Going Down in La-La Land (14 page)

I took his complaints very personally since as the cameraman I was somewhat proud of my last-minute work. After all, the video was in part an artistic vision of mine.

“
The poor guy,” I said sarcastically. “Some people just can’t be pleased. Everybody’s a critic.”

After the filming the vampire video we caught camcorder fever for the next few days. Candy wanted to audition as one of the “clue crew” on
Jeopardy.
I thought the tape we made of Candy was cute, especially when she gave a clue about the Eiffel Tower while speaking some French and tossing a beret in the air. She would have been great giving clues on TV alongside Alex Trebek. Unfortunately she never heard back.

We videotaped each other for
Survivor,
setting up her house plants to create a faux jungle and stating how far we’d go to win.

“
Survivor
is nothing compared to opening day at Barney’s Warehouse sale!” Candy roared into the camera lens. “If I can come out of there alive with four pair of Jimmy Choo heels and a choice Gucci wrap dress, then I can survive anything!” And with that she stabbed her umbrella at her silk oriental rug as though it were a spear.

I don’t know that either of us would have lasted long on a deserted island or in the Australian Outback. Not that we weren’t physically tough enough, but the other contestants most likely would have conspired together to vote off two eccentric nutcases like ourselves before the plane even landed.

“
I still don’t know why you are not doing stand-up,” I said after putting the camera down.

“
You know, Adam, other people wouldn’t get my humor,” she sighed. “I’m funny when I’m going off to you, when I’m not thinking about it. If I tried to do it on stage, I’d bomb and make a jackass of myself.”

Then after a sudden jump where she sprang up on her toes and spun around ballerina style, Candy pronounced in a singsong voice “Only you can appreciate my humor, Adam!”

“
That’s what frightens me,” I muttered under my breath.

Given the state of my financial affairs and my work environment, it was bound to happen sooner or later. The time for me to copulate with another man in front of the camera was looming.

“
You talk to Ron?” Dale asked me one afternoon while passing through the warehouse.

I shook my head no. Ron was trying to hook me up with more “clients,” but I was trying not to appear overly desperate. Ron just wasn’t the kind of guy you wanted to appear in a vulnerable spot with. He’d take advantage of it any which way he could.

“
You know we’re shooting another video in a week, right?”

I knew where this was going. Ron had been hinting at wanting me in his new production for days now. I just didn’t want to go that far. Everything I had done to this point had been me alone, solo. That was bad enough. But others had moved beyond it. Even that kid Simon Rex made a solo jerk-off video and managed to go on to an acting career. Yet sex on film with another guy, or two guys, or three guys, or more—I had never heard of anybody going on to do something in the public eye after that.

“
You’ve got gorgeous model looks, why let them go to waste?” Dale joked, trying to lighten things up.

“
No thanks,” I answered curtly. “I plan on performing in front of cameras again, but not that kind of performing and not in front of HUNG Video’s cameras.”

“
Yeah you and a million others,” Dale shot back sarcastically. “Look, Adam, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but I’m sure you’ve heard Dionne Warwick sing it,
all the stars that never were are parking cars.
And for a gay guy, you’ve got to get real. The odds of you breaking into acting are nil to nothing. As far as this ever coming back to haunt you, take it from me, there is so much fucking porn out there. Not just zillions of videos, but Web sites, magazines, you name it. So what if somebody sees you? You tell them the truth—you were on your last cent and needed the money, pure and simple.”

Those had been my thoughts exactly regarding the solo stuff.

“
Ain’t that the truth,” I mumbled.

“
Besides,” Dale was now heated and worked up, “I don’t understand the fucking stigma anyway. It’s not like we’re robbing people or hurting people; we are all adults doing what all adults do. At least you’ll look damn good doing it, which is more than most people! Fuck, most people couldn’t even do this if they wanted to, unless it was some amateur or fat fetish thing. And nothing’s forever anyway. Traci Lords was doing this before she was eighteen, and she got out of it and is doing fabulous. And whatever happens, you’ll do fabulous too!”

I took a deep breath and smiled. The perspective he put it in made it sound okay, like it wasn’t the end of the world and I wasn’t slipping into oblivion.

“
Well,” I said gently, “if I do it, and I’m only saying if, I’m sure I’ll feel better about it with you directing.”

“
And I take that as quite a compliment coming from big talking, smart alec Adam,” he laughed, then playfully picked up the blow-dryer and turned it on my face.

“
Watch it!” I laughed, grabbing the end. He turned it off and we both held it for a minute, gazing at each other again and smiling.

That same day Ron had approached me in the stockroom and asked me in his flat Dave of Wendy’s voice, “Dale tells me you’ve changed your mind about being in our next video. Is that true?”

“
Yeah,” I answered. “He did a little convincing.”

“
Great!” Ron yelped, slapping me on the back.

“
What better way to make money?” he winked. “I can’t think of any!” he chortled and walked off.

A lot of better ways to make money came to mind, but with not with my useless degree and pathetic resumé.

The next day Ron came into the warehouse more excited than the day before.

“
We’ve secured Missy to direct our film!” Ron said excitedly. “This is the big time. No better way for you to start out.”

I had no idea who he was talking about. It sounded like the name of someone’s pet cat.

“
Missy?” I asked.

“
Yeah, Missy Manhandler!” Ron repeated, expecting the name to register with me. I just looked at him blankly. “Come on, you’ve had to have heard of Missy.”

I picked up the phone and called Dale in a panic.

“
Why didn’t you tell me a girl was directing the shoot? How do you expect me to fuck a guy in front of a girl and not feel funny about it? I thought you would direct me!” I asked angrily.

