Easy Peasy

I’d been well and truly bedazzled by Carmen this time. Myself and Cheryl were matching and ready for action. The film was being shot in a night club in the Midlands whilst it was closed in the day. There were people milling around the club. Other actors and actresses that had been cast for other scenes being shot that day, the camera crew, staff from the club trying to do their own daily chores without getting in our way.

I picked up a porn mag laying on the pool table that had been transformed into Carmen’s make up table. It wasn’t a normal top shelf mag. This one had much more copy in it and no picture sets. The name of the magazine was AVN – Adult Video News. It was full of American films and performers but the director of the film I was in today had a small write up about one of his movies in there too. Other than that there was hardly anyone I knew or had heard of before. It was interesting to see how all the American girls looked and posed. The names of the films featured and the covers of the videos.

Two other girls who were equally as stupidly made up had gone in to shoot there lesbian scene before us despite me and Cheryl being the first out of hair and makeup. This was annoying as id been up so early and hadn’t really eaten anything. The fact Cheryl didn’t really talk to me meant I was sitting with nothing to do allowing my nerves to grow stronger and stronger. During this lull in activity Carmen asked Cheryl if she would take a £2000 over night escort booking. A guy had just called in on the phone. Apparently Cheryl escorted for Carmen a lot. The fact the pair of them had just walked in from the bathroom together and literally stood in front of me to have this conversation which was very woodenly acted out gives me reason to believe this was Carmen trying to get my attention and expecting me to have pound signs ker-chinging in my ears and eyes say that I’d do it.

I wasn’t at all interested in being a prostitute. I was an adult performer. I had nothing against girls who did do it but I was taken up with my new friend pornography. I remained silent and then Carmen pranced back over to her makeup nonchalantly asking if I’d ever considered escorting. I told her no but that id bear it in mind. A polite thanks but no thanks.

We were finally ready for our scene. We had to stand on two podiums on the dance floor and dance. Now I suddenly had something else to be petrified about other than this being my first time fucking a guy on film. I hated people watching me dance. It struck the fear of god into me so I blurted out that I can’t dance. The director didn’t care and said just do my best. I looked at Cheryl and she shrugged. As it turns out she was worse than me. The director shouted action and we started jigging about like two Christmas baubles on acid. I immediately felt better knowing Cheryl hated this as much as me. At least I wasn’t up there on my own.

Then Oliver the French performer enters for the scene. He strolls in all chic and French looking. Not particularly young or studdly looking. He reminded me of the French guy in Private Benjamin, the 80S film with Goldie Horn. He was older and more slimy looking than I thought a male porn stud would be. He didn’t smile and looked bored.

We moved on and got on with the action fairly quickly. All of about 30 seconds of girl on girl tit sucking and then Oliver joined in. He moved his head in between Cheryl’s legs and then stood up and yelled cut. I had no idea what was going on but he’d gone off and whispered in the director’s ear who had then whispered in Cheryl’s ear. I was getting abit paranoid in all honesty. Turns out Oliver thought she smelled unwell. Chances of Cheryl actually having BV or Thrush were high. They are in this business. Oliver didn’t want to take any chances and who knows it could have been something more serious so Cheryl’s vagina (and mouth to be on the safe side) was left out of the scene and she became abit of a spare part.

This freaked me for a second as I realised I wouldn’t be able to copy her any more but what actually happened was a god send. As I now had two people jumping all over me all I really could do was lay there and look like I was loving all the action. I couldn’t have moved for want of trying. I had hands and mouths all over me. Easy!

The penetrative sex was fine and I was more concerned with my knees on the rough surface of the podium than how big this guy’s cock was inside me. Cheryl was asked to use an old beer bottle on herself whilst Oliver took me from behind. I watched Cheryl and her bottle which I found quite entertaining in a non sexual way to the point I forgot I was being pounded myself. Well I wasn’t really being pounded, at least not like id learn I could be pounded in later years.

The Real Deal

My first official and professional boy/girl skin flick was certainly a momentous day to remember for me.

I had been cast in a two girl one guy scene. I found out on the day when I arrived at the location bright and far too early that the guy I was to be working with was a famous French porn star. The other girl was a young jail bait type. I kept hearing her name a lot so I assumed she was fairly popular and this made me aspire to work with her. I was quite excited about this scene really. I got to work with the legendary Cheryl Blows – well she was legendary in my naive head and I got to do my first proper sex scene with a man. I assumed Cheryl would be like Jody and take me under her wing. In fact id heard that Cheryl and Jody were quite pally and had work a lot together so I assumed Cheryl would be Jody mark two.

