Inside Seka - The Platinum Princess of Porn (33 page)

“We’re going out. Would you like to come with us?” he asked.

As I had nothing to do, I said, “Why not?” It was a group of his friends and his manager Elliot Abbott, a really nice man. He helped Penny Marshall put together
A League of Their Own
and was a big time agent.

We went out on the town in Chicago, hitting what felt like every nightspot. It was amazing how people flocked to him. Sam was very cordial to everyone, but he never neglected me that evening, which I found kind of refreshing. He wasn’t treating me like just another groupie. I didn’t mind that he wasn’t a traditionally attractive man. Looks were never a big thing to me anyway. I’d rather have a man who can hold a conversation. Sam had unbelievable charisma and was highly intelligent.

I ended up spending the night with him, and with Sam it was all sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I had certainly done my share of partying, as many of us had in the eighties, but this ex-preacher sure took things to a whole new level.

He stayed in town that week, with his next show scheduled four or five days later in Fort Lauderdale. Elliot asked if I wanted to go. “Sam really likes you. And he hasn’t felt like that towards someone in a long time.”

I figured, why not? It was a trip to Florida on someone else’s dime. Plus, there were a lot of drugs around.

I never did drugs as a kid. When I got married, Frank got me to try pot and I continued to smoke up once in a while, though I was never what you’d call a stoner. Hell, I never really liked to drink much. When I’d be booked for industry events and meet-and-greets, I’d force myself to hold a glass in order to fit in. I never knew what to order so I’d ask for a screwdriver. To this day, I hate those things. Eventually, I started to enjoy sunny morning mimosas when I was living in California and would lounge around on my days off by the pool and Jacuzzi. Later on, I learned to appreciate fine wine.

When I was on set, I was always straight as an arrow (my girl/girl scenes aside). I knew cocaine was becoming popular, but I never saw any being used at work because it would have screwed up filming and wasted precious time. In fact, I never tried it myself until after I’d stopped doing films and after I’d been asked about the topic before the Meese Commission. But like most others of my generation, I eventually gave it a try and liked it on occasion. But at this point in my life, it wasn’t a driving passion or hobby.

So we went to Florida and I was told to have my bags packed and Sam’s guys would take care of everything. I didn’t have to worry about checking in or anything. Sam did another spectacular show, which led to another spectacular evening of partying and drinking. That was a continuous thing.

We were told after the show to pack a bag for a couple of days, leave the rest of the stuff at the hotel, as we were going on vacation to a beautiful little island called Cat Cay right outside of Florida. It sounded like fun, but this was where reality started to set in.

He suddenly demanded, “Put my stuff in a bag.” I didn’t like being spoken to like that, but let it roll off my back, figuring he was springing for everything. Besides, he just wore a t-shirt, sweat pants, tennis shoes, an overcoat, and a hat anyway. It wasn’t like there was a lot of packing to do.

As we headed out, I noticed everyone was getting a little edgy because they couldn’t bring their stash, since Cat Cay was technically outside the U.S. But knowing that everyone was going to want their drugs, and having big boobs like I do, I put about fifty Quaaludes under one breast, and about a half ounce of cocaine under the other. Nobody knew I had it, but I figured they’d want it and I was doing them a favor.

I put on a tiny little bikini to distract the agents. It worked like a charm. We got on the boat with no problem.

The island was small and quaint, with the natives quite friendly. There was one restaurant and the only transportation was little golf carts. I thought it would be a very relaxing couple of days.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. When we got in the room, Sam was already going, “God damn it, nobody’s holding!”

I said, “Hold on a minute, Sam.”

I lifted up my top and out dropped the drugs.

He just went wild. “Oh my God, how did you do it?”

“It’s easy when you have boobs like this.”

All was right in the world.

We went to the restaurant and they had this local cocktail that was just amazing, and we were flat out wasted from it. We asked them to make us up a batch of it. They made up eight or nine half-gallon milk jugs filled with this stuff, which I called the Cat Cay Kitty.

After dinner, we all grabbed our jugs, hopped on our golf carts, and went crazy zipping around the island. We decided to go skinny dipping, swimming nude at night with absolutely no fear. Who knew there were sharks there?

Crashing several carts in the jungle area, we basically wrecked and abandoned them. We ended up lying on the beach naked, which wasn’t a pretty sight for most involved.

Over the rest of our vacation we slept, partied, and even squeezed in some deep sea fishing. It was quite a couple of days.

It seemed to me we had become boyfriend and girlfriend, since he asked me to come to his next gig in Vancouver. “I really want you to come. You don’t have to worry about anything. You don’t have to pay for anything. I haven’t liked anyone like you for a long time. It would make my day if you came along.” In spite of his religious background, he loved the fact I was an adult star. He had seen a lot of my movies and was a fan.

On the way to Sam’s next gig, our limo was driven to a private Learjet. That was the preferred mode of transportation for Sam, as it was the least amount of hassle. It couldn’t have been planned better, with the door of the limo opening almost simultaneously with the jet’s door. I was like, