A World of Possibility

by ASMSG Authors

The Unedited Interview with Brenford Stevens

  Delfini Mesa Pelagos Magazine

  September 6, 2011

  By Reyna Pathos

  When I told my boss I was ready to take on different types of assignments, I didn’t think he’d send me on one like this:

  I walk up to the front door of Brenford Stevens…Adult Entertainer, in other words, a male pornstar. I’ve never met anyone in the business, and I never really watched porn. I did, however, watch a couple of short films, some starring Brenford, so I could get a better understanding of what I was getting into and boy, did my ears burn red. But enough about me.

  I am a little excited and a little scared to meet what’s behind door number one. I knock on the door-it’s an old fashioned-knocker-and then HE opens the door.

  Standing before me was a beautiful, gorgeous man. Tall, he must have been about 6’3”. His dark hair was cut in a fauxhawk and he had the greenest eyes I have ever seen. Wearing a white t-shirt and low-slung loose-fitting jeans, he greets me with a cheery “hello”.

  I reach out my hand, “Hi, Mr. Stevens, I’m Reyna with Delfini Magazine. You agreed to a two hour interview?”

  “Sure, call me Bren. Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” The décor was very modern. Everywhere was black and silver…a guy’s place.

  “Take your shoes off and have a seat.”

  He points to a black leather loveseat. It’s summer so I didn’t wear any hose with my plain blue skirt and my white blouse.

  Thank God I got a pedicure.

  “So tell me, Reyna, what do you know about the business?”

  “Not much, that’s why I’m here, to tell our readers all about it.”

  He settles back in his leather recliner. “Ok, well, sit back relax and ask away. Don’t be afraid to ask me anything.”

  His chair was right in front of me, so I scoot back and keep my knees carefully closed. Remain professional, Reyna!

  “That’s your idea of relaxing?”

  I nod yes, and he shakes his head.

  Pulling out my recorder and note pad, I clear my throat. “Well, Mr. Stev…er-uhm Bren, why this type of work? How did you get started?”

  “A friend of mine in college turned me onto it. She had been asking me to talk to a director she knew during our last year but I refused, cause I wanted to complete my courses. Once I graduated, I spoke with the producer about the business, they hired me and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

  “How long is that?”

  “I started at twenty-two. I’m thirty-three now, so I’ve been fucking on screen for eleven year’s now.” He peers at me closely. “Does that offend you? Me saying “fucking”?”

  Good grief, is my collar all of a sudden feeling tight? I pinch myself not to reach up and try to loosen it. I clear my throat again, “Uhm no, that word doesn’t offend me.”

  “Good, cause there’s gonna be a lot more.”

  “So…eleven years, huh? How long does one last in this business?” Ok, why did I say that? I try to clarify, “I mean, how long does a man keep going…I mean…”

  He stops my blundering, thank goodness, by holding up his hand. He chuckles, “I know what you mean. Here, let’s do this, seems to me you’re a bit nervous and you don’t have to be. Just think of me as your buddy from way back and we’re just sitting here chatting. How’s that?”

  Buddy? Some of the weight lifts off my shoulders as I nod in agreement. “Ok, back to my question. How many years do men keep making films?”

  “Well you can last, no pun intended, as long as you want. Keep a good rapport with management, stay healthy and keep your body in shape. No drugs, no outside soliciting and always continue to provide entertainment for your fans.”

  He places his bare feet on the shag silver carpet and leans in closer to me. “I forgot to tell you the main reason why I do this, I…love…women.”

  The soft puff of his breath, which is minty fresh by the way, blows wisps of my hair backward. My brain keeps telling me to back up against the couch but my body isn’t listening.

  “Uh…”

  Listen to you, not professional at all. Get a grip, Reyna!

  “I guess that’s a good thing, loving women and all. Now to my next question, what does POV mean?”

  He sits back with a knowing grin on his face. Knowing what, I don’t know and I am not about to ask that question.