I was of course wrong. Cheryl had an attitude problem. Well that’s how I surmised it. In retrospect she didn’t, she just was a very private and aloof girl and didn’t involve herself with other people in the business. She was very young and so had a popular look and her personality or seeming lack of it made her appear even younger and almost shy.

Still I tried to make her like me and focused on the fact I still got to say I worked with her.

I was nervous it being my first full sex scene with an actual live penis. I kind of hoped Cheryl would take the lead as Jody had done before so that I could copy. I was glad it was a two girl threesome so at least I wasn’t completely out there on my own. Of course id had sex before plenty of times. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how to fuck but porn wasn’t really like real life. I mean for starters you didn’t have all the thrill and build up of managing to pull someone before you take them home and shag their socks off. It’s kind of like all the emotional stuff is taken away first and you’re thrown in the deep end. It’s kind of weird picking things up half way through a story and being expected to be as passionate as if you had worked really hard to snare this hunk of a guy and get him back to your place.

That’s the acting part and it’s also one of the parts that will screw you up in the head most in this business. At first you just get through it on nerves and anticipation alone but soon you get bored of it and start looking like a bad actress. That’s when the booze and drugs start being a requirement to get through it.

I was so nervous. That was to be expected I guess but I felt like a freak for being nervous. Everyone on the set had had sex before and most were used to watching other people doing it. I wasn’t used to any of this though but I tried hard not to let it show and prayed Cheryl read my mind telepathically and did guide me through.

Me and Cheryl got made up by the makeup artist who also happened to be the producer/directors pimp wife. She was a pretty plump lady who seemed deluded about her age. Mutton dressed as lamb sprung to mind. She had been a porn actress herself in her younger years, her massive breasts managing to make her very popular not just in the UK but also largely (pardon the pun) in Europe.

Carmen booked the girls for the shoots and acted as a makeup artist on the day. I came to the conclusion after a few shoots with this company that Carmen liked to be in charge of make up so she could make the girls look like fucking morons in a vain attempt to feel better about her own fading looks. Make up really was applied with a shot gun. Bright red lippy all over your face so you resembled Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane and glitter spray all over you so you looked like an extra in Starlight Express. This was especially annoying when the location had no shower facilities so you had to go home with most of the glitter still stuck on you, your baby wipe hooker wash not really doing the trick. How her producer/performer husband never complained about the state of us or even managed to get a hard on when he was performing with us looking like demented idiots was beyond me.

As I mentioned Carmen was also a pimp or a Madame. She had been introduced to the escorting world on her trips to Europe and had made many rich contacts who would like nothing better than to splurge large amounts of cash on porn stars or glamour models. She was a very popular buxom lady in the 80s and working as a prostitute supplemented her modelling and porn income and after the glamorous work dried up kept her in the lifestyle she was accustomed to.

She had managed to set up an escort agency of her own specialising in porn star and glamour model escorts. She was in charge of booking the girls for her husband’s productions, that way she could coaxed them into joining her escort agency and supplement the escorts she already had on her agency books with more porn and modelling work when they weren’t in demand by horny wealthy men.

To Good To Be True

I had circled this particular job in The Stage and called the telephone number given to find out more details. The guy sounded young and talked fast. He said id need to come and do a test shoot and then hopefully he would get me some work. He mentioned magazines such as FHM and all the usual laddie mags so of course I jumped at the chance to get my foot in the door to do something so prestigious.

I got the tube up to Warwick Avenue one Sunday afternoon. The guy had asked me to call from the station and he’d walk round the corner to meet me. Sure enough there he was. A young British Asian guy. He looked smart and his conversation sounded professional. We talked on the way back to the studio which turned out to be just a basement flat. I was used to being met by the producer or photographer so I was surprised to find out the photographer was a guy called John and he was already at the location. His girlfriend was also there sunbathing but I was told to ignore her as she was hung over and grouchy. I wasn’t sure then exactly what or who this Asian guy was. Was he an agent? An assistant?

I walked out of the hot summer sun and down to the dark flat which was nicely decorated but reminded me abit of the old beatniks. The photographer went through my capsule wardrobe that id bought with me. A load of brand new PVC and skimpy outfits from my latest recycling stint at Top Shop. He chose an outfit and I went to get dressed. He was an old white haired guy. You could tell he used to be a hippy or something but he’d turned trendy now. He wasn’t that personable but not scary. I took a breath and left the bathroom where Id changed and we started shooting.

Afterwards John played back his images through the TV to show me how they had turned out. They were lovely. Far nicer than any of the other pictures id modelled for, almost arty with nice angles that made me look amazing. No gratuitous poses with my legs behind my head here. Just simple and beautiful images of me posing seductively. Some were black and white and very sophisticated looking. I signed a model release form that the Asian guy handed me and thought with images like that they couldn’t fail to get me more work.

