by Seka
A lot of it had to do with sex being such a taboo subject when I grew up. I was never part of a family that discussed it. The only thing I heard about it was “NO!” That’s not very informative. But at the store, I saw guys — and a few girls — who liked how it felt and did something about it. They weren’t bad people. They didn’t hurt anybody. I liked that.
He handed Ken the directions to the shoot and said, “They’re ready when you are.” It was about three or four blocks down the street. I was kind of shocked, though, when we walked into the building. I was born and raised in a small town, so to me, Baltimore was a big, glamorous city. But I thought this place was kind of run down and dirty. It was an apartment. We knocked on the door and my “co-star” answered. I don’t remember his name or even what he looked like. I think it was because I just didn’t care. All I remember is he was around my age and skinny as hell.
I was told this was the person I’d be working with. There was a bed with a flowered pattern that was God-awful 1970’s yellow. Seeing this dump, and having viewed so many loops back in the store, I could just hear that horrible porn music in my head — they all had the same bad music.
This wasn’t exactly going to be glamorous.
The guy working the camera was the whole ball of wax: director, cameraman, and lighting guy. Not that there was a whole lot of direction. And there was certainly no dialogue. He said, “You don’t have to worry about talking or learning any lines. It’s not that kind of movie.” No shit.
It was a silent film. I was like Gloria Swanson all of a sudden. Oh God, it just brings back memories of Sunset Boulevard. The director spoke in a friendly yet no-bullshit tone. “I know this is the first time you’re doing a movie, but we’re here for the fucking.” He had already done three films that day and had more to shoot after mine.
My co-star seemed friendly enough and was pleasant. One thing I did notice was he was freshly showered. He had also shot one or two films previously that day.
The director told me the first position. The guy was going to perform oral sex on me. Since he didn’t know my name, he wasn’t trying to be rude, but kept referring to me as “You.” I said, “My name is Dottie.”
He said, “Raise your leg. It may not feel good, but people need to see it.” It was similar to the magazine shoot, with the photographer directing me.
I felt excited. I was enjoying the sex, believe it or not. The guy was clean, decent-looking, nice to me, and good at what he was doing. What was there not to like? Maybe it was because it was so taboo. Things that are forbidden are usually exciting.
There were several standard positions we had to do. I didn’t know that at the time, but I was learning fast. Missionary. Girl on top. Doggie style. Oral. And you had to have all four of those in the loop or you didn’t have a complete film. It was basically understood you had to have four positions in each sex scene.
Ken had totally left my head, but then I happened to glance over and he seemed to be extremely excited. For a second, I wondered if he would suddenly bolt in and deck the guy, but instead, he was really into watching me have sex with someone else. I didn’t know what to make of that or how it made me feel. I turned back to look at the person I was working with because that’s what I was being paid to do.
The guy ejaculated on my face. I wasn’t real excited about that part, even though I had seen it before on loops and had been told beforehand what to expect. It never bothered me to watch it, but since this was the first time it happened to me — ever — it kind of flipped me out. Actually, I thought it was pretty disgusting.
Afterwards, there was small talk between me and my co-star. “Nice to meet you. Nice to work with you. Hope to see you again.” Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. No different than if I’d just worked a shift at McDonald’s with a new fry cook.
I looked at the director and said, “Do you mind if I take a shower?” He gave me some clean towels. I took my shower all the while thinking, “Not bad. Four hundred bucks for an hour and a half. And I got laid. Got laid, got paid. Win-win.” It didn’t bother me, even with the cumshot.
Maybe it was because Ken was so into it. It also didn’t hurt that the director and the actor were cool and treated me nicely. There was no one around to put a damper on things. If some church lady burst in and screamed, “Heathen!” I might have felt differently, but that wasn’t the case.
We had no plans to remain in Baltimore, but we stayed later than we’d expected because of the shoot. I was ravenous after ninety minutes of steady sex, so we got a hotel room, went out to eat, and then went back to the room.
Ken was all over me like white on rice. He was hornier than hell. I thought, “This is fabulous. He’s so into me sexually.” But as we were having sex, he started talking dirty to me.
“Did you like that guy having his cock in your face? Did you like him fucking you from behind?”
I never had anyone talk dirty to me before. Since it was a silent loop, even the porn actor didn’t do that. Ken kind of freaked me out. I’d had sex with a total stranger that day, while being filmed by another total stranger, while being watched by Ken, yet it was Ken talking dirty to me that made me uncomfortable. I’d been able to compartmentalize the sex on camera, but expected more from the guy I took to bed in private.
I lost my virginity to Frank. Ken was my next lover. The third man I had sex with was a total stranger and it was on camera. Each time, it had been my own sober decision. I was good with that.
16. The Morning After
I didn’t expect porn to be a long-term career move. Let’s just say I’d crossed it off my bucket list. I thought it could be a way of making money if I ever left Ken again, but since I wasn’t exactly racing out the door from him for any reason right then, I figured it was just a one shot and done deal.
