Girlvert: A Porno Memoir (12 page)

Chapter Eighteen

A Weekend in Vegas

“L
et’s
get out of town for the weekend. How about Vegas? We deserve it! Just a couple of nights. Do you want to?” Tyler asked while we were driving around Hollywood one afternoon. We were feeling inspired because we had actually gotten up and out of our apartment before noon. It was one of those electric summer days; anything was possible, potential could be felt with every movement.

I didn’t need much persuasion. Sure, we did deserve a trip to Las Vegas! Feeling
porno riche
came with its own special sense of entitlement. I was doing scenes several times a week. We definitely had the money. We partied at home and out on the town almost every night. It was time for us to relax and take an overdue vacation in the most debauched city on the planet.

Tyler’s convertible Mustang had been stolen a couple weeks before our road trip. He was feeling sad about the loss, so we rented another one to drive to Vegas, wild cherry-red with a tan leather top. It was already a hundred degrees when we started east on the 10 Freeway. I had on a pink bikini and Tyler was shirtless, the top down to get some sun. Ken and Barbie’s estranged porno cousins had a weekend to kill.

Tyler and I bought an eight ball and ten extra ecstasy pills for relaxation. I booked a room at the Luxor. We called up our friends to tell them about our last-minute getaway. It was going to be a great party! Our dear pals Nelson and Hannah could meet us there. They would also bring a new girl named Carmelita, a bronze beauty from Brazil. Another couple, Cait and Jeff—the duo from the swinger party, who’d entered our circle of friends—would end up coming, too. My sexy boyfriend and I were the coolest people alive. At a second’s notice, we were going to Vegas for the weekend to party with a group of attractive friends, and my shallow heart was complete.

Tyler had a crush on Nelson and Hannah. He was completely smitten with Hannah’s vast beauty, and he looked up to Nelson for his keen business sense. Nelson and Hannah had just started an adult talent agency. They asked me if I would like to be one of the first girls to join. Nelson had been steadily hooking me up with porno work since we first met. I already felt like he was acting as my agent, and we’d all become close. I trusted him completely. We’d been going to parties and dinner with Nelson and Hannah for months. We had a sexual encounter at their apartment. The men initiated all of it, of course. Hannah and I remained mutually indifferent to the sex between the four of us—it was unnecessary.

Everyone else was staying at Mandalay Bay. Nelson wanted to have dinner at some Brazilian churrascaria at the MGM Grand. Nobody wanted to argue with him, because Nelson always won. Nelson had rented a big black Mercedes. He had an affinity for fine things like jewelry and foreign cars. He was a total snob with a taste for expensive clothes and cheap women. Nothing made him happier than being surrounded by fake tits and bleached blonde hair. It didn’t matter to Tyler and me where we ate. I never planned on eating a thing in Vegas. Coke, pills, and booze were the only nourishment we needed. Carmelita didn’t like coke, but she always adored taking ecstasy. Tyler kept hounding her to try cocaine with him, but she refused. He always wanted people to give coke a chance. He couldn’t fathom the thought of a human being that was unable to benefit from all the drug had to offer. I think Carmelita wanted to, if only for Tyler. He shamelessly flirted with her, touched her, and told her how sexy she was. Tyler was going to initiate sex with her, inevitably, and he would probably want me to be part of it. It was just a matter of time.

Leaving our plates of uneaten food at the restaurant, Tyler and I wandered to a vodka bar in the MGM casino. Carmelita and Hannah came with me to the bathroom to swallow their ecstasy tabs. The pills were small, red, and had little clovers stamped on the backs. I tried to shove mine in the back of my throat before swallowing. They tasted of chemical vomit. Carmelita and Hannah made sick faces as they got theirs down. Our entire party had migrated into the bar and we joined them for drinks. Nelson and Tyler took some pills at the bar. Mine was already kicking in. I looked at Hannah and Carmelita, and could see they were feeling it too. I could barely stand up. I leaned against the wall and Tyler pulled me back up. He wasn’t worried, because I was smiling. It made him feel good to know just how potent his pill was going to be.

Hannah, Carmelita, and I meandered back into the bathroom. This time our steps were loose and all over the place. We slid our hands over the walls to guide us to the sinks in the restroom, smiles branded on each of our lips. The trademark melty look was beginning to form in our eyes. Carmelita turned toward the trash can and said, “Oh god!” She opened her mouth and vomit shot out. All of the Brazilian meat was poured into the waste bin. My jaw tightened. She looked up at us and let go of the trashcan. “I’m fine, babes. I feel nice!” Carmelita had a seductive Portuguese accent with a British inflection.