The young Asian guy walked me back to the tube. Id only been there and hour or so but I felt it went well. I was on a high knowing that id just shot the nicest pictures of my career so far. I never knew I could look so good. When we got to the tube he told me he’d be in touch if any of their contacts wanted to do a paid shoot with me.

It was a strange shoot. I really didn’t know what to make of it.
Was this an agency or was I shooting for the photographer to book me for a magazine and why had I signed a model release form if this was only a test shoot?

I went home reassured that id be hearing back from them soon with those wonderful images to represent me.

Time passed by and I got more work elsewhere to occupy my mind but after a few weeks I started to ponder as to why I hadn’t heard back from the guy at Warwick Avenue. At first I made excuses and imagined he was just busy. Then I rationalised that maybe I wasn’t what his clients were looking for. Eventually I decided to give them a call. There was no law saying I couldn’t and then if he had forgotten about me, my call would remind him he was supposed to be getting me some work.

The phone just rang and rang and rang when I plucked up the courage to dial his number.
Not even the opportunity to leave a message. That didn’t sound very professional. Sounded more like someone who didn’t want to be contacted.

I lay in bed thinking about this strange situation all the while my gut getting tighter and tighter with the feeling that something wasn’t right. I fell asleep eventually thinking that at worst, if they didn’t think I was pretty enough or busty enough to book other shoots that I could ask if they wouldn’t mind me having some copies of those gorgeous images from my portfolio that I was slowly trying to build.

In those days things were abit more traditional. Glamour girls still had books and didn’t rely on online portfolio pages or fan sites. I still love my book. I can look back at that in years to come and see some beautiful erotic pictures I’ve posed for. In amongst some smuttier ones that is.

Eventually I gave up hope of hearing from these people with any work but I became upset that I wouldn’t even have the chance to ask for copies of the images either. I could get over the lack of work if I could be pacified with images instead. At least that way I might book some other work on the merit of those pictures.

That was the first time I was lulled into doing a shoot or a “test shoot” for someone looking to make a fast buck and cut me out of the equation. Id signed a model release and that should have been a dead giveaway that they intended to sell those pictures for a profit. They told me it was a casting or test shoot so they wouldn’t have to pay me. They preyed on my eagerness to succeed and took advantage. Luckily that’s all they took advantage of and I came out of the whole affair unscathed and just disappointed but on an upbeat note id learned a valuable lesson the very easy way.

One day id realise that some people had the nerve to try this stunt requesting hardcore test shoots of girls.

Paper Work

Whenever anyone asks me if I’ve ever had any bad experiences in my career I tend to only speak of one minor incident in my early days. It was more a case of being gullible which resulted in being ripped off on a small scale.

I found alot of my early work in the back of The Stage news paper. The people advertising in there were usually the agents or the people you were really better off staying well away from. My first ever top shelf style shoot was found in there and because I found the agents who in turn put me out to alot of other potential employers it took me a while to work out The Stage was abit of a hit and miss resource.

Every week id rush in to WH Smiths for the latest copy. Most of the time it was the same old adverts but occasionally a new one popped up. Sometimes the ad would run for a few weeks and other times just for one single week.

But as per usual, since id had what I considered an easy and loving entry into the business I liked to think the best of everyone until I had good reason to think otherwise. I was about to learn the hard way.

As id effectively had my induction into the biz with the pro clique I’ve learned all about signing paperwork and my supposed “rights” as a model. All professional shoots required me to sign a model release form. No, that wasn’t so I’d be released from captivity after the trauma of shooting a porno. It simply implied that the material we had just produced belonged to the producer or production studio and they maintained all rights of the footage or images and how it would be used.

It’s pretty damn obvious if you ask me that if I’m having sex with someone with a film crew recording the action and then I get paid that I’m doing it for a purpose but from what I’d heard it was very common for girls to have serious regrets soon after and beg and threaten producers and companies not to release the footage or even to go as far as retracting it.

Can you imagine Hollywood stars pulling this stunt? Tom Cruise saying no I don’t want to be associated with this movie any more, it only got 2 stars in Rolling Stone. Re film it with another star in my place.

OK, OK...I do sympathise with the girls. It’s not nice to find you can’t get a serious job again because your face and vagina are all over HMVs adult section, but you knew what you were doing when you filmed it. If you really hadn’t thought about the consequences you shouldn’t be there. The sad fact is that most porn stars don’t fully understand the consequences. No one can. Human beings aren’t born with hindsight.

