by Blue Blake
I sat up quickly. He could be a lying bastard but perhaps it was true.
“OK, dinner,” I acquiesced.
“Excellent, I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m. sharp. We’ll go to Cicada on Melrose. Its owned by a friend of mine, Stephanie Taupin.”
Stephanie was married to Bernie Taupin who was Elton John’s writing partner. He wrote all the lyrics for Elton’s music. Cicada was the place to see and be seen. Years later when Stephanie divorced Bernie the place was bought by Robert De Niro, who renamed it Ago.
Harold arrived outside my apartment at 7 p.m. sharp just as he’d said. I loved people who were punctual. He sat outside patiently in a black Range Rover. Greg spied Harold through the window.
“I don’t know Blue, he seems kind of old.”
“Greg, I’m sick of dating porn stars and straight bodybuilders, and I really fancy him.”
“Please yourself,” sulked Greg.
I had a great night with Harold. We got the best table in the house and made out for two hours. We sucked face like teenagers much to the dismay of the straight crowd. After a fabulous night Harold drove me home.
“Can I come in?” Harold asked.
“Not tonight.” I’d decided to proceed with caution.
“Can I see you tomorrow night?”
“I have a shoot all day for my new movie. It’s being directed by a really famous director, Michael Zen.”
“Well, I’ve just opened a new restaurant on Melrose called The Shed. Will you come and celebrate with me there?”
“Sure,” I smiled.
“Then let’s say tomorrow at seven again.”
We kissed and I floated off to bed on a cloud of Harold lust.
As mentioned, Michael Zen is one of the most amazingly talented directors in porn. He is a true genius. Probably in his late fifties, he has a stunningly attractive young wife. I had first met Michael weeks before when he had come to audition me at my apartment for Cockfight for the role of the crazed, sadistic drill sergeant who is driven slowly insane by the denial of his own homosexuality and his lust for a young nubile recruit. Michael was very serious about his auditions and he wanted porn stars who could actually act. The scripts he directed were very intricate and precise and had pages of dialogue.
The script was perfect for me. I got to chew not just the scenery but the carpet and curtains too. I stomped around my apartment and ranted and raved and Michael sat there with his mouth hanging open. When I had finished auditioning, he clapped his hands and shouted, “Bravo . . . you are perfect, you have the role!”
All Worlds paid me five thousand dollars for the film. FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!! It felt like a fortune and probably was in those days. I was also delighted to find out that Rip Stone had been cast in the film and I would be doing a scene with him. Rip Stone, Max Grand, Paul Carrigan, Logan Reed, it was a veritable smorgasbord of macho delight . . . a cornucopia of testosterone.
Set on an army base my character causes the death of one of his recruits because of his unrequited love for him. Bryan Kidd would play the recruit. This was the second time I had worked with Bryan, he had also played the young goat boy in Ramjet. He was short, blond and looked fourteen years old. He must have been a pedophile’s dream. He should have been starring in a film entitled Tasty Tots or Get There Before the Hair, not Cockfight. Bryan’s character died at the end of the movie then comes back as a ghost to drive my character to the brink of insanity. At the end of the movie I howl at the moon completely naked. It was midnight and I was freezing my bollocks off. In a review months later Manshots Magazine compared my performance to Jack Nicholson’s in The Shining. All Worlds definitely got their five grand’s worth. I was rewarded that year with a Best Actor nomination for the role.
After shooting the first scene the next day, I joined Harold and two of his friends at The Shed. The restaurant was already becoming incredibly popular. It was situated on Melrose next door to Cicada and had leather banquettes, handsome brickwork and a roaring fireplace.
I hadn’t had time to change as I was already late, so I strolled in wearing my army fatigue costume.
“Sorry about the outfit,” I apologized, “I’m shooting a movie.”
“Oooh . . . Who is the director?” asked Hugh, one of the guests.
“Michael Zen.”
“Is he similar to Spielberg?”
“Only if Spielberg has you whip your cock out at the drop of a hat,” I joked. I looked over to Harold to make sure I hadn’t overstepped my boundaries, but he just smiled. Hugh’s boyfriend Michael jumped in: “Hugh, Blue is a huge porn star.”
