by Ty Jacob
She made it very clear that just hanging out in the apartment all day and watching bad television was not acceptable. She set out rules, gave lessons and assignments for the following day. “First, exercise for one hour, then practice your new dance routines. After that, watch ‘Frisky Summer’ and take note of Brent Cole’s excellent blow job technique. He gets good length. That’s the term in the industry for really going up and down on the dick. Makes it look hotter when you’re just watching. And Brent’s face communicates how much he’s enjoying himself, which is the Golden Rule of porn. Look like you’re having fun. Don’t forget that. Then you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”
She loved Billy most when he needed her, when he would ask her the best way to drive to Silverlake, or where he could go to buy some new clothes. She always helped him with his choreography, and sometimes she’d show up at Exposé and sit in the back, watching as he stripped in front of all the whistling men. She thanked the goddess, the great drag queen in the sky, for giving her this, for bringing Billy into her life, for finally, or at least almost, answering her prayers.
When they were out at a dance club one night, Sasha suggested that he pick up a guy and bring him home, so that she could watch. He found a guy named Greg, dark sideburns and a goatee. Just as the three of them were about to leave the club together, Greg turned to Billy and said loudly, “I don’t want a fat queen watching. Come back to my place alone.”
Sasha thought it was awfully bad manners.
Billy answered plainly. “If Sasha can’t watch, you can’t have me.”
Greg and Billy had sex on Sasha’s bed that night, as Sasha stood in the corner and imagined that she were Greg, who was doing everything to Billy that she wanted to do. At one point she walked over to Billy, as his head was hanging back over the edge of the mattress, his eyes closed, and she touched his hair. He looked up at her, surprised, and gently pushed her hand away. She went back to the corner, pulled up her dress, and jacked off.
After three weeks of work she’d obtained a second silent partner for the film, had secured several locations, and had finalized deals with the last of the technical people she needed. She didn’t have much money, only two thousand dollars in total. She wasn’t entirely sure that it was enough, but she knew she had to get started. One evening after dinner she sat Billy down and opened her copy of the Gay Video Guide. “Choose the talent you want to do scenes with,” she said.
“Just look at all these hot actors.”
“Models, doll. In the business we call the porn actors ‘models.’”
Billy smiled and began pointing at all the pictures of brawny, hairy men. “I want that one, and that one, and that one,” he said, like a child choosing toys.
“Sorry, that one died last year,” she had to explain. “Overdose. Crystal meth and Lord knows what else. I told you that stuff is bad. And that one’s on an exclusive contract with Stallion Studios.”
“What about Luke Champion? My dream is to do a scene with him. Can I?”
“Oh, I’m afraid Luke Champion is too much of an A-list gay superstar for us to be able to afford him. He’d take our entire budget. Besides, we’re nobodies. He’d never stoop so low as to do a scene with us. If we succeed and make it big – if you do really well in this film – you’ll perhaps be able to work with him some day. But now these three, I can talk to them.”
Mike had never heard of them, but they were hot. “You really think I could work with them?”
“Why not? We might not be able to afford them, but we can ask. Doll, I have two rules in life. The first one is, ‘You ain’t gonna get it if you don’t try.’”
“And the second?”
“When all else fails, never underestimate the power of a glue gun.”
“I’ve been thinking of my porn name,” he said. “Why not Billy Studly?”
“Ah, well… No. Sorry. ‘Billy’ needs to be balanced by something strong but romantic. I’ve already decided your last name should be ‘Knight.’ It works. ‘Billy Knight.”
“Yeah,” Billy nodded enthusiastically. “That’s good.”
She dipped her fingertips into the glass of Chardonnay in front of her. “My child, I hereby christen you, Billy Knight, model and porn star extraordinaire.” They laughed together, and Sasha watched as a drop of wine rolled slowly down the smooth, tanned skin of Mike’s forehead.