“
What the
hell
are you talking about bud?” Dale asked, bewildered.

“
Ron said that the shoot is going to be directed by some bitch named Missy is what I’m talking about!” I snapped impatiently.

“
Oh Lord,” Dale snickered on the end of the phone.

“
How is that so funny? I’d rather have you direct the first time!” I fumed.

“
Babe, Missy is no woman. Missy is an enormous drag queen,” Dale explained.

“
Oh. All right,” I answered entirely confused.

“
But don’t worry. She won’t be in drag during the shoot,” Dale laughed.

“
I assumed you would be directing,” I said.

“
Nope. Not this time, as much as I’d love to. When Ron secures a big name like Missy, it’s a real coup. It’s a compliment toward you, being that Missy is the top director in gay porn right now and wants you in her movie. Besides, I have my hands full with editing work. Don’t worry though. I’ll get to directing you soon enough. Look, I gotta go now. Everything will be fine. You’ll have a lot of fun. Just relax. Later.”

And with that he hung up the phone.

Things were just getting weirder and weirder.

Eventually the day for my all-out porn debut arrived. I decided to go by the name Adam Zee. I felt that if someone recognized me, it was better to own up to it than have an entirely bogus name like Sam Strong or something like that. For me that was almost like owning up to being embarrassed or having something to hide.

The video was titled
Bobby Steelhard’s Hollywood Garage,
Bobby Steelhard being the big star of the video. The shoot was to take place in the San Fernando Valley, the porn capital of the country, at an address in North Hollywood to be exact. The call time was 10 a.m., and when I arrived made extra sure to read every freaking street sign in sight, not wanting to add yet another parking ticket to my extensive collection. The building itself was an actual garage, complete with a car on a lift and tools strewn all over the place. A few guys were milling around, getting things prepared. After introducing myself to them they directed me to the back of the place, where there was an office, kitchen, bathroom, and a makeup room. My guess was that this place had been used as a set many times before.

Sitting down at what looked like a kitchen table was a heavyset man. He had really beautiful shiny chestnut hair, on the longer side, cut in feathery layers. He wore glasses and had an attractive face, showing a nice smile with great teeth.

“
You must be Adam,” he said in a chipper voice.

“
That would be me,” I smiled.

“
I’m Missy. But you can call me Tommy on the set!” he winked.

I immediately felt comfortable with him and we began making small talk and joking with each other.

From there it was onto the makeup artist, a skinny guy with bleached locks and lots of tattoos.
Wow,
I thought.
This shoot had a makeup artist. At least I wasn’t doing low-budget gay porn.

The makeup guy looked like he partied way, way too hard for much too long. But like Tommy, he was cool as well.

While working on me the makeup maestro proudly showed off pictures of himself dressed up in bizarre drag meets bondage getups for some weird fetish magazine that I could hardly believe someone actually printed, or that people actually paid for.

“
And don’t you love that shot? Hot, isn’t it?” he asked enthusiastically.

“
Yeah, it’s great,” I lied, staring at a picture of him in black latex bustier, safety pins clipped to his flesh, and his head pulled back and gagged with a huge knot.

We continued to talk about idle crap while he worked on cleaning up my pubic area. Having someone shave your pubes all nice and neat was something that didn’t happen every day. The guy just kept carrying on conversation like he had done this hundreds of times, which was very possible.

“
Okay, let’s take a look at your asshole!” he announced nonchalantly, as though he were ordering coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts.

I guess my chute didn’t look too swell, as he had to do a little bit of extra trimming down there.

When that was all over I left the makeup room and went back to the garage to have some still shots taken. Along the way I met my costar, Paul Powers. This was the one thing I was little nervous about; I was so hoping he wouldn’t be a jerk, have bad breath, or something that might make this really experience unpleasant. Having one bad thing to brood about could make this event a lot worse, and how I choose to look at it was a matter of perception. I could perceive my porn debut as fun and money or that I had hit a new low in life. And I was going to think the former rather than latter as I was in no state of mind to delve further into depression.

I had seen Paul Powers before, on some video boxes. I remembered what he looked like when asking for details about the shoot, so knew ahead of time that I wouldn’t have to have sex with someone revolting.

Actually I found him pretty damn hot and was looking forward to getting dirty with him. Paul was good-looking with sandy blond hair and eyes a gorgeous color of blue green. His body was well built and tan. Somehow it made it better being paid to have sex in front of the camera with someone I would have slept with for nothing.

Although Paul certainly didn’t come across as the sharpest tack, he was friendly and very complimentary, obviously looking forward to fornicating with me as well. Now I was completely at ease with my surroundings and able to come up with a big boner for the photographer.

When we were finished I walked to the back displaying my raging hard-on, feeling a little cocky.

“
Look at you, all raring and ready to go!” Tommy’s jolly voice boomed.

He brought me back down to earth though when he told me not to tan in the bathing suit I had been wearing.

“
Wear some Calvins instead, honey. That tan line makes your ass look funny, like it’s not there at all,” he said with the brutal honesty only a drag queen possesses.

Soon it was time to get the show on the road. This first scene was strictly oral, no anal intercourse. It was set up in the bathroom at the front of the garage. In reality one place I would never have sex in real life would be a public restroom. The concept of wanting to fornicate where strangers piss and shit was foreign to me. But in pornos it seemed to be a popular spot to get it on, so whatever.

Before the scene Tommy pulled me aside and asked spastically, “Do you like to eat ass? If not, no problem. Paul loves doing it. He can chow down for hours.”