  “It means point of view.”

  I wait a beat to see if he would give any further details. He doesn’t.

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “Yea, I can be more specific, in fact I’ll show you, that’ll be specific enough.”

  “Oh please, tha-that’s okay, you can just tell me. I’m sure I can imagine how it would go.”

  “No, no, I insist. You do want a detailed interview that shows as well as tells how we do things, right?”

  I nod my head. Seems my tongue has gone on vacation as I look into his gorgeous eyes. The way I am feeling, I would agree to anything he wanted.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you that will make you uncomfortable.”

  He winks.

  That isn’t very comforting to me, because I want him to do something…Stop it, Reyna! You are here to work, not get fresh with the person you’re supposed to be interviewing.

  “Now my dear, move your pretty self over to the middle of the loveseat.”

  I set down my recorder on the side table and put my notebook in my lap, then slowly move over until I am in the middle of the couch.

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t be alarmed, I’m going to get down on my knees in front of you.” He kneels but forgets to mention that he’s going to put his hands on my knees as well.

  “Now…from your eye’s view, do you see my location?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer him. “Follow me with your eyes as I lower my head.” His hands gently push my legs slightly apart as I continue to watch his lips move closer to my bare skin.

  “At the angle you’re looking at me, so does the camera.” His warm breath seems to have a mind of its own. It’s like following a path under my skirt to my private parts.

  I’m going to get so fired for this!

  His lips were so close, if I tapped him on the head, they would touch the inside of my bare thigh. He raises his head slightly and looks at me with a glow in his eyes. “Write that down.”

  I snap out of my trance and snatch up the steno pad writing furiously. What am I writing? I really couldn’t tell you. It looks more like chicken scratch than any legible penmanship.

  “Got it.” I shake my head slightly to clear some of the fog that seems to be surrounding my brain. I have to do something to break this craziness up. “What about STD’s? Is that something that’s a major concern?”

  He smiles but doesn’t get the hint to back off. “Everyone in the industry is required to get tested every twenty-eight days. And, every female I work with is vetted and their medical records are verified, and confirmed negative before any sex. The same goes for me, I’m tested every month. After the results come back and everything’s all good, I go back to work.”

  Bren sits up and is really, really close, and all I can do is sit there and breathe in his light cologne.

  I put my notepad in between our faces, and I pretend to write something. “This is a personal kind of question. You are intimate with a lot of different women and I noticed during my research…”

  “Research? You’ve studied me?”

  I ignore his question. “During my research, the women you’re with are very relaxed. When I compared your films to others, some of them didn’t seem to enjoy it. How long do you know these girls before you have sex with them?”

  His hands are still there. “I don’t know half of them, what I do before we are given our scripts-there’s not a lot of dialog you know-I like to take them over to a quiet corner and talk.”

  Those hands begin to move, making a circle pattern on my knees.
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br />   Do I stop it?

  No I do not.

  Even knowing that my job and career as a journalist is in jeopardy, with his hands on my legs and his piercing green eyes captivating me, I don’t care. I literally don’t care.

  I watch those hands lightly caress my knees. I look up and catch him watching me-watch him. After a couple of tense seconds of silence, he gives me a grin so wide it lights up all of his features.

  I guess it’s because I didn’t protest and tell him to get off me.

  He leans further into me, this time his pelvis touches me. “Write that down.”

  “Oh…oh right.”

  Clearing my throat yet again, I say, “What do you say to the ladies to get them comfortable?”

  He is still close and for some reason he takes a deep breath before answering. He breathes deep, holds it then exhales with a sigh.

  “I talk about…them, ask what do they like, do they like it soft in the beginning or do they like to take it hard. I have enough sway with the directors I work with, so I can push the direction of what type of sex we’re going to have. If she’s not into the rough stuff then I don’t push it. But, that’s usually not the case. You sort of know what you’re getting into before you get there, that’s what auditions are for.”