Cait and Jeff knew about a club we could go to. It was off the strip, a place called Whispers. We could have gone anywhere and partied in style and comfort, but Cait and Jeff were hardcore swingers. Apparently, before they left for the trip, they scoured their online swinger message boards for a place to visit in Vegas.

Because swinger clubs are like raves, in that they move locations every night, finding Whispers was going to be a scavenger hunt. Seven people wouldn’t fit in one cab, so Cait went with Tyler and me. Carmelita, Hannah, Jeff, and Nelson followed in another cab.

“It’s called Whispa’s. It’s not on Las Vegas Boulevard,” Cait told the driver. “It’s off the strip.” She was from Down Under and had a sexy accent, too. All four girls in our group were totally different and exotic in our own ways. My ecstasy was in full effect and I was thinking only of positive things because of it.

Whispa’s was definitely off the strip. The cabs pulled into a dark, empty lot in some industrial area. The building on the lot had a portable classroom look. There was no foundation. It was an oversized trailer. We might as well have been in San Bernardino. We got out and made our way up the handicapped ramp that led to the door. I took one last look at the cabs, hoping they wouldn’t stray too far.

I was still in denial that Tyler and I were swingers. A bulk of what we’d been doing at the time was hanging out with swingers and going to swinger clubs. Sometimes, we had sex with swingers. That didn’t make me one, I told myself, because it didn’t happen too frequently. I played the part when I needed to, but I still would have preferred to go to a normal, non-sex club. Tyler was the one who wanted sex from everyone. Not me. I got my fill of getting fucked by multiple men on film, and I enjoyed it. The porn fulfilled my every need to be sexually depraved. But Tyler couldn’t get enough from porno. He always wanted more.

We were all dressed up for the night. Cait wore a catholic schoolgirl outfit, with fishnets and hooker heels. The rest of us girls looked sexy, but we were not in costume. Being the only non-porno girl in our group, Cait wanted to look like a porn star for the evening. In real life, she worked for the New Zealand Board of Tourism. She was a government official!

There was a dance floor with a stripper pole in the middle. Carmelita made a beeline for the pole. Couches lined the walls. Tyler and I found some barstools to lean on while Hannah, Nelson, Cait, and Jeff walked through a beaded doorway. There was a back room. The place was completely dark, except for black lights lining the bar area and dance floor. A disco ball acted as the Polaris.

My pupils had enlarged to the size of silver dollars. I took another pill with Tyler at the bar. Whispers could only be tolerated with the help of more drugs. I didn’t want to dance, so I led Tyler through the beaded doorway and into the back room. It was covered with wall-to-wall mirrors. This room was even darker than the main area and had a black bed-like platform to lie down on. Nelson had his clothes on and was fucking Hannah doggy style. Cait was topless and sucking Jeff’s cock. Tyler looked at them and then at me. He had a bloodthirsty smile on his mouth. I got a nudge in my shoulder, telling me to have a seat on the rubber mattress. I sat on the edge, stiffly. Tyler reached to feel Hannah’s boobs and smiled. He looked like some college kid from a beer commercial who was having a dream sequence.

I didn’t like ruining whatever fantasy he was about to live out, but I had to ditch him there. I pretended not to hear when he called to me as I left the back room. He could go ahead without me. I’d fucked on enough dirty mattresses in my porn scenes. I didn’t need to come all the way to Vegas to do it for fun.

Carmelita swayed to horrible hip-hop songs while holding onto the stripper pole. There weren’t many other options but to join her. I didn’t notice how much the room had filled up in the hour or so that we’d been there. Couples were pacing around everywhere. They held drinks and eyeballed us. Pairs of men and women huddled in corners and at tables, looking around and sizing up the scene. These people had come to hook up and swap partners for sex. Just being here meant you were fair game.

Others made their way into the back room. It got to be a little too weird for Tyler and the rest. Most of the crowd that had taken over Whispers was not so attractive. It was an older bunch. They were all middle-aged and tacky. These were the real swingers, like I had seen on
Real Sex
, not at all like the ones from the Hollywood Hills parties. Tyler grabbed me and put his arms around me. He looked around at the creepers that had just rolled in, feeling their eyes burning into the back of his skull. We were like feeder mice being dropped into an aquarium full of snakes. Someone tapped Tyler’s shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Craig and this is my wife.” A man with a silvering mustache was standing there with a wrinkly-faced woman. They just smiled and held their drinks. He didn’t say anything else to follow the introduction. We were supposed to know what he meant by it.

