by Oriana Small
One night, Tyler and I were hanging out at home doing coke instead of eating dinner, the usual. Coke was our dinner. It was laundry night, so we got an extra gram to stay focused. We thought having after-coke coke was the same as having coffee after a meal, only stronger. Ernesto had drinks and did lines with us while we washed our clothes. By 2:30 in the morning, it was just Tyler and I with a huge pile of clean, unfolded clothes in the middle of the floor. We never folded. There weren’t enough drugs in the world to get us to fold. Out of nowhere, Tyler started pacing the apartment. He was totally jacked up and wanted to smoke inside. I wouldn’t let him. He grabbed his chest, took a deep breath and held it for a second. When he let it out loudly, he put his fingers around his left wrist to check his pulse. His eyes darted all around the apartment. His mind was racing and he didn’t hold long enough to properly count the beats. He didn’t need to. It was too fast to count.
“Tyler, what are you doing?” I asked, very sweetly. I was concerned, but I didn’t want to sound alarmed. He was freaking me out.
“My heart’s just banging. I think there’s something wrong.” He barely made eye contact with me as he walked to the porch to have a cigarette.
“Maybe you shouldn’t smoke right now. Cigarettes are a stimulant. Have some water or go get in the shower. A cold shower will snap you out of this,” I optimistically suggested.
Tyler just took another loud, deep breath and felt his bare chest again. He had this look in his eyes that happens only when he’s done way too much coke. It’s a crazy, paranoid expression that shuts him off from anyone else. He goes into his own fucked-up world and acts like a complete asshole in the real one. Every time Tyler had gone psycho on me with jealousy and yelled at me, accusing me of being “against him,” he had this exact look about him. Telescopic fish-eyes.
“Are you okay? Is there something I can do for you?” I was scared now.
He looked at me with fear and hate. Like I was a bitch for asking him if he was okay. “No. Ori. I’m not ‘okay.’ Do I look ‘okay’ to you? My heart is going way too fast. I have chest pains. I took a Viagra a little while ago, and I feel bad, really bad.”
“What did you take a Viagra for? It’s so late.” I couldn’t hide how stupid I thought it was.
Tyler yelled at me, “Because I wanted to be crazy, Ori! I don’t know, maybe I wanted to fuck! Or do you only want to fuck on camera, for money? Is that it?”
“What? No, Tyler. That’s not true,” I said in a small voice. It always hurt my feelings when he said things like this. I wasn’t really sure what I liked more, sex at home or sex in the movies. Tyler always knew where to hit me when I was feeling vulnerable. Only hookers like it more in the pornos, I thought. If I like getting paid for sex more, it means I am just a prostitute. Being called a hooker is way worse than being a porn star.
“Ori. I feel really, really bad. Call 911!”
“No. I can’t. You’re all right. You’re just freaking out.”
“ORI! Call fucking 911! I’m having a fucking heart attack!” He screamed at me, his eyes bulging out in terror.
“No! You’re fine, Tyler. You’re just too hot. Look, I’ll get a cold washcloth to put on your neck. Just take some deep breaths and calm down!”
“Fuck it! I’ll call myself if you won’t do it. This is serious! I’m having a fucking heart attack and you don’t even fucking care!” He flopped down on the bed and picked up the phone with the free hand not clutching his chest. “I can’t believe you’re making me call my own ambulance, Ori. You won’t even do this for me. You don’t love me at all! I could die, Ori! You don’t fucking love me, do you?”
I loved him more than I loved anyone else in the world. I was fucked up, too, and scared that he was going to get us in deep trouble. You never call the police when you’re on drugs. They will arrest you. Didn’t he know that? Was his heart attack as real as our paranoia? “Tyler, please don’t call! Please! We’ll get in trouble. We are so fucked up!” I begged him not to call.
He dialed 911.
