I rocked back and forth in my chair, growing progressively more excited. Yes—the honesty trip! I’d include the rough edges, stuff that no one else would think to keep in. I’d pay my actresses on camera, but not before sitting them down to have an open discussion about their reasons for making such a terrible career move in the first place. I’d make pornography that deliberately left room for spontaneity. I’d find interesting people, put them in weird situations, and go forward from there. My life would become strange and spectacular. I would make movies, and plenty of cash, but more importantly, I would have experiences.
I knew what I was going to do with my life. I was going to become a pornographer. An artistic pornographer.
THREE
In the meantime, though, I was broke. I had to latch on to some kind of employment, and quick.
I managed to finagle a job at the local health food store, where, to my delight, they stuck me behind the juice bar. It was perfect: while I squeezed beets and slung wheatgrass, I kept an eye out for possible coconspirators. Casually, I began to bring up genitalia more and more often in everyday conversation, eyeing my customers to see if they betrayed any abnormal interest. The plan worked like a charm: within days, I met a mellow, middle-aged pervert named Dennis who mentioned quite shamelessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, that he liked getting pissed on. Immediately I knew I had found a kindred spirit.
Motioning to my manager that I was going on break, I whipped off my apron and signaled for Dennis to follow me to a corner table, where we could speak more privately.
“I’m liking what you’re saying,” I whispered.
“I can tell,” Dennis murmured, excitedly. “Are you thinking of arranging a ... ‘party’?”
“Something like that,” I said. I eyed him intensely. “How would you feel about taking a ‘shower’ in a more public forum?”
“What’ve you got in mind?” Dennis asked, coloring slightly.
“Let me put it like this,” I said quietly, my eyes locked into his. “How would you like to star in your very own porno movie?”
Dennis looked at me, his mouth slightly agape, seemingly stunned at his good fortune. “That sounds amazing,” he whispered.
“I’m thinking of becoming a pornographer,” I explained. “Maybe you can be my first real star.”
“But who are you going to get to perform with me?”
“Who do you want?”
“A really bitchy, dominatrix type would be great,” breathed Dennis.
“I’ll find you one,” I promised. “That shouldn’t be very difficult at all. Now, how much are you asking, Dennis?”
“Why, I’d do it for free,” he announced, smiling. ‘ It’d be my pleasure.”
“Good man,” I said, my eyes filling with unexpected tears. “Thank you, Dennis. This is going to be just terrific. Oh, wow—I think it’ll be a lot of fun, don’t you? Something to remember, a real experience”
“I eat shit, too,” Dennis said, helpfully.
Momentarily stunned, I slowly swiveled my head to see if anyone had overheard us. No one seemed to be looking in our direction with a horrified expression, so I assumed we were okay.
“You eat... what?”
“Oh, I eat shit. I prefer it to drinking piss.”
“Drinking piss?”
“Well, bathing in it, drinking it. Whatever. I prqbably like drinking it better. And of course I prefer eating shit to either of those.”
I looked at him. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No, not at all,” Dennis said. He shook his head earnestly. “Nope.”
“Well, listen, Dennis, I just don’t know about all this. I don’t know if I could shoot that.”
“Oh no. You can’t make a sex tape that shows defecation,” Dennis said, authoritatively. “Not to sell, at least. It’s very illegal.”
“Oh,” I breathed, relieved. “Well, that takes care of that.”
“I’d be up for it if you wanted to set something up privately, though.”
“Right.” I stared at him for a long second. “I think I’m going to pass, Dennis.”
“Great. No problem. Let’s do this peeing thing. I’m really excited about it.”
Finding a partner for Dennis proved to be easier than I imagined. All I had to do was visit a few BDSM websites and shoot off a bunch of emails; within a week, I’d received a phone call from Janay, a tall, muscular blonde from San Jose who was totally enthusiastic about my proposition. For $300, she’d not only humiliate Dennis, she’d also sit down for an hour-long interview with me on the day of the shoot.
“Obviously, I’d like to punish him a little bit, too, if that’s all right.”
“That sounds just fine,” I said. “I’ll run that by Dennis the next time I talk to him.”
“Best part of my job,” she said wistfully. “I have a thick, leather whip ...”
“I bet you do,” I said. “Do you work in a dungeon?”
“I actually don’t, Sam,” Janay said, brightly. “I’m lucky enough to be able to make my living almost exclusively as a video-dom. I’ve done lots of work for a San Francisco-based company called Redboard. Are you familiar with them? The guy in charge is named Duck Dumont. He’s actually quite well known in pornographic circles—as the legend goes, he shot Traci Lords’s first film, back in the early eighties. Anyway, Duck’s sort of fallen in love with what I bring to the screen. He’s given me my own series.”
“What’s it called?”
“Debbie Does Whip-Ass,” Janay said, proudly. “He lets me really thrash those fuckers.”
“O-kayyy,” I said. “Let’s just say, though, that, for instance, Dennis doesn’t really want to get hurt?”
“Then I’ll just totally humiliate him,” Janay said, shortly. “I really couldn’t give a fuck one way or the other, just so long as I get to make him cry.”
Not long after I settled on a date with Janay and gave her directions to my house (Periwinkle had given me permission to use the living room as our set), I called Dennis.
“Sam!” he said eagerly. “What’s the good word?”
“Got some great news for you, Dennis.”
“You’re kidding! You found somebody?”
“I sure did. And she’s gorgeous, too.”
“Oh my God. Oh, my God. Do you have pictures?”
“Absolutely. They’re on the Internet, I’ll give you the Web address in a second. She’s a beautiful blonde, about thirty-two years old, sexy as hell. Her legs go all the way up to her neck, Dennis.”
“This is incredible,” Dennis whispered, breathlessly. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. And is she a bitch?”
“Possibly . . . though she was very polite on the phone. Here’s the thing, though: it sounds like she wants to do you some physical damage.”
“Well, I’m not really into pain,” Dennis said, doubtfully.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Listen, don’t worry about it. She still wants to do the video. Are you busy this Saturday?”
“This Saturday? Wow, that’s soon. Are you serious, Sam?”
“Of course I am, Dennis. This is important to me, too, you know.
Now, can I count on you to be there?”
“Yes,” Dennis said, after a brief pause. ‘You can count on me.”
Dennis called me on Friday evening, wondering what he should wear.
“Do you think I should try to look ... cool?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. You’re gonna get pissed on, you know?”
“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, Sam. I just wish I were in better shape, though. I’m usually pretty good about going jogging, but lately, with work and all. ..”
“Dennis,” I interrupted gently. “Please stop worrying. You’ll look great, I promise. Now, try to get some sleep.”