Hugh blushed very sweetly. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
“No big,” I laughed. “Shall we have the potato tacos to start, somebody told me they really are quite delicious and the only thing I’ve had in my mouth all day is Bryan Kidd’s arsehole.” Hugh choked on his Campari and soda. I looked at Harold, who rolled his eyes. I was in love.
After two weeks I still hadn’t slept with Harold. I was in no hurry but Harold was. One evening he came by as if he’d had enough.
“You’re just a prick tease,” he accused.
Well, that was certainly a first.
“Harold, are you drunk?”
“No,” he slurred belligerently as he stepped into the room and almost tripped over the cat.
“Listen, go home and call me in the morning when you’re sober. I’ll get you a cab.”
“I’m not drunk and I’m never calling you again!” Harold shouted, searching the wall for the door. He sailed out the door in a cloud of scotch.
The next morning the phone rang. It was Harold.
“Blue, I’m so ashamed. I . . . .”
“Harold, you don’t need to apologize.”
That night for the first time we made wonderful sweet love and thirteen years later we still are making the same sweet love. Harold is my inspiration, a rare man of wonderful compassion and caring who I would trust with my life. In thirteen years we have argued only a handful of times and I am still astounded by his levels of deep empathy. He is my reward in life.
After two weeks together, Harold wanted me to give up porn. He was traveling to Paris for a month over Christmas and had rented an apartment overlooking the Arc de Triomphe. He asked me to go with him but I was finally about to open in the play Making Porn as Ronnie Larson had promised. I couldn’t let them down.
We had been rehearsing the play in Ronnie’s horrible living room amongst the dog bones and sugary treats that were scattered on the carpets. Gino had persuaded Ronnie and Caryn to put real porn stars in the lead roles and so they had cast a young blond Canadian called J.T. Sloan and myself. I really liked J.T. but he was renowned for not being able to open his mouth without a big old lie dropping out.
“Oh, I make three thousand dollars a scene.” Lie.
“I was just flown on a private jet to Dubai.” Lie.
“I love huge cock.” True.
As Caryn was only paying the rest of the cast five dollars a show they refused to rehearse with me in their spare time, so as the first evening of my performance in the show rolled around, I had never rehearsed my role with any of them. Plus I had never even set foot on the stage. Caryn made me sit in the audience and watch the show every night, but that’s not the same as actually rehearsing onstage with a cast. For the first time in my life I was an absolute nervous wreck. I was as nervous as I was on the set of my first porn film Seeds of Love. I mean I was a Valium popping wreck. Ronnie and Caryn kept telling me my performance was amazing but what the hell did they know. They were hardly my barometer for success.
Harold left for Paris and the next thing I knew it was opening night. As I packed my costumes to leave for the theatre I was overcome by a wave of nausea. There was no way in hell I would be able to set foot on that stage. Was I crazy? What was I thinking? I hadn’t had any proper rehearsal and I would become a joke around Los Angeles. I decided I just wouldn’t do the show. I would lock myself in my apartment and refuse to come out. I picked u
p the phone.
“Caryn,” I said affecting a weak croak, “You won’t believe this, I’ve just come back from the doctor’s and he says I have food poisoning, and it would be absolutely impossible for me to appear onstage tonight, in fact, not just tonight but for the entire run.”
Caryn wailed like a wounded animal. I was scared.
“In fact, he said I might even have rubella and would have to be quarantined!”
“Blue Blake,” she always called me Blue Blake, “Listen to me, you just have stage fright.”
Too bloody right I did. I was petrified. I was going to be onstage in a show I thought I didn’t even know the lines to . . . NAKED!!!
“No, Caryn, I’m incredibly sick . . . I’m convinced I might even have cholera!”
“I’m coming over to get you!” yelled Caryn, slamming the phone down.
I looked around for somewhere to hide before I remembered she couldn’t get into the apartment complex as it was locked up tighter than a nun’s asshole, and the only way she could get in would be for me to buzz her through the security door . . . or if somebody else opened the door for her. Within minutes I turned to see Caryn hammering on my living room window. Some traitor to my cause had given her access.