I ran downstairs and pounded on Ernesto’s door. The only person I had to help me was the dealer. He grabbed Tyler by the arm, “Look, man, you gotta listen to me. Don’t smoke right now. Don’t drink any alcohol. You need some water. I’ve seen this happen a lot of times. You’re not having a heart attack. You gotta chill out, man. You don’t need an ambulance, man. Relax.” Ernesto was a lot better at this than I was. He wasn’t screaming at Tyler or sobbing, calling him “baby.” But all of Ernesto’s pragmatic drug wisdom bounced off of Tyler’s fixed gaze. It was no use. His mind was set on heart attack.
The sirens came blaring down the street and an ambulance and fire engine stopped outside of the gate. Red and white lights flashed in the night sky. I held on to Tyler’s arm as we walked down the steps and out the gate, as if we were leaving one altar for another, ill-omened one. He was my man. I had to stand by him, no matter how stupid he was being.
“Who called?” The fireman boomed in a loud, clear voice. He was the first sober person we’d seen in ten hours.
“I did. It was me. But it was a mistake,” Tyler backed down. He did look a lot better. His crazy-eye disappeared. He was now standing in front of the emergency medical technicians, very humbled.
“You called about a heart attack?” the fireman asked. He knew the story. Young, fit men don’t have heart attacks unless it’s because of drugs.
“Yeah, I was feeling chest pain, but it’s starting to feel better. I think I’m okay now.” Tyler was calming, crashing, doing his best to look innocent.
“Have you been taking any drugs tonight?” fireman number two asked.
“We took some ecstasy that someone gave us at a party. I don’t know what was in them. We never do this. We thought we’d try it just once. It was stupid. We’re more mature than that. They’re wearing off now. I’m okay.”
Tyler seemed quite fine all of the sudden and talked us out of having to get in the ambulance. It was as if Ferris Bueller were the star of an ABC Afterschool Special. He pulled it off, but it had a sobering effect on both of us. Back in our apartment, we were again alone. All was calm, and we were safe. I began picking through the clothes pile, looking for some pajamas.
“Where’s the coke? What did you do with the rest that was on this plate?” Tyler asked.
I was shocked that he wanted to do more after everything that’d happened. “I’m sorry, Tyler, I got scared and flushed it in the toilet when you called 911. I didn’t know what to do. I thought we would get in trouble. I’m sorry,” I cried.
“You did what? You flushed it? How could you do that? Oh fuck, Ori! That was so much, and you just flushed it! I really could use some right now. I just need a few lines to go to sleep and unwind. You flushed it!” He just needed a few lines to go to sleep.
“I’m sorry Tyler,” I sobbed. I was exhausted. I couldn’t argue anymore.
“Will you go down and get some more from Ernesto? Please?” He was serious.
“No! It’s too late. You don’t need anymore! Let’s just get it tomorrow,” I pleaded.
“You’re the one who threw it all in the toilet without asking me! You should go get more. Don’t you love me?”
Of course I loved him. So, down, down, down to Ernesto’s I went.
Chapter Thirteen
Choked Out
TECHNICALLY, I did ask for it. When Pro Trusion had asked me if he could choke me, I told him he could. I liked it when Tyler and Mark Davis had done it to me during sex. It was erotic. My experience with it had been good, so far. I was very trusting to let men do what they thought was best. I never wanted to say no. I thought that saying no meant that I was holding myself back from something new. Experience was very important to me. I got off, emotionally, on being persuaded. “No” was not a very strong word in my vocabulary.
Tyler and I were asked to do another shoot for Pro Trusion. It was to be a very rough blowjob scene with some slapping. Both Tyler and Trusion would be choking and s
lapping me. This information was provided up front. I thought I knew what I was committing myself to. I thought it was safe because Tyler would be there with me.
It was a gorgeous day. Tyler and I casually strolled up to the door of the condo. The building was nice and new, on a peaceful street in Tarzana. We’d been there before, when Tyler was hired to get a blowjob from some girl named Gemstone. I tagged along to watch his performance. He throat fucked this chick and she threw up In-N-Out burger all over his dick. It was disgusting. I could smell it. She refused to clean it up, so I stepped in. I wiped the grey, lumpy mess off of Tyler’s cock and lap. Then I got him hard, sucking his vomit-coated penis until he was solid enough to stick it in Gemstone again.
