leg so that her hip thrust out and her eyes became cold little things. “I bet you didn’t just keep an eye on her…”

  I made my eyes wide and artless. I raised an eyebrow. “You sound jealous?”

  She laughed, but the sound was hollow. “I’m not,” she said.

  I could’ve told Connie that Lily slept in one of the spare rooms. I could have told her that Lily passed out drunk before midnight and I had to carry her to bed. I could have told her that nothing happened between us… but I didn’t. I just smiled a slow lazy enigmatic smile and sprinkled doubt over her.

  I changed the subject. “I have two local actresses due to arrive at any moment,” I said. “We’re filming two more scenes today to wrap up content for a new DVD.”

  Connie frowned just a little. “Are you doing both scenes yourself?”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “The guys couldn’t stay in town for another day, and there are no other male actors here in the States that I would trust the scene to.”

  Connie’s face went through a range of expressions as new questions came to her and she silently resolved them.

  She said nothing.

  She drifted across the living
room, slipped the strap of her handbag off her shoulder and left it on the sofa. She stood in the middle of the floor for a long moment and then turned around to face me – and in those brief few moments her expression had changed, like she had shrugged off her annoyance. She smiled at me brightly. “So when does filming start?”

  “As soon as the two girls arrive.”

  “Have you worked with either of these girls before?”

  “I shot two scenes with Becky going back a few years,” I said. “Both those scenes were in another director’s film and I haven’t had the chance to work with her since. Yvette?” I paused and smiled, “Yvette is relatively new to the industry. I think she only started a year or two ago. Victor did a scene with her in another film for another producer about six months ago.”

  Connie was curious. “Does she come recommended?”

  I smiled. “She comes loudly,” I grinned.

  Connie actually smiled.

  “Do you want me here today? Can I stay for the filming again?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “Tomorrow is my last day in L.A., and I know you need to get your article finished… and we have a dinner date for tonight, remember?”

  The smile on her lips became something a little more natural. “How could I forget?”

  I felt like there was more she was about to say. Her lips changed shape to form the words, but there was a sudden knock at the front door and whatever she was about to say was forgotten as Becky and Yvette appeared in all their spectacular Californian glory in the doorway. The two girls looked like they had come straight off the beach. They were both tanned golden brown. Becky was the tallest. She had long sun-bleached hair, and the most amazing sparkling blue eyes. Her figure was athletic – she had small breasts and a lithe, slender figure. She had the longest legs I had ever seen on a woman. She was wearing a t-shirt and cut off denim shorts, her feet thrust into open sandals. She came into my arms with a friendly smile of recognition and her body melted against mine as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “Ricky. I’m so excited about today. It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long,” I smiled warmly into her eyes. She kissed me lingeringly on the lips and then stepped back and turned to introduce Yvette. “I don’t think you two have met yet.”

  Yvette was an inch shorter than Becky. But her figure was shaped more in the classic mold of a porn actress. Her breasts were large, her waist tiny. She had short brown hair. She stepped across the threshold and lifted herself onto tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cassidy,” her smile was genuine and friendly.

  “Nice to meet you, Yvette,” my eyes roamed over her body, lingering on her breasts for a second or two. “And call me Rick.”

  Yvette held up a handbag. “I brought this with me,” she said.

  “A costume change?” I asked curiously.

  She was wearing hip-hugging denim jeans and a thin strip of fabric, the width of a bandage that did little more than cover the hard jut of her nipples.

  “Honey, you won’t need a costume change,” I smiled wolfishly. “This is a porn film. Everyone is going to want to see your beautiful body naked.”

  Yvette’s eyes grew wide and she giggled. “I didn’t bring any costumes. These are just vibrators and dildos,” she explained. “You told Becky on the phone that you wanted a lot of lesbian action, yeah?”

  I nodded and then smiled. “I like a girl who comes prepared.”

  “I hope you like a girl who comes loudly,” she laughed.

  “That,” I said with a sly grin, “is a very definite bonus.”

  I introduced the actresses to Connie and then the girls arranged themselves attentively on the sofa.

  I stood before them and they looked up at me as though expecting some grand speech. I didn’t have one. All I had was the idea for the scene we were about to shoot that morning. So I laid it out for them.

  “We’re going to shoot the first scene in the main bedroom,” I said, massaging my temple between thumb and fingertips, visualizing the scene as I explained it. “We’re going to do one shot filmed from inside the bedroom that will show you two girls outside the window. I want you to be peaking through the glass, and you’ll be looking at me. I will be laying on the bed naked and pretending to be asleep. You girls will point and make some sexy faces and then disappear out of shot as if you are going to come inside. Make sense?”