“BLUE, OPEN THE DOOR! YOU’RE NOT SICK, I JUST SAW YOU MIXING A MARTINI!” she screamed.
I flung the door open.
“I’m not going on that stage, I’ve had no rehearsal!” Doors opened all over the complex, and people stepped out to listen, which for some bizarre reason encouraged me to be horribly dramatic. I fell to my knees.
“Please, please, I’m terrified!” I cried, wrapping my arms around Caryn’s trotters.
“Blue,” Caryn said in a coaxing, soothing voice. “You’re brilliant in the play, you’re one of the best actors I’ve ever seen!”
She was really going overboard on the compliments, and like a fool I sucked it in; her words were syrup poured on the French toast of my ego.
“I’ll stand in the wings, and if there is a moment when you feel you can’t continue we’ll send on your understudy.”
“Do you promise?” I wept.
“Would I lie to the most brilliant actor that has ever appeared in Making Porn?”
Caryn crammed me into her car that was full of dog hair and cigarette butts and whisked me off to the theatre. As soon as I got onstage and the lights went up; my fright dissipated. Just like that, I was off and running. I loved every moment of being back on stage in a play. I remembered all my lines and when the curtain came down to hoots and hollers and wild applause I was elated.
Harold called from Paris and I babbled excitedly about how I had once again been bitten by the theatre bug. I could feel him smiling at the other end of the phone.
Caryn and Ronnie were taking Making Porn to Off Broadway starring Rex Chandler. They didn’t offer me a part in the show as they told me it wasn’t in their budget but even so I was happy for them. I knew the lightweight, campy comedy would be a huge hit in NYC.
Harold returned home and we began seriously dating: dinners every night and lost weekends spent in bed with each other. Months passed when one night I received a call from Caryn.
“Blue, it’s Caryn . . . we need you in the show, can you catch the next flight to New York?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
UPON MY ARRIVAL IN NYC, I learned that Rex Chandler had been a disaster in the show. He fought constantly and bitterly with his fellow actors, particularly the actress Joanna Keylock who was playing his wife. Rex wasn’t a trained actor, and the stress of performing eight shows a week Off Broadway had been more than he could bear. There had been a huge fight amongst everybody, and Rex stormed off. That left Ronnie and Caryn without a porn star in the play and that was their main “hook.”
Of course I jumped at the opportunity . . . OFF BROADWAY . . . was she kidding? I would do it in a heartbeat! I called Gino who told me I could stay in his NYC apartment just off Central Park. I packed a suitcase and bid a tearful farewell to Harold. The play had had a long run in L.A., so who knew how long I’d be in New York? He promised to fly in every other weekend and said he would send me care packages to get me through the NYC winter. It was October and had just starting to get cold on the East Coast.
I arrived in Manhattan feeling like anything was possible. No longer Glenn Marsh from Nottingham selling my blood to pay the bills, now I was Blue Blake from London starring in an Off Broadway show. I pinched myself because none of it seemed real.
Gino’s apartment was a cozy one-bedroom. I settled right in and was met the first night by Vince Lambert, a journalist from the gay magazine Next. He was friends with Ronnie and Caryn and filled me in on all the drama that had occurred with Rex. I listened spellbound as I ate raspberry sorbet. All that eating out with Harold had made me plump and if I was going to be on stage naked I had better be looking sharp. Vince told me that there were rumors that Ryan Idol was also going to join the cast, replacing Rex, so there would be two porn stars in the show, me and Ryan. At the moment there was another actor playing the role but he wasn’t as big a draw as Ryan would be. I had never met Ryan Idol properly but he was a serious superstar. We would sell a ton of seats with his star wattage.
Once again I was afflicted with terrible stage fright due to lack of rehearsal time. I realized this was Ronnie and Caryn’s modus oporandi. They expected you to just climb off the plane and onto the stage and give a brilliant performance. Luckily I had been prepared for this and had been sleeping with my script to remind me of my part.