  “That’s it? You just talk to them?”

  “No, there’s more to it than that.” He moves a couple of inches back. Much to my…relief?

  “I’m a touchy-feely guy if you didn’t know that already.” In my head I’m saying, Yea, I get that.

  “So when I’m talking to them, I get them used to my touch. Pretty much like I’m doing with you. Did you notice that my hand is under your skirt?”

  Startled, I look down and yes indeed his hand is under my skirt. The tips of his fingers barely an inch from the edge of my panties.

  What the hell!

  I take an indrawn breath to tell him what for, but he places a finger gently against my mouth before I can utter a sound.

  “Now Reyna, don’t be upset. I only did this because you were so nervous. If you hadn’t relaxed, it would have been more awkward for both you and me. I must confess it is a great pleasure touching you because you are very attractive and your skin is very nice and you smell wonderful.”

  Did I just feel a tweak in my panty region? I will definitely be doing my own editing of this interview before anyone at work see’s it.

  “Uhm…thank you, I think?”

  Ok Reyna, you need to get control back over this interview!

  “Ahem. Bren, let’s get back to the interview shall we?” I look at my notes to see what topic I can ask him next.

  My boss had me write down a few words that had no meaning to me other than the standard definition.

  “Let’s see here, what does Gonzo mean?”

  Bren chuckles while standing up, he turns and goes into another room. I let out the air I am holding in my chest, glad that this close encounter is over.

  He walks back into the living room with a small camcorder.

  Oh shit!

  I watch with trepidation and a little anticipation as to what he is going to do with it.

  He hands the camera to me.

  Relieved he didn’t turn the lens towards me, I ask, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  He kneels down in front of me again.

  Oh boy!

  “Set the camera on your right shoulder and point the lens down towards my head.”

  I…reluctantly follow his instructions?

  “Now pull the screen out and adjust it where you can see me through it.”

  As I flip open the screen, the camcorder turns on and there he is, live and in color kneeling between my legs.

  Oh my! When did he open my legs wider?

  “Now Reyna, push the zoom and get a tighter shot of my face.”

  I follow his head lowering with the camera. He turns his head to the side so I can see his profile.

  “Can you see where my lips are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Zoom in closer so all you can see is my mouth.”

  I do and the next thing I see is a long tongue protruding from that mouth to wetly lick the inner part of my knee.

  “Oh!”

  “Keep watching through the lens, Reyna.” His voice is suddenly very deep and very rumbly.

  I don’t question or protest, just do as he tells me. I keep my eye on the screen and follow as his mouth pushes my skirt up out of the way. I can feel his hands helping that mouth along but can’t see them.

  He stops only to direct me to lift my butt.

  Not a word of protest from me.

  I see something white fly by. Guess those were my panties, but I don’t care. I can feel my skirt gather on my waist and I’m half-lying down. I still don’t care.

  Being turned on and curious makes you do dumb things.

  Bren seems to know where the camera is pointing at all times. He always keeps his mouth in clear view of the camera lens.

  “Keep it focused, Reyna.”

  Yes, focused on the inside of my thighs, his mouth and that tongue.

  After this, I’m sure I can get a job writing obituaries or something, right?

  My body has been manipulated without me even knowing it, my left leg is lifted high and sitting on his shoulder, and my right has been pushed over so I’m spread wide for whatever he wants to do to me.

  Glad you went in for that wax, huh Reyna?

  I keep the camera focused on his mouth.

  It hovers over me for about a minute. I pull back the lens just enough to focus on more of his face and I can see him take in deep breaths as he inhales my fragrance.

  Thank you, thank you, Mom, for instilling in me to make sure I always keep that part of me straight!

  After a beat, that long tongue snakes its way out of his mouth to show me what gonzo really stands for.

  This interview has been shot to hell and a hand basket and as a professional, I crossed the line.

  Do I regret it?

  Hell No!

  THE END

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