I thought the movie might be popular for a few weeks and that was it, because there were always new movies coming out. I didn’t give it that much thought at all. It wasn’t even a full-length movie like Deep Throat or something like that. It was just a loop — it lasted about twenty minutes or so. Low budget, no plot, no dialogue, two actors, one set. Dime a dozen.
Ken called the store and there was trouble brewing again with the police department — the same old deal with the bondage and fetish films. We had to get back because none of the employees knew what to do since the cops were threatening to arrest them. The part-time help got scared and even locked up three of the stores.
Meanwhile, the 8mm film I shot had to be edited, packaged, mass-produced, sent out to distributors, and then to the stores. I knew it was going to be on the market, but it would take at least two months or more to actually be released. Unbeknownst to me, the distributors from California who owned the rights to the film got the footage and had it developed. They were flipping out and calling the warehouse in Baltimore asking who the blonde girl was. They wanted more film. The Baltimore dude was calling Ken, who was speaking on my behalf without my knowledge.
Things began to get a little strange with Ken. He started talking dirtier to me in bed and asking me what my fantasies were. It never occurred to me to have fantasies back then. Sexually, I was very conventional. Even what I did in the movie was pretty straightforward and not a lot different than what most couples did in their bedrooms every night. No ponies, clowns, or Shriners.
Seeing the bookstores were a sinking ship, Ken suddenly asked me, “How do you feel about moving to California?”
“Fine, I’ve never been to California before.”
It sounded exciting so we just up and moved. He had a partner I didn’t know about and I believe he sold the stores to him. We packed up our belongings, put them in a U-Haul truck, and traveled across country.
When we arrived in California, there were free newspapers all over the place in those stands on the street. They have those ads you always see for nude modeling. Ken picked up one of them and said, “Oh, look. How do you feel about checking it out?”
I’d already checked it out, in Veg
as, so there was nothing new about this suggestion. I knew I could do it. It was more a question of how badly did we need the money and was I again in the mood.
He kept pressing. “I think you can make a big name for yourself.”
We followed the ad to an agency headed by Bill Margold, who would one day become one of the major behind-the-scenes movers and shakers in the adult film biz and a member of every adult Hall of Fame ever to exist. I was so excited to see Hollywood and Vine until I saw it was a freak show, a conglomeration of strangeness. There were bizarre-looking street types walking around in the strangest outfits. Stepping into Bill’s small, cluttered, ratty-looking office in an old building on Hollywood Boulevard, I said to myself, “Oh my God. This is supposed to be glamorous Hollywood?!”
Bill had reddish-brown hair and at the time was thin and very pale, which I found extremely odd for someone who lived in Southern California. He wore black horn-rimmed glasses with some sort of Hawaiian print shirt that he still wears today. He wasn’t a particularly neat person, although he was pleasant enough.
After talking to him a few minutes, he said, “Okay, stand up and take your clothes off.”
I said, “Excuse me, why should I?”
“You might as well get used to people telling you to get naked,” he responded.
I thought there could have been a better way to treat a strange lady from out of town than “Okay, get naked.” It wasn’t the request that was shocking, but the presentation. I took my clothes off anyway and he told me to turn around. Bill exclaimed, “Wow, that’s the best body I’ve seen in Hollywood since Monroe!” He immediately said I would be the next big thing in the adult business.
Imagine that.
Informing me he would send me on calls for some still photos, he advised that I shouldn’t get burned out by doing every photo shoot and film that came my way. I had absolutely no idea this was a life-changing moment.
There was one person in particular he wanted to send me to. Bill believed he was “the best in the business.” It was Ron Raffaelli. Ron, in fact, was already a legend, acting as Jimi Hendrix’s personal photographer. He would eventually do tons of rock album covers, erotic art, and have his works displayed in major exhibitions.
Bill picked up the phone and said, “Ron, I have a girl you just have to shoot.” And just like that I was whisked away.
Ron was really strange. He was very tall, thin, and even paler than Bill Margold. I went from one really pale Californian to another and thought, “Is there something I’m missing here?” They all had jailhouse complexions like they hadn’t seen daylight in twenty years.
Ron was very much an egghead. Very intellectual. Smart and sweet, actually. He listened to the same type of music I liked at the time: Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, and the Rolling Stones.
Living in a huge loft with a lot of photo equipment, it was like walking into a photo store. I was extremely impressed with his gear and figured he was really big time.
Showing me a bunch of his work, I loved it and realized he truly was a world-class talent. He told me he would take some test shots I could use in my composite book. I was trying to act all sophisticated, but had no idea what a composite book was. He said, “I like the way you’re dressed.” I had on a pair of chocolate brown silk pants that were slit down the side and tied in a knot around my ankle. It was like a pair of I Dream of Jeanie pants. My silk blouse was cream and beige. I figured this guy is a nude photographer, so I started to take my blouse off.
He said, “No, no…I want to shoot you with your clothes on.”
Now I was really confused.