Producers often say that no model would ever get very far in court a) because you’d find it hard to find a lawyer willing to take this kind of case on and b) because even if you did manage a) the law on porn is so grey even the authorities can’t tell you what’s what. It would cost someone an arm and a leg to take it to court and chances of you winning would be slim. Plus it risks placing your shady past all over the papers which is what you’re trying to avoid in the first place.

Producers don’t believe in the power of model releases yet they still collect them just in case!

Barbie Girl

I just had to share these with you.

Not only did I find these images amazingly humorous, avant garde, kitsch and above all ironic but I really would consider hanging this type of art like this on my wall.

It kind of reminds me of the time when I was a “Peaky”, that’s a fan of the 90s cult TV show Twin Peaks. I decided to massacre one of my old Barbie dolls from my rather large childhood Barbie collection and make her into Laura Palmer in the opening scenes. I discoloured her with a blue felt tip pen and wrapped her naked in cling film. I felt abit freakish doing that at the time but she would have fit right in here. I’m glad other people enjoy staging psychologically challenging situations with their plastic pals.

http://flickr.com/photos/55396233@N00/sets/72157603702021021/

http://flickr.com/groups/41685257@N00/pool/ - naughty toys group
http://flickr.com/groups/dollxxx/pool/ - plastic porn stars group

Being Recognised

Many people assume porn stars walk around with transvestite style war paint makeup and big hair all the time. If you don’t look like a trashy Essex girl out on the tiles of a Saturday night you can’t possibly be a porn star!

I’ve said before that I fit into the girl next door category very well and I’m glad of this for one thing alone. I don’t get recognised and no one would readily believe I am a porn star without good evidence. I look too normal for that and in fact when on the odd occasion I have told people what I do half of them laugh at and attempt to humour me.

I hate wearing makeup when I’m not working and the only time I even venture near a mirror to fix up is if I’m going out for a fancy night out that requires abit of polishing. If I’m simply going local I don’t worry about my face or looks.

I dress down too. A lot of girls go for the off duty glamour girl look in tight jeans and skimpy cleavage promoting tops finished off with a pair of Ugg boots. I wear my sloppy stuff and Ugg boots too but I really do look like I’ve made no effort when I do it. Those girls still look polished and styled.

This is just me. I don’t attempt to go out in disguise. It seems to work though.

Not that I haven’t been recognised. The most embarrassing time was when I was out for the night with my boyfriend and his family. Luckily they know what I do or it could have been very awkward but I think they were as shocked as me when some guy had his girlfriend take a picture on his camera phone of me and him together. I was more worried about his partner decking me in a jealous rage than what the rellies thought but she was all smiles. Luckily I had dressed up that night! I may not be a glamour puss but I have a vain streak and wouldn’t want a porno fan having his picture taken with me looking like a tramp.

I also got spotted outside the GU clinic once after getting my sexual health test. I strongly suspect this guy had worked out where all the porn stars went for their tests and was loitering with intent. This wasn’t exactly confidential information and abit of Googling would easily give you access to that information. I rushed out the main entrance and ran up the street to grab the tube and dash off for my next job when some guy ran after me and asked for my telephone no. so he could book me. He said he was a fan and wanted to do the amateur thing – fair enough but I’m not giving any stranger on the street my phone no. I told him the name of a website where he could find my model advert and to book me through that. He kept trying to find reason to stand and chat to me but when I told him I was in a rush to get to a shoot he went all drooley at the thought of me getting yet another good stuffing from some well endowed stud and sent me on my way.

The first time someone I actually knew found out what I was doing was when I was rudely awoken from a Sunday morning lie in by an old friend and work colleague from back in my home town and old life. She was a few years younger than me and I always thought of her as quite sweet and innocent. We had drifted apart abit but still kept in touch - just about. You can imagine my surprise then when she comes straight out and says ‘was that you I saw on Television X last night with some other girl?’ For a split second I was concerned about what she thought of me. Not that I cared that she knew or not. I wasn’t trying to hide it or anything but then I was overcome with concern for her. What the hell was she doing watching Television X?

Apparently her man liked to watch it from time to time. I was definitely more shocked about her being exposed to adult material than she was about me staring in it. She thought it was funny and gave me encouragement. I think she thought it was cool that she now personally knew a porn star. Not that I was a star in those days more a mere debutant.

She assured me that she was grown up enough to watch porn and not to worry about her but was abit confused as she had viewed me in a lesbian scene. Did this mean I was a lesbian? It was now my turn to assure her that although id wondered for abit if I maybe was that I actually wasn’t. ‘Oh, that’s ok then’ she said. I think that admittance would have shocked her even more than seeing her old friend and boss taking it up the bum on late night adult satellite television.