13. Banging Billy
THEY SHOT THE movie over two weekends, because most of the people involved had other jobs. Sasha’s script was about a young guy who’d just moved to LA from Nebraska. The opening shots were of Billy Knight driving down the San Bernardino Freeway in his blue Chevy Nova, getting out of the car on Santa Monica Boulevard, and walking down the street in a cowboy hat and boots. By the end of the movie he’d traded in the cowboy gear for muscle tees, had been fucked by several guys he’d met in saunas and bars, was abducted and forced to service three men simultaneously in an old warehouse, and was then dumped in front of a gas station where he was helped by a surprisingly attractive mechanic who not only had a big heart, but a dick that matched.
Mike was nervous the morning of each shoot. His stomach felt tight and uncomfortable. Yet as soon as the cameras started rolling and the sex started, his fear fell away.
He couldn’t believe that he was the star – that he was in every scene, was actually being paid, and there was no risk of losing control or being in any real danger. There was a guy who stood on the side and kept giving them condoms and lube. The feeling on the set was jokey and easygoing, like they were all friends. Sasha put everyone at ease, made everybody laugh. Mike loved that all the sex was with guys he’d chosen, rather than the other way around. It seemed impossible that he could in any way be grouped together with those people, who were so handsome, so beautiful. And it felt great to be naked and having sex in front of the other people with clothes on, everybody looking at him – the cameraman, the sound guy, a couple of others. Sasha could only afford to pay him a hundred dollars altogether, which was less than he gave her toward the movie anyway, but he didn’t mind. The other models and the guys in the crew had to be paid too, and anyway Mike wasn’t doing this film for the money. It was for the exposure. He was going to become a star.
He was careful, much more so than he used to be. When he was ready for his cum shot with the mechanic, Sasha said, “Shoot your donut glaze on his face.” Mike acted like he was going to, but at the last minute shifted left, and he shot his load across the guy’s chest instead. What if some accidentally went into the guy’s mouth? And what if he found out on April 21st that he was positive? He would have to tell the guy. He’d be just as guilty as that guy who punched his back and came inside him, just as responsible for filling somebody with all that fear. Mike couldn’t handle that. He wouldn’t take the risk.
After the scene was over, Sasha walked over to him. He was still standing beside the mechanic in front of the tool bench where they’d just had sex. They were filming in the garage of a gas station that Sasha had found through a friend. She looked at Mike sternly and said “Billy?” Then she reached over and thumped the mechanic’s sturdy chest, still covered in Mike’s cum. “Does this look like somebody’s face?”
“Sorry Sasha,” Mike said, and looked away. He hated disappointing her, after she’d done so much for him.
As soon as filming was over, he became impatient. He just couldn’t wait to become a star. Sasha arranged a photo shoot for him with a friend of hers who was a professional photographer. Mike posed on her fake black leather couch. Another friend, a DJ who wanted to become a musician, agreed to do the music for free. He composed thumping techno beats on a synthesizer in his bedroom.
Music and rough footage in hand, Sasha called in sick to work one day and Mike drove her to a basement studio in Long Beach so she could review the footage with an editor named Hanif. She said she could drive herself, in her own car, but Mike insisted. “I want to help,” he said. He liked to drive, and besides, he didn’t want
to stay at home while his future was being made.
At first Mike sat with Sasha and Hanif, thinking the review would be fun, but he soon realized it was dreary and monotonous. He became bored and left, wandering off to hang out at Shoreline Park, where he heard men had sex in the bushes.
Heading back up the San Diego Freeway on the way home, he asked her, “Is the movie done?”
“You can’t rush perfection, doll. In a week I’ll get a rough cut, then I’ll review it again and make suggestions.”
“When will it be on the shelves?”
“I’ve already spoken with several people at small studios about marketing and distribution. A company called Stunning Productions said they might be interested in releasing it, depending on how it turns out.”
Mike felt a pang of worry. “Depending on how it turns out?”
Sasha looked over from the passenger seat. “Oh, don’t you trouble your pretty little head. You are one hell of a sexual performer, Billy Knight. Every time the camera lands on you, you’re on fire. And that heavenly bubble butt of yours looks so good, even straight men will want it. In fact, I’d have to say that your ass is even more photogenic than your face, and that’s saying something.” She leaned over and grabbed his earlobe. “You make your mama so proud!”
