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.

First Steps

Sorry to suddenly flip stories but after my short sabbatical I felt like writing about my beginnings.

I’ve told you about alot of my firsts in porno but I’m yet to divulge the tale of my first EVER shoot. My stepping stone into the surreal underworld that is sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly judged yet always intriguing, that is the sex industry. The beginning of my new vocation. The taster that got my juice buds suculating enough to make me want to experience more.

This shoot, my first journey into the business of pornography was a full nine months before I made a conscious effort to pursue porn as a career. I was simply testing the water. Playing a game and just trying to have some fun. I wanted to do something wild and daring and totally unlike the real me. I wanted to not be me for a while.

I found an advert in The Stage newspaper from a guy looking for females for adult photographic work. It said no experience necessary and new comers welcome. I built up the courage to call this guy one lunch time. He sounded nice. He asked me what I looked like, how old I was. He said he would travel to my town with all his equipment and book a hotel to shoot in if I couldn’t shoot from my own home. This sounded like a plan. So far so good but I wasn’t prepared for him to say could I make it that evening? Eeek!

My brain raced. Could I make it that evening? Did I even want to do it that same evening? Was I ready that soon? Id assumed it would be arranged in advance and that I would have time to build up to the big day. I knew I wouldn’t chicken out, when I set my heart and mind to something I do it but id really been hoping I’d have some time to get used to the idea and come to terms with what I was about to get myself into.

I told him this was my first time. This could have been a grave error as I opened myself up and laid bare my biggest weakness to a complete stranger. This could have been the magic words to a psycho but my instincts were telling me this was the right thing to do. I wasn’t thinking of dramatics. I was being positive and making sure he knew I wasn’t a pro to cover my back when I would no doubt turn up looking like a rabbit caught in the head lights. I was more worried he’d not pay me because I didn’t do a good enough job than getting raped and murdered. I figured if I was honest with him he’d help me along and coach me through the experience. I really had no idea what happened at an adult photo shoot. Not even enough to forge together a rough idea.

He, Neil, said that he’d pay me £50 cash per hour. Considering I was used to getting just £5 an hour in my then job, £50 was like winning the lottery. He said it would only take an hour or so. I dont recall if he expalined what end use the pictures would have. I didnt know the difference between pro or am in those early days. i didnt know there were hobbiests so i guess i must have assumed at the least that he was a pro.

He was only going to take pictures of me on my own in sexy poses. He asked if I was ok with spreading my legs and I assured him that was fine and it really didn’t bother me in the slightest. I knew this wasn’t going to be some glossy glamour shoot such as those soft and tasteful ones seen in lad mags. I was fully aware that this was top shelf magazine stuff. Naughty, rude, no frills images of me baring myself in all my glory. It was almost worrying how unfazed I was by this notion. I wasn’t erotically excited by it at all either. I was excited but more so by the thought of doing something so different. So unlike me. Of stepping into the unknown and doing something that took confidence. Now I reflect that it also took stupidity and desperation.

Neil wasn’t pushy, it was my own irrational fear that if I said no to his suggestion of shooting that night that I might lose out altogether. Never one to miss out I gathered my thoughts as quick as I could and worked out that yes I could make it that evening. Only just mind. I’d have to grab a taxi home from work to bath, shave my pegs and re do my hair and makeup and collect some lingerie and then cab it back into town. It would be a rush but what the hell. ‘Let’s do it’ I thought.

I put the phone down on a high, buzzing from the adrenaline rush. I still didn’t know where id got the courage from to make the call. I thought I’d be more nervous about that evening impending activities but I didn’t have enough of an idea of what was to happen to be that way. I didn’t have any expectations or aspirations. I was just going to go along and see what happened. I couldn’t think to hard about something I didn’t know anything about and I was glad as I couldn’t talk myself out of it.

I had a smug air about me that afternoon and a naughty glint in my eye knowing that I had just created this hugely controversial secret about myself. I suddenly felt all grown up and adored.

Classified

It’s a strange habit of mine but I always measure a models success by how often she appears in the small ads and classifieds on the back pages of a men’s magazine. You know the tiny little chat line adverts in boxes an inch or so high.
You might have never even paid attention to the girls in these pictures. You may have actually thought that the two girls in “Listen in on college filth” were real college girls.

I remember years before I even contemplated getting my kit off for a living a friend of mine had a job fly posting all the chat line and hooker cards in London phone boxes. We used to laugh at that job. One day he bought a card back with a picture of Jo Guest on it and some text along the lines of ‘Hear me talk dirty – live 121 sex chat’. You would expect someone doing that for a living would be a little more clued up than to ask me “Do you think it’s really Jo Guest you get on the phone?”

No honey. That’s just a stock photo of a model.

You might think that being on the actual pages of the magazine would be the important part. The actual wank fodder part of the magazine. The part that paid her several hundred quid to undress.

Not me. I believe you have only really arrived once you have a premium rate telephone no. next to your picture.
The strange thing is that despite all my marked success in the business over the years I’ve never been in a classified ad.
Every magazine I race to the back pages first and scour the explosion of scantily clad busty blondes mixed in with a few grannies for a little diversity. I recognise so many faces including those of girls that really have hit the big time winning contracts alongside the world’s most popular porn star Jenna Jameson.

Still no me.

That really would be the icing on my cake. What a strange thing to aspire to.