Lights, Camera, Action

The minutes soon ticked by and Neil was ready to start clicking away with his camera.
Neil hadn’t gotten a drink at the bar and I was pacing myself through mine. I wasn’t a big drinker and a glass of coke could easily last me three hours in a bar.

I was a cheap date.

He asked me to sit on the sofa while he ran some test shots to check his lighting and then off we went. He directed me through poses. Subtle changes or he’d change angle altogether before asking me to progress the scene. The images should tell a storey. A simple and unimaginative one in this case merely depicting me starting off dressed and slowly stripping out of my black dress then my bra and finally my thong. I tried to remember the posses the girls pulled in the porn mags Id read before to help me. He asked me to hold my breasts or squeeze them together. To spread my legs a little wider and to spread my pussy lips so everyone could see exactly what was going on down there. Id never showed off to a boyfriend like this before so it really was a new experience for me. And I never masturbated.

Once I was naked he grabbed the pink vibrator and passed it to me. He said there were no batteries in the jelly like machine so I only needed to pose with it. Hold it to my hole or insert it slightly.

In time id discover many “amateur” photographers would expect me to insert fingers and dildos and actually masturbate myself. I didn’t understand why at first. It was only pictures so I didn’t need to physically go through the motions just put things where they should be and stay still in a pose. Neil, my first professional photographer and all the other professional photographers that followed didn’t expect me to do that. Initially I thought it’s because they, the amateurs, didn’t really know what they were doing. They didn’t know how the pros did things properly.

Later id work out it was simply that they were closet pervs. Some wouldn’t possess a video camera for which you would be required to act out a masturbation scene so rather than miss out they’d ask you to do it for real but just take still images. Others just couldn’t control themselves and once you had your vibe in hand they’d be all “Oh, can you move it about abit. In and out?

These guys didn’t really care a blind bit about photos or art or getting into making porno movies themselves. They just wanted a live wank show. It became easier to placate them then try to insist you were a professional model and should be respected as such. Often if you played their game and complied they’d book you again or give you a tip.

Neil laid my foundations. He showed me the ropes and how things “should” be done.

I was busy posing with a pink jelly vibrator up my twat with my legs in the air when he said “OK, that will do me”. We must have been working for about 45 minutes.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a little turned on showing off in this provocative way in front of Neil even though he was in no way attractive to me. I had to switch off to the physical aspect of my real time audience but still have the enthusiasm I would have if I was doing this in private to some gorgeous bloke id been chatting up all evening in the pub and managed to convince to come home with me. It was strange but stranger still it wasn’t so hard. I was still anxious throughout and that took a lot of my concentration not to mention actually concentrating on posing. I didn’t have time to think about how weird this all was. How unnatural.

I sat there not sure what to do next. I was naked in a small generic looking hotel room. He asked me to grab my denim jacket and put that on. I lay on the bed and he started to shoot again but he couldn’t really do another series of shots as I didn’t have much to strip out of. So the second set was more of a mess around. A time killer. Then Neil made a suggestion.

As I briefly said before Neil laid my foundations that day. He also laid me.

Dutch Courage

I finished up my work with great haste that afternoon but inevitably everything that possibly could go wrong did. I usually didn’t mind working late to finish tasks but tonight I was going to strip off in front of a perfect stranger in a hotel room and let him take pictures of me that were quite likely going to end up in a top shelf men’s magazine somewhere for an audience far greater than just that one stranger to see.

At least I knew what I was getting into...sort of!

I had decided the only way to time this right was to get a taxi back home instead of the bus. Could I hail a cab? Could I fuck. One eventually turned up although i was starting to panic. I told him to drop me at the Off Licence at the end of my street so I could pick up a bottle of wine. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous but not nearly as much as I believe a normal human being should have been. It was more an impatient excitement. The wine was for Dutch courage in case this fear I thought I should be experiencing suddenly materialised at the eleventh hour. I was adamant I was not going to bottle it but at the same time I was kind of looking for excuses to not let it happen.

I flew threw my front door and quickly showered and shaved my legs and ‘bits’. I re applied my makeup and freshened up my hair style, my glass of wine in hand. Id decided what lingerie to take with me. I’d been planning that all afternoon.

I had a cute yet sexy little number compromising of a purple and pink lace demi bra and matching thong. I was more worried about what outerwear to wear to the meeting. We were meeting in a hotel so should I dress up like some kind of discreet yet sexy hooker or was this part just matter of fact and part of the logistics? Did I still need to make an impression at this point or was it in the bag?