Voltron met us at the door. He led us upstairs to the master bedroom. The entire condo was almost empty. It looked like nobody had ever even lived in it. A couch, desk, and a lamp were the only items of furniture. The place was large, three stories and three bedrooms. Pro Trusion bragged about how he owned it and had built the entire complex. We just shrugged and told him that it was great. It was not a great place, but it was spacious. We climbed the steps to the top floor and entered the room where the scene was going to be shot. There were some lights set up, and a bed. Pro Trusion sat in a chair. He was cheerful. He talked nonstop as soon as we entered the room. He went on and on about how excited he was to choke me. I was finally going to know how it’s really done, the right way. I just smiled and went along. Whatever they wanted to do, I was game.
The camera was rolling and Pro began with his preliminary questions. He was so vile. Looking at him made me shudder. His teeth were brown, his breath like rancid garbage. He was smart enough to intimidate me, but I didn’t think he was better than me. I didn’t look up to him or admire him the way I did Tyler or Mark Davis. Pro Trusion was just an old, gross pervert. Any submissiveness I felt was merely a game. I really didn’t think I had any reason to fear Pro.
He leaned in close to my face and looked into my eyes. It was like he was trying to use his eyes to stomp all over mine. Then he pinched my nose and held my mouth shut, suffocating me. He twisted my nose, hard, and I started to cry. He released me.
“It’s just the nose that made you cry, right?” he said, and he put his hands around my throat. His mouth was watering. “So if I go like this, this isn’t going to make you cry, is it? This is scary, isn’t it? Is it scary?”
“Yes…”
Not another ounce of air went into my lungs before Pro Trusion clenched my throat. He squeezed with both of his big hands, tightly. One hand was in front and one behind, cutting air off completely. He stood up as he choked me. Pro stared into my gaze. It was obvious that I wasn’t expecting this, and I was terrified. It’s what he wanted. His grip was so hard that his teeth were clenching. When his mouth parted, a smile formed. He was sneering at me. Darkness and murder filled his eyes. He was strong, and he had me. I couldn’t protest. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t ready. Pro was hurting me. I was naked and this man was strangling me.
“We’re proud of you, okay? Alright, you’re a good girl. So now your nose is not being hurt, so you’re not going to cry, are you? Huh? Don’t move your hands! Put your hands behind your back!” His grip went even tighter.
Tyler just watched. Voltron filmed. I thought I was just going to give Tyler and Pro blowjobs. It was too late to stop it. I couldn’t do anything while Pro’s hands wrung my neck. My legs went numb. The rest of my body felt a wave of warmth, but it was not a good warmth. I had no oxygen and was beyond dizzy. Big white and black spots appeared. I could no longer see, yet my eyes were still open. I was fighting to keep my eyes open—for fear that they would not reopen. I lost control of my muscles. My tongue started flopping in and out of my mouth.
I need help, I thought. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t form the words to call for Tyler, who still sat and watched me. Everything went limp. My arms dropped from where they were trying to pry Pro’s hands away. My eyes fluttered in one final attempt to live. My face went crimson and I passed out, gurgling. Then, I died.
I saw it. I saw that tunnel with the light at the end. There is definitive credence to the lore. I was alone in a dark place, but it was peaceful. When I looked into the light, I not only saw my entire life, but I felt it, too, passing through me like a specter. No specifics, but each primary emotion I had ever lived through I felt all at once in that light. All I can remember explicitly are visions from childhood. Then, I died a horrible death. At the end of it, I felt safety in the tunnel. It was real.
As suddenly as it all went black, I found myself back in the room, on the bed. My eyes opened. This isn’t Heaven. I was looking at the white ceiling. I was lying on my back, on the bed in Tarzana. Tyler was there, staring at me, and a camera was rolling. I sucked in some air and let out a sob. Deep sobs kept coming from the bottom of my lungs, hyperventilation. How long had I been passed out? I was disoriented, scared and crying. Pro Trusion looked at me with self-satisfaction. I had broken down, finally, in front of this man. All he wanted was to see me cower in fear of him.