  Becky and Yvette nodded.

  “Then we will shoot the rest of the action in one long take in the bedroom. There will be a couple of cameras, and I have moved the furniture to position a long red leather sofa under the window. I want you girls to come into the bedroom, spend a few moments silently admiring me,” I explained, “and then I will wake up.”

  “And then what?” Becky asked.

  “I want you two girls to make out on the sofa,” I said. “Pretend you are putting on a sexy show for me. I will come awake, see you girls kissing and fingering each other, and I’ll slowly start to stroke my cock.” I pointed a finger at the girls to stress the next point. “Play out the lesbian shots,” I said. “Take your time. Enjoy each other’s bodies. When it appears as though I can’t possibly take any more of this sexy, erotic teasing, I will come over to the sofa and then we’ll just shoot a standard threesome.”

  I stood there, wondering if there was anything else I needed to say. Yvette and Becky were nodding their understanding, and I trusted them both enough to know what to do when the cameras started rolling.

  I turned suddenly to Connie. “Would you like to be involved in this scene?”

  Connie went white. I think she swallowed her tongue. She did a kind of epileptic flapping with her arms like she was trying to take flight. “No! Are you crazy?” There was a high note of alarm in her voice – a voice that I thought would seldom sound alarmed. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a way that made me feel like I was solely responsible for a sudden drop in room temperature.

  I shook my head and held up my hands to placate her like I was expecting her to lunge at me. “Take it easy,” I appeased. “I don’t expect you to perform, Connie. I don’t want you to join in the sex scene… but I have a spare camera, and I was wondering whether – since you’re going to be watching the scene anyhow – if you would mind filming through a crack in the closet door.”

  Connie’s arms fell to her side without her ever levitating off the sofa. She slumped back, the air sucked from her lungs. “You want me to film?” she asked slowly.

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” I said. “I just had this idea of some secret voyeur footage that I could edit into the finished film. If Walter gets a shot of the closet door being open, and a viewer gets a sense that a mysterious person is watching the sex scene play out, it might add a new dimension to the scene. Then, if I add any footage you shoot, it all becomes more real.”

  Connie turned her head from side to side like she was looking for the nearest exit. “What about your makeup lady? What about Lily? Surely she could do it?”

  I shook my head. “Jilian will need to be on standby in case we cut and the girls need their makeup touched,” I said. “And Lily has only just started in the industry. She’s an actress… and besides, I couldn’t trust her to stay in the closet once the sex starts. The kid is just as likely to throw herself into the scene.”

  “I don’t know anything about cameras or filming,” Connie flustered, flailing about for excuses like she was drowning.

  “It’s easy,” I waved away her protest with a flick of my hand. “All you have to do is point and hold the camera steady. Walter will have everything set up for you – nothing more to do.”

  Becky and Yvette turned their faces to Connie. Their expressions were eager and bubbling with enthusiasm. “That would be so cool,” Becky enthused.

  Connie held out for a few more seconds, but the pressure proved overwhelming. She surrendered with a sigh. “Okay,” she said softly and then her voice rose again as she stared
directly into my eyes. “But I make no promises. I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to use a single second of what I film.”

  My triumphant smile spread slowly and warmly across my lips like a tropical sunrise. “Understood,” I said.

  I led the actresses outside into the bright morning sunlight and introduced them to my cameramen. Jilian clucked and cooed about with her paints and powders while I took Connie into the bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

  “Thanks,” I said with sincerity. “I know I put you in a spot out there. I appreciate your help.”

  Connie’s lips were thin and pale. “Just remember that I make no promises,” she warned without any anger in her voice and waggled one of her fingers at me. “Don’t blame me if this turns into a fiasco.”

  I shook my head. “It won’t,” I assured her. “You can’t do any damage to the camera, and even if you film sixty minutes of footage with your thumb over the lens, it won’t be an issue. All I’m looking for is a little bonus footage. My guys will capture everything essential.”

  I went to the closet and pulled the doors wide open. “There’s plenty of space for you to stand,” I said with the sort of encouraging voice and cheerful smile that a real estate agent uses when showing a home to a prospective purchaser. “And you don’t have to do anything special. We are not filming a new Indiana Jones movie. All you have to do is try to hold the camera steady and keep it on the girls.”

  “Really? Just the girls?” Connie questioned. What about you?”

  “You will be filming across the bed,” I explained. “If the camera is on the girls then I will automatically be in the foreground of all your shots, and once the threesome starts, I will be where the girls are.”