He felt good. She liked it.
When the post-production work was finally done, Sasha asked him to get a sign made for her front door. He ran off to the copy shop and asked for a large blue poster with black letters. Then he brought it home and unrolled it on the kitchen table for Sasha to see.
“Oh, it’s perfect!” she said. There, in big, bold letters, were the words ‘Banging Billy: World Premiere.’
The invitation-only party was a huge success, and Sasha’s apartment was packed. She had to be very selective about who she invited, given the size of her place. Ross from the Lucky Pony mixed Martinis in the kitchen. There were two lesser drag queens there, the film crew, the models, and just three or four others she knew. At midnight she put the movie on and everybody crowded around to watch, jockeying for a place to see the TV screen. Even the people who were doing coke in the bathroom came out to watch. Mike sat to the right of Sasha on the couch. Tom, from Stunning Productions, sat on Sasha’s left. He’d already seen the film and had agreed to take on distribution. Mike liked it that all of the tops were sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, and he was up next to Sasha. Everyone else stood behind the couch or along the walls on either side. Ross stood in the kitchen doorway on a chair. Mike noticed that Sasha hadn’t invited her boss from Cougar, or anyone from any of the large studios who hadn’t been interested in letting her direct. “It’s my silent Fuck You,” she told him. He wasn’t totally sure he believed her.
As the movie played that night, Mike noticed that people talked here and there, but every time Billy was in front of the camera, they all kept their eyes on the screen. Sometimes, between the scenes, Sasha interrupted with funny stories about the filming, like when an unexpected shipment arrived at the warehouse just as Billy was down on all fours. Mike knew it wasn’t the best-made film he’d ever seen. Some of it was a little amateurish, he knew. But there was nothing he could do about that. He’d done his part well, and it was just a start, after all. At the end the credits rolled and everybody clapped. Several people, inspired by the film, had already disappeared into Sasha’s bedroom.
For the rest of the evening, people came up to Mike and slapped him on the back, told him he was great. He liked the attention. One guy with a paunch and a fat gold watch put a hand on his shoulder and said, “You look good in a cowboy hat, Billy.” Someone nearby quipped, “He looks better with a dick in his mouth.” Another guy reached out and pinched his ass, and Mike turned with a jump. “That’s the best lookin’ back end I’ve seen in years,” the guy said.
Mike noticed that some of the older guys, ones he hadn’t met before, looked at him differently when the movie was over, as though the film had given them some kind of permission. He pretended not to notice they were staring. There was more power in being watched than in watching. This was his skill. It felt good to command so much attention.
One woman, a friend of Sasha’s who had starred in straight porn for years, came up to him with a camaraderie that surprised him. She had big, curly brown hair and a blouse with large shoulder pads. “You’re great,” she said. “It’s not easy, I know.” She gave him a long, tight hug.
Banging Billy began appearing in adult video shops across the country at the beginning of April. Although Stunning Productions distributed it, Sasha herself did everything she could to make sure people took notice.
She got her friends to go into the LA video shops even before the movie was available and ask for it by name, saying how good they’d heard it was. She made sure the movie was an option for selection in the video booths at Stacked & Hung, and that it was prominently displayed at the front of the store. She told Mike that she’d even called friends who worked at gay magazines and newspapers across the country – Gay Chicago Magazine, Houston’s Lambda News, Atlanta’s Gay Times – to make sure it got good reviews.
The first time Mike walked into a random video shop and saw it on the shelf, he felt something like an electric spark inside. The box cover showed Billy Knight lying on his stomach, naked on a black leather couch, his head turned over his shoulder toward the camera behind him, his butt arching up into the air.
Mike stood back and watched as several guys looked at the box, picking it up to get a better look. The clerk who worked at the shop came up to him and pointed over to the video, saying, “Hey, man. Is that you? That video’s hot. You’re hot.” Then he looked around and gestured to the back room. “You busy?”