He wanted mostly head shots and I didn’t know why other than I was going to have this “composite book,” which I was still too embarrassed to ask about. When we were finished, he said he simply wanted to see how comfortable I was in front of a camera. And I was extremely comfortable in front of him. Ron was so easy to work with. When he got a good shot he was very excited and vocal. He gave good directions. “Look over your shoulder.” He knew what he wanted and how to get the best out of a model.
All in all it was a wonderful day and I walked out very excited. Ron made me feel beautiful and I knew he’d create art with his shots. I was thinking, “Dang, this could be a lot of fun. And I get paid to do it.”
I never considered I would be the next big adult star, or even a star at all. Although by now I knew I wasn’t an ugly girl, I was still slow to come around to understanding how men really viewed me. Deep inside, I was still the tall, muscular girl who pulled down rebounds. The “pretty-pretty girls” were still somewhere else across the room. I wasn’t one of them, at least in my own mind. It wasn’t like I needed validation from people like Bill and Ron in order to pump up my self-esteem. I was secure in who I was as a person. I felt if you were clean and took pride in your appearance, even if you weren’t born a genetic beauty you had every reason to hold your head with pride, which I did.
I figured this was still just something to do, a rest stop in life for a week, a month, a year maybe. I could make a decent living until Ken found something else to do. But I had no idea he had already technically become my manager.
17. Seka Is Born
Ron was very pleased with the shoot and called me back wanting to do more for him. But now it was for pay. And the pay was real good.
He did a lot of photo shoots for Puritan Magazine, which also had a line of 8mm films, so Ron asked me to do both. I didn’t realize it, but I was in the midst of the beginning of my career.
I was on the set of one of my earliest loops when I was handed a model release to fill out. Hungry and tired, I was anxious to get out of there and was zipping through it until I read the letters “AKA.”
“What’s this?”
“What name do you want to be known as?”
I knew in this business using my real name was out of the question. I thought for a few seconds. For some odd reason, I flashed back to when I had briefly moved to Vegas with Frank. Frank loved his gambling and was always “looking for work” but never managed to find any. Making matters even worse, he asked me to tell people I was his sister, because the big shots wouldn’t find you as attractive and hire you at the hotels and casinos if they thought you were attached. I truly believed he wanted me to support him.
We were living in a one-room apartment near the Sands. It was back when the Sands was really the Sands. The person who owned our apartment complex was a casino pit boss. He took a fancy to me because I was young, pretty, blonde, and all that good stuff. He had a live-in girlfriend who became a friend of mine. Either Swedish or Yugoslavian, she was a stunningly beautiful girl with natural platinum blonde hair, big blue eyes, a great body, and a wonderful personality to match. She was all that and a bag of chips with salsa on the side. The landlord tried getting the three of us into a ménage a trois, which made me flip out because I hadn’t done a movie yet and my real sex life was completely conventional. The idea of having sex with a girl or three people was just too much for me at the time. The vibe I got was he only cared about her looks and used her to lure people into his web.
Her name was Seka.
Being exposed to someone like her was so exotic; she made a great impression on me. I was a barefoot hick at the time. It was probably the first time I even met a girl born in another country.
The vision of this girl with the exotic name stuck in my head. As I sat on the set trying to think up a catchy stage name, for some reason I blurted out, “Seka.”
The guy asked innocently enough, “How do you spell it?”
“S-E-K-A. It’s short, simple, it’s a four letter word, and considering the business I’m in, I think that’s appropriate.”
He just looked at me. “No last name?”
“No. Just Seka. Like I said, four letters and nothing more.”
I watched him jot it down and I immediately knew I had something. I don’t remember if I knew anyone else at the time using just a one-word name. Cher might have just started moving i
n that direction at the time; I don’t recall. Madonna was still wearing a training bra. Ironically, the gestation period was about nine months from the time I met my inspiration to when I made my first movie.
I had given birth to “Seka.”
And to this day I wonder whatever happened to my beautiful muse.
18. The Platinum Princess
I began life as a brunette and then went to the local beauty salon as a teenager with the intention of getting some frosting — highlights — and they pulled too much hair through the holes in the plastic net they place on your head and ended up as a total blonde. It was an accident, but because of it I won my high school beauty pageant and based on that decided to keep the same look. It was a sandy, beach girl kind of blonde — not very unique, but it looked nice and I adjusted to a life of people referring to me as “the blonde girl,” which took some getting used to.
Sometimes cash was tight or I simply didn’t make time to go to a salon to keep up with the natural darkening of my hair, so I’d buy a bottle of dye off the nearest grocery store shelf and do it myself in the sink. No big deal.
Once I began doing photo shoots as well as movies, I figured I should make sure the “carpet matched the drapes,” as they say. I’d put some of the dye on my pubic region so I wouldn’t have blond hair up top and a dark brown bush below. I’d seen enough of that on the loops I saw back in Ken’s store and I thought it looked ridiculous.
While I was down there, I would give myself a nice bikini trim. Some of the photo work required me to be in bikini bottoms and I didn’t want some big panty afro sticking out and looking gross. This was all part of how I felt about the material I sold in the store. There is a right way and a wrong way to do everything, and if you’re going to do erotica, make it sexy, make it nice. Look good.