“That’s what you get for not going on a date with me.”
Nobody acted like it was a big deal. Pro Trusion was smiling. Tyler was eager to finish the blowjob scene. I was hysterical. Voltron kept at the camera.
Pro said, “Well, when I was younger I used to ask girls like you out on dates all the time and they would say ‘no,’ so now I’m forced to do this. You understand what I’m saying? You sure? I’m dead serious. You’re very lucky I’m not in the scene. We could do that for three hours.”
Tyler put his hands around my throat, saying, “I know you can do this. I promise I won’t choke you out like he did. I’ve seen you do this before without crying.”
After Tyler’s failed attempt to slap me around and shove his cock in my throat, Pro cancelled the scene. I couldn’t stop crying, so we had to stop. I felt like I was the problem. It was embarrassing. I was the only one who was upset. Was I crazy or fucked up? I was so confused after letting a man I trusted professionally try to choke me to death. Why couldn’t I stop crying while they all acted like the day was perfectly fine?
To make himself into the big hero for the day, Pro Trusion paid Tyler and me a couple hundred dollars for a “kill fee.” It was almost a real kill fee. Pro almost killed me. And I let him. So did Tyler. We took the money, gladly, and went to sushi with this man afterward. I was a shell of a person the whole rest of that day, cracking skin of the locust. I was still in shock, traumatized.
I tried to forget any of it had happened. I didn’t want to let it stop me from doing porno scenes. I still wanted to be in porn, so I kept partying and performing in all the movies I could. I even did more scenes for Pro Trusion with Tyler. I acted like the choking didn’t bother me because I didn’t want to show any of them how much this horrible man had scared me. I would just roll my eyes and laugh about it.
The footage of me getting choked ended up on Pro’s website. His knuckles are red around my neck. Many people saw it. It was so brutal that I got phone calls from producers that I didn’t even know asking if I was okay. When I saw the video, it upset me all over again. It was an embarrassing first impression to present to people that didn’t know me. I was still relatively new to the business and already crying and getting choked on the internet. It was so disturbing that Pro himself even took it off the site soon after it was made public. Nothing about it was sexual except that I was naked. It just looked like I was being attacked. The sole purpose of Pro’s actions was to hurt and scare me. It’s what he always and ultimately had in store for any porno girl that he hired for a scene. Pro Trusion is a sick person—I wouldn’t even call him a sadist because that would sexualize him too much. I was green and vulnerable enough to allow myself into the situation. Though scared and shocked, I did not get fully angry about it until a year and a half later. Tyler and I even rented the very same condo in which I was choked to death. We lived there for a year and slept in the bedroom where it h
appened.
I stay away from creeps now. It took me a few years to finally shake Pro Trusion. I thought it would prove how much I’d grown as a person if I could be friendly with this man. I even asked him to be my date to an awards show. It didn’t prove a thing. Only that I am capable of being wrong and naïve and savagely hopeful over and over. Instead of making me the bigger person, befriending Pro afterward only served to legitimize and glorify his actions.
I thought that I needed to “get over it.” So I did. Like a lot of traumatic events that happen in life, it just had to be put aside. People close to me, like Tyler, continued to act like it wasn’t a big deal. I was fine, and that’s all that mattered. It was even funny to some people, because it didn’t happen to them. It happened to me. I was choked to death. Then I woke up.
Chapter Fourteen
Anal Fisting
IT was a little before eight in the morning. Tyler and I left Hollywood for Tujunga. We were working for a new director. He was hiring us together as a couple. The director’s name was Roach. It was stressed by Roach not to be late. Maybe he had heard about our legendary tardiness. We always showed up to porno shoots at least a half hour late. Sometimes Tyler and I were hours late. Other times, we didn’t show up at all. Love and cocaine were the biggest things in our lives. Porno came third and suffered because of the first two.