“Uh…” Tyler spoke for us. “Sorry, man. We’re not swingers.”

The guy and his wife looked confused and walked away. I threw my arms around Tyler and kissed him. I loved him more than ever in that moment. Finally, we weren’t swingers, and I considered it official.

We got into cabs, back to Mandalay Bay. Cait and Jeff were tired and wanted to sleep. Nelson retired to his room without saying goodnight. For the rest of us, the night was half empty. We had to fill it up with more partying. Hannah, Carmelita, Tyler, and I took some more pills and got into another cab.

“Take us to a party! Or to a club! Somewhere people are partying!” I yelled at the driver.

“And dancing!” Carmelita added.

“You don’t know where you want to go?” said the driver. He looked at us like we were idiots.

“Just go somewhere fun. We want to go to a party. I don’t care,” I told him. My friends and I cuddled in the backseat of the cab. They hugged me in approval.

“Uh, okay. There’s this place I dropped some people off a minute ago. That’s where they all like to go after hours. What are you guys on, anyway?” The cabbie scrutinized us in his rearview mirror.

“Ecstasy,” Tyler batted his eyelashes and replied in a low purr.

“Coke and ecstasy,” I corrected him. I was so sassy. We all looked at one another and laughed. “Why are you asking us that? Just take us to a party!” I was out of my mind. The cab was warm and we were warmer, a mini-spaceship flying through the desert night sky. My friends and I had left the planet Earth. Our destiny was unknown.

“Whatever. I only wanted to know because you all seem really high. I don’t touch any of that coke. It’s too expensive. Speed is where it’s at. You get a lot more for your money’s worth. It lasts longer. Coke is a waste of money, that’s all,” the cab driver shrugged.

I was too messed up to think about it too much. I didn’t have to defend a car full of drugged-out porno actors.

The place he dropped us at was absolutely disgusting—a tweaker den. We hassled through a crowd of scummy locals to get to the doorman. Hannah was not twenty-one. I’d turned twenty-one earlier that summer. Carmelita took care of Hannah’s problem by putting her arms around the bouncer’s waist and saying, “Please babe?” She hypnotized the guy. He led us through the crowd and put us in the elevator. Tyler handed him forty bucks for a tip.

The club was down in the basement of the Barbary Coast Hotel and Casino. It was one of the sleaziest places I’d ever been. We breathed in concentrated sweat and smoke. It was a hundred degrees of body odor and humidity. Drenched bodies moved to the loud noise of drum and bass. We could hardly get through the densely packed room. Everybody there was on speed. Tyler found us a place to sit at some guy’s table. The man had on sunglasses. His face was dripping, obviously from crystal meth. I watched his body jerk around, watched him chew on his own face.

I was starting to feel sick, with the heat and stuffiness of the club. But I couldn’t be miserable. My ecstasy pills would not allow me to feel anything but excitement. Taking her hand, I led Carmelita through the crowd to the restroom. As soon as there was a clearing, Carmelita opened her mouth and shot vomit all over the wall. I faced the other wall and blasted it with my own puke.

The bouncer quickly came over and grabbed each one of us by the shoulder. “All right. You’re out!” He led us toward the exit.

“No! Please! We’re fine! Please, let us stay!” I cried. It was so important for us to stay. I would rather have died than gotten kicked out of that awful shithole of a club.

Carmelita placed both hands on the bouncer’s hand. He was a big, pudgy guy with a soft face. Her nails lightly grazed the back of his hand as she looked up at him and pleaded, “Please, babe? Let us stay? Please?”

Who could say no to her pretty blue eyes and sad little brown face? Her voice was specially designed to speak to large men. The bouncer was merely another victim of her feminine powers. He took one look at her pleading smile and let go of us. “Okay, but keep it in your stomachs,” he warned.

Back at the table, Tyler was sniffing some of our coke. The tweaker in the sunglasses passed a bullet container to Tyler. He sniffed something out of it. I stuck to our stuff. Carmelita and I puked under the table a couple more times and laughed hysterically. Hannah looked on, moving to the blaring beats and inescapable sounds of electronica. Her eyes were half closed, either from the ecstasy or her hypoglycemia, or both. We couldn’t take it much longer. This place was shedding years off our lives. The smoky atmosphere clung to our biological tissues, a chemical sauna. It was time to climb out of the gas chamber.