Mike smiled a bit flirtatiously, not because he was being propositioned, and not because he found the guy attractive – he was skinny and had horrible teeth – but because sometimes, if there was no real risk of anything happening, that was just what Mike did. There were times, even when simply paying for his groceries, if the check-out girl kept looking up at him as she scanned his milk, his cereal, his apples, when he would offer her a seductive smile just to give her a little thrill, just to see if she would smile back, or blush. He did it partly out of a desire to feel his specific kind of power, but also out of something like an instinct for generosity. He imagined that the check-out girl, or the video store clerk, would go home feeling a little bit sexier, feeling attractive and good, because a young man that day had smiled at them in a particular way.
“Sorry,” Mike said now, sounding genuinely disappointed. “I’d love to, but I’m on my way somewhere.” He smiled again, then nodded and walked away, happy to feel the clerk’s hungry eyes burning holes in the back of his head, happy to turn and catch him still staring as he walked out the door.
Sasha came home that night with good news. She’d been slipping in mentions of Banging Billy while doing her marketing calls for Cougar, and she’d managed to get Billy Knight a profile in the April issue of Rod & Shaft magazine.
When it came out, Mike bought seven copies – even though he didn’t have anyone except Sasha to give them to. The profile was limited to only half a page, toward the back. Mike ripped it out and put it on the refrigerator, under a Marilyn Monroe magnet. It showed the photo of Billy Knight from the box cover. There was only one small paragraph of text and a few headings. Star sign: Taurus. Position: Bottom. Those were all the words he had. Mike felt like there should be more.
“How do I get on the cover of the magazine?” he asked Sasha. “And how do I get a huge interview?”
“We have to make more movies,” she said. “And fast.”
“And when can I do a scene with Luke Champion?”
Sasha smiled. “In time, Billy. In time.”
14. Sick
DALE NEVER MENTIONED to Mike that he was disappointed with Banging Billy. There was nothing wrong with Mike’s performance; it was flawless. Billy Knight was the best thing about the film. The problem, Dale feared,
was with himself.
He knew it wasn’t quite an A-list movie, and he felt a little sad. He had expected so much. It didn’t look as polished as the movies from Cougar, or Magnum Man, or Hard Bodies, or even any of the second-tier professional studios for that matter. The sound, in places, was bad. One of the scenes had atrocious shadows on the wall, and at one point you could just see the edge of the cameraman’s leg in a mirror. He tried hard to listen to Sasha’s voice in his head, which told him that it was okay, that he was an artist in the process of development. It would get better. He was still learning his craft. “Be gentle with yourself,” she said.
On a balmy Friday night toward the middle of April, Dale and Mike got dressed up and went out the door as Sasha and Billy. Sasha wore a black, knee-length dress with a rhinestone necklace and earrings to match, and Billy wore a pair of tight black pants and a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a smooth V of skin trailing down from his neck. They went to the Boom Boom Room together and danced to silly 70s music. One of the bartenders recognized Billy.
“Hey, I saw Banging Billy. Great stuff.”
“Thanks,” Billy said, and gestured to Sasha. “She directed it.”
Sasha gave a strained smile. Had this bartender noticed the shadows on the wall, the leg of the cameraman?
“Wow, that’s cool,” the bartender said. “You’re great. Hey, these drinks are on the house.”
“Thanks, doll. The next film’s going to be even better.” She put her arm around Billy and walked with him to the edge of the dance floor, where they stood sipping their drinks.
Since the film’s release, she’d been trying to figure out exactly how they were going to make the next film, and how she was going to make it better. She needed a large studio behind her. Video sales of Banging Billy weren’t bad, but Steve at Cougar didn’t care. She’d talked to him about letting her direct now that she’d made a feature-length porn film, but he just shook his head and said, “Sorry Sasha. My policy still stands. No fat drag queens in the director’s chair. Wouldn’t mind hiring that Billy, though.” She’d heard almost the exact same responses from the other studios.