Even so, I had opening night jitters. We were performing in the West Village at the Actors’ Playhouse. Ronnie was again playing the role of the evil porn director and the show, under his eagle eye, went zipping along full of peppy one-liners and brief nudity. The audience ate it up. We were sold out every performance and the cash came rolling in.
Caryn placed an ad in the New York Times theatre page and they shot me for the poster and for the playbill. I walked home every night after the show to Fifty-seventh Street because it would take me the fifty blocks to decompress, heady from the audience applause. I became enormously close with Joanna, the one girl in the show. I had a total gay boy crush on her. She had blonde hair down to her waist and porcelain skin and reminded me of a mermaid. She was obscenely talented and I worshipped her. Years later she named one of her sons Liam Blue to my absolute delight. After each performance Joanna and I would run out of the stage door and walk arm in arm through the crowd outside the theatre. People would stop us to sign their playbills and tell us how hysterical we had been in the show. We were shallow but loving it. Life was immaculate it seemed.
Then Ryan joined the cast.
Ryan Idol is one of the most spectacular looking people to ever work in the adult industry. He really should have been playing a dashing doctor in General Hospital but he missed his calling and ended up in porn. Ryan had originally been a marine stationed in Hawaii but after a big fight with one of his commanding officers he was thrown out of the service with no way to return to his hometown on the Mainland. Of course that wasn’t going to stop a resourceful guy like him, so before he knew it he was turning tricks and coining it in. This of course led to porn films and in no time he was a mega star.
Thick brown hair, amazing body, great teeth but as mad as a box of frogs, Ryan arrived in NYC looking a little the worse for wear. Since he had partially retired from starring in porn he had hit the bottle hard but he was still a handsome bastard. So despite the fact that he liked his liquor, he still had a great face and girls (and boys) would always swoon around him. My relationship with Ryan was always unusual; we were incredibly ambivalent about each other. He could be as sweet as pie or, if he was drunk, a raging lunatic. What kept his ego in check when he first arrived Off Broadway was that the cast was all trained actors who had been doing the show for a while so he was constantly playing catch up.
My name and image were removed off the playbills and poster and replaced by Ryan’s. I didn’t mi
nd, since he was a much bigger star, and I liked the fact that his name guaranteed we played to sold-out audiences.
Ryan and Caryn became very friendly . . . a match made in hell, if ever there was one. They bonded over their love of cash and, boy was Ryan a cash cow waiting to be milked. He got a percentage of the box office. I was being paid a thousand dollars a week to flaunt my bits on stage nightly, so I was happy with that, and the situation was rosy. Until the night of the big fight.
A few days previously the Gay Erotic Video Award Nominations had been announced. I was nominated as Best Actor for my role in Cockfight and Ryan was nominated for Best Actor for his role in Idol in the Sky. So there we were, doing eight shows a week together and competing for the most prestigious porn award in the world. Something had to give. Starring in a successful Off Broadway show became a disaster waiting to happen when mixed with Ryan’s love of booze.
One night he arrived drunk half an hour before curtain. Ronnie told him he couldn’t perform that night and Ryan grew belligerent and refused to leave the theatre. Knowing that Ryan didn’t have an understudy and he couldn’t perform sloshed; I collected my belongings and began to leave the theatre.
“Look,” said Ronnie, “Blue is leaving, so there definitely will be no shows.”
“Get back on this stage!” Ryan screamed at me, “I’m the fucking star, and what I say goes!”
Man . . . I flew onto the stage like I had a Pershing missile up my arse. Ryan took a swing at me, but I deftly dodged it. I grabbed him and began beating his head against the stage.
“You’re killing each other,” Ronnie shrieked. Meanwhile, the other cast members fled to lock themselves in the dressing rooms. As I shook Ryan by the neck, I suddenly came to my senses, dropped him and rose to my feet. I left the theatre fuming. That night’s two shows were cancelled.
The next night, before the show, Ryan apologized to me. I forgave him for two reasons: [1] I had to do eight shows a week with him and [2] it was Christmas and on New Year’s Eve Ryan and I were booked to make a personal appearance at the Palladium in front of three thousand gay men and their girlfriends to promote the show.