12:45
Jay returns to the set in a beige suit and orange faux-fur hat. He has a cameo as a pimp in the next scene. The male star, Kyle, dressed in a ridiculous superhero outfit, is pacing and reciting his lines in a varied array of styles for his own amusement.
Jay is visibly frustrated by the late arrival of the girl in the first sex scene of the day. "Where's the girl?" he shouts at no one in particular. Chelsea Sinclaire (nee Ebony Sinclaire) arrives on set at that very moment dressed in a glittery, rainbow tube top and mini skirt. Aside from the huge breasts squeezed into her top, Chelsea doesn't look like a porn star. She is naturally pretty with flawless brown skin. With her broad north of England accent (think Daphne from Frasier, then take it down a notch), she doesn't sound like a porn star either.
"Oh, beautiful tits, Chels!" says Robby D as she takes her place on set. "You just get those done?"
"Yeah, seven weeks old," she calls from the other end of the set. This is to be the first time they will be captured on tape.
"They look real good, like real natural black titties," Robby shouts back before turning to the crew. "I'm thirsty for chocolate milk!" he whispers to them.
The crew is muttering the name of a surgeon. "Gordo do those for ya?" Robby asks Chelsea. "Gordo," he reports back; the crewmembers nod their heads in unison. They've seen his work before and hold it in high regard.
Jay bangs out his pimp lines in the plot development scene before leaving the sex scene proper to Chelsea and Kyle.
"Okay, suck his dick, Chels," chirps the director. Instruction is coming thick and fast from Robby. "Look grateful, he just flew in to save your life. Get nasty with it. Spit on it Chels, don't be shy. Great, now say something real nasty."
Chelsea takes Kyle's penis out of her mouth and breathes, "I love your cock."
Robby rolls his eyes and looks at the crew. "'I love your cock,'" he mocks. "Jesus."
"Okay, lets see some soft shots," bellows Robby, clapping his hands together. In order for a film to increase its revenue, all of the scenes in a movie are shot twice, with the second version not showing any penetration or erect penises. That way it can be sold to a softcore market that includes cable stations like Spice and The Playboy Channels.
Kyle and Chelsea dry-hump in a few positions before Robby asks for a FIP, which I learn stands for Fake Internal Pop. Kyle looks demonically possessed as he bangs his flaccid cock against Chelsea's behind, "finishing" with a loud bellow.
"Okay, let's fuck!" shouts Robby as Ross, a twenty-two-year-old production assistant, hands him Chelsea's discarded thong. He holds it to his nose and sniffs. "Mmmm, want some?" he asks, offering the scrap of material to the boom mike operator.
"No thanks, man," he sighs. "I'm trying to cut down."
Jay appears briefly to complain about how slowly things are moving and walks out swearing under his breath. Kyle and Chelsea sit across from each other, making small talk while she applies lube to her vagina and he slaps and rubs some life into his penis and puts on a condom, its use now mandatory on most porn sets.
"Let's have a nice slow insertion," calls the thuggish and strangely likeable D. The actors churn out a carbon copy of the pretend scene, which is somehow no more convincing despite everything slotting into its natural place. The pop shot is conducted on Chelsea's breasts. Still photos are taken and the crew breaks for lunch.
1:45
A woman everyone on the set refers to as "Mom" is cooking burgers in the kitchen/hospitality area upstairs. An enormous buffet is laid out on the counter as she buzzes around taking orders. A couple of scantily clad girls talk about makeup and shopping, while the men talk about their recent purchases of gas masks, water filters and automatic weapons in response to the September 11th attacks. They are all very interested in Hooksexup's proximity to the site of the World Trade Center. "Aren't people freaked out there?" asks one crewmember.
"Kind of," I tell them. "Everyone's wearing flags."
They swap glances and chuckle. "Maybe we should videotape girls' ankles and sell it to those Afghan fuckers!" says a pot-bellied cameraman. "That's porn to them!"
I catch Chelsea's eye and ask if I could talk to her.
"Be with you in a minute!" she trills, wiping Kyle's semen from her chest with a towel. Chelsea is twenty-two and has recently graduated from Bradford University with a degree in management. She tells me that her sister got her into the porn industry by putting her in touch with an adult film agent in England. An American affiliate then invited Chelsea to come work in the United States. "Porn's a lot different here," she tells me. "A lot more professional. In England, there will be a couple of guys and a video camera. A lot of money goes into films over here, and the people are really nice."
Chelsea has just become a Vivid girl, a handful of elite women who are the de facto superstars of the adult entertainment world. She only has to make seven movies and seven special appearances per year for her salary. Typically, non-contract girls earn money per scene and per activity. Facial come shots, anal scenes and D.P. (double penetration, anal and vaginal) all carry a higher price tag.
I ask Chelsea what it's like to have no control over who she has sex with in the course of her working day.
"If I don't find him or her attractive, it really puts me in a bad mood," she explains. "But once we get down to it, it's fine." Chelsea has a boyfriend from Louisiana that she met on Venice Beach. They plan to get married.
I ask her how he feels about her line of work.
"It hurts him . . . here," she says, dramatically placing both hands on her heart. "He hates the industry, but he loves and respects me enough to get past it. I was doing this before we met. It's my job, y' know?"
I see Shanahan and ask him about my scene.
"You'll be playing a convict," he says over his shoulder as he strides away.
"Well, did Ross Martin at Hooksexup tell you what I wanted to " I stutter.
"Ross Martin didn't tell me a goddamn thing." Shanahan walks into a room and closes the door behind him.
I walk up to the kitchen area where I find Kyle reading a book. "If you're gonna be in porn, you'd better like reading novels," he tells me sagely. I've already made up my mind that I am not going to be in porn.
"I've done this for about fifteen years, but lately the calls have been getting fewer and farther between," he mournfully admits. He explains that, up until two years ago when Viagra came on the market, only a handful of men could maintain a successful career in hardcore pornography. Kyle is relatively short, positively nerdy and his penis is within the normal size range. His real value lies in the ability to keep his penis hard for hours upon hours. "It's harder than you'd think!" he puns.
Kyle refuses to use Viagra or penis injections, a physical crutch many other porn stars rely upon. "I'm convinced that those guys are going to have serious health problems in the years to come," he says. "But in the meantime, they're making a living and I'm not doing so well but we'll see. People ask me why I don't use pills or shoot up to keep wood and I say, 'Hey, I'm old-fashioned. I like girls!'"
Kyle tells me that he has never had a serious relationship with a woman. "It's really too much to ask of anyone," he confides. Conversely, all of the female actors seem to be attached.
flew in to save your life. Get nasty with it. Spit on it Chels, don't be shy. Great, now say something real nasty."
makeup and shopping, while the men talk about their recent purchases of gas masks, water filters and automatic weapons in response to the September 11th attacks. They are all very interested in Hooksexup's proximity to the site of the World Trade Center. "Aren't people freaked out there?" asks one crewmember.
Chelsea has a boyfriend from Louisiana that she met on Venice Beach. They plan to get married.