I opted for a simple black linen dress that was smart casual with my denim jacket over the top. That should cover all bases. I put my undies in my hand bag and hailed another taxi back into town and to the hotel wed agreed to meet in.

As I walked into the hotel bar an average looking guy gave me a cautious look before calling my name. He didn’t look like a murderous slime ball. He just looked like your typical non descript 30 something. He asked if I wanted a drink at the bar before we started. I guess he figured if it was my first time I could do with some Dutch courage as well. He was likely to be just as worried as I was that id flake out before things got underway.

I took him up on his offer not wanting to appear rude and also wanting to buy myself some time to find my comfort zone.

My glass of red wine and I followed Neil to his room where he had photographic lights and equipment all over the floor. This made me relax as this confirmed we were going to be doing what he’d said we would be doing. I kept an eye on my drink though. I didn’t want him slipping me something nasty although I was confident he wouldn’t.

He asked me what id bought to wear and I showed him my delicious lingerie set hoping it would impress him as much as it did me. “Ok” he said looking abit miffed. “We can do one set with that”. I had no idea that what Neil was trying to say was that he’d overlooked the fact that as a newbie I wouldn’t know how much lingerie to bring with me so I took his request to bring some lingerie literally and only had one set with me. It became apparent that communication wasn’t Neil’s greatest quality as rather than explain that I should have bought several sets with me he just muddled through and it wouldn’t be until I really started to look into the business, contacting people and learning the ropes that id realise I needed a small suitcase load full of lingerie plus actual outfits for a shoot.

As you can see I was learning even from day one.

I sat and drank my wine as Neil set up his kit. He pulled two boxes containing phallic looking plastic vibrators out and asked if I’d be comfortable using them. He assured me they were brand new but the fact that what he was getting at was that they weren’t pre used and therefore possibly contaminated with germs and bacteria that could give me an infection passed me by in all the excitement of what was going on around me.

I told him that was fine and it genuinely was. I could sense his disappointment even though I didn’t know the reason was because of the lack of outfits so I would have said yes even if I wasn’t comfortable using the sex toys.

Time of my Life

A lot of people aren’t aware of all the energy and hard work that goes into being a porn actress or model. I’ll admit I didn’t either to begin with. Even I thought it was as simple as turning up to a job, doing the job and then coming home to enjoy spending the money id just made. Think about traditional models and the rep they get as clueless, talentless beings. How many people have you heard utter the words ‘Modelling...how hard can it be?’

I had this little vision when I started out and it went something like this. I could make as much money doing one single shoot as it took me a week to earn in my old job. Instead of working 40 hours a week I now only needed to work between 2 and 4 hrs. The rest of the week was mine to do as I wished. I could study to do something interesting or be a lazy couch potato eating crisps and watching Trisha on TV. If I did more than one shoot a week id be on even more money so I could spend my time shopping for nice things. Bliss!

Ah life would have been so simple if that fantasy had been true. I’m not the type to sit around being passive and since so much work was being offered to me I simply accepted it and found myself working most days.

The logistics of being a porn star are very different to how one outside the business might believe they are. I get fan mail from people who genuinely think I sit around eating bon bons all day. Either that or being a nymphomaniac (in their minds anyway) I’m constantly having sex in some way shape or form. This fool’s paradise always makes me chuckle. I wish.

Obviously there is a lot of travelling involved in this line of work. Most of my shoots do take place in London which is where I call home but the rest, which still makes up a large volume, can be based all over the rest of the UK and indeed the world. Ok so spending hours on a train isn’t so stressful especially the way technology is today but it can mean very early starts and stupidly late finishes. Just see my last blog to see how long some days can be. In fact some producers have a call time for the day before or for full cast first thing in the morning. That way they can ensure that if anyone isn’t going to show up they have time to call in a replacement and limit the damage that can be created by a no show. They might ask you to travel down the evening before and put you up for the night or tell you to get to the set for 8am only for you to find yours is the last scene of the day at 10pm.

People get anxious and board hanging around so it’s no wonder drink and drugs are found on sets so often to alleviate both symptoms. I started smoking because of this. It would give me an excuse to pop outside and get some fresh air (yeah I know, ironic huh!?) and a change of scenery. It was a bonding mechanism too. A common ground I could share with people and made me feel I belonged.

Then as I mentioned in an earlier blog there is shopping for wardrobe. Ok, it’s still shopping but it’s kind of like shopping for work clothes. It’s not as much fun if any fun at all. It’s not really indulging the real you.

And also maintaining your look as a glamour girl. Fake tans and sunbeds, nails, hair. All this takes time and money. Staying fit and in shape is a must so going to the gym regularly is important. In all honesty more of the girls who just model at a more soft core range rather than the ones who act in movies will do this and take the up keep of their bodies seriously. Girls who mainly do films tend to spend more time boozing and getting high than working out. The latter tends to keep the weight off anyway but these two opposite ends of the wellbeing spectrum don’t mix well as you can probably imagine although I do know one girl who often went to the gym after a session in the bar. Personally I couldn’t have stayed upright on a tread mill for very long if I was wankered.

But all this maintenance is very time consuming. Most women enjoy going to the salon or nail bar. I just found it a damn inconvenience and an encroachment on my time.

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.

Workwear - Yes we do wear clothes...sometimes!

As I mentioned to you earlier it costs alot of money for me to be (insert porn name).

And there was you thinking porn stars were born looking like that. Nope....as in keeping with the fantasy of pornutopia underneath all that silicone, acrylic and bleach we are nothing like our porn personas.

Believe it or not, one of the most important tools for any glamour model or adult actress (I hate using that term. I find it really cheapens the meaning for the talented real actresses) is her wardrobe. Yes we spend our time predominantly naked but we have our own style for this job. Slut wear is what you find topless models, club dancers, strippers and porn stars wearing. 6inch glass stilettos and tiny Lycra hot pants. If you’re still not sure what I’m talking about have a look at http://www.forplaycatalog.com/

Since I wasn’t in the habit of dressing up like a slag in my normal life I had to scrimp together what revealing outfits I did have for work. Short skirts and skimpy tops. I really didn’t have that many that were sexy and I knew I couldn’t be seen wearing the same top and skirt for every job so I had to go shopping. I had to buy a whole new wardrobe which wasn’t going to be cheap and I still wasn’t exactly rich in those early days.

My plan of action was this. I’d go shopping with what limited funds I did have and then make sure I was ever so careful with these outfits when I wore them on set. I made sure not to get any make up or bodily fluids on them and when doing my sexy little strip id peel it off so carefully so it didn’t rip or snag. Id then return them to the shop and swap them for something different I could wear the next time I was booked. This meant I had to do my shopping all over the place. I couldn’t keep going into Top Shop in my home town or id have been caught out returning and swapping stuff each week so I had to travel great distances to make my little scam work.

This way I could afford the nice outfits and look really good on set. I was loaning the clothes from the high street chains. The only thing I did have to invest in was sexy lingerie and stockings. Oh and my tranny porn shoes. To this day I have a draws full of beautiful lingerie from all over the world and in every colour you can imagine. I plan to auction it all off for charity one day. I really dread the day when I have no real reason to be buying gorgeous undies anymore. It is one of life’s simple and harmless pleasures.

Eventually I realised the other girls didn’t bother taking any pride in their wardrobes and the producers weren’t even that concerned either. You’d turn up on set with your big suitcase bursting full of new shiny clothes and ask the producer what you should wear to be told “Oh you pick something”. They didn’t want to be bored with menial tasks like picking wardrobe. They had important things to do like making unimaginative generic porn that looks like every other scene ever filmed.

Or they’d tell you to bring four or five different outfits. An outfit means lingerie plus outerwear, like a dress or skirt and top and shoes. No one ever asks you to accessorise and rarely to wear stockings or be imaginative with your make up. Then when you get there having lugged your biggest suitcase across the capital and not been able to squeeze your way onto three different packed commuter trains, sweating your bollocks off and looking less than attractive right now they say “oh just wear that teeny weeny g string. No shoes”. You wanker! I could have fit that in my pocket and left all this shit at home.

Dragging my case from A to B became the worst aspect of my work for a long time. How silly does that sound?

I also started earning enough money to stop my little scam after a while. I could have kept it up but it became time consuming and what else was I going to do with all this money. I learnt to buy afew nice things that would keep me going and then if I found something I really liked I treated myself.

I don’t leave my appearance in the hands of uncouth producers nowadays. I take the initiative and dress myself deciding on the little details like which accessories to stylise with, how heavy or natural to do my make up or what style to do my hair in today and I more often than not wear stockings if only hold ups and not the whole suspender she-bang. If I left it to the uncreative idiots who produce this tack id look exactly the same as I did in the last five films I shot.

I became obsessed with shoes though as I said in an earlier post. Even now I always try and streamline my suitcase and take a capsule wardrobe whenever possible but each outfit needs a different pair of shoes. Afew bangles and necklaces don’t take up much room but 7 pairs of shoes do!

I will never get away from that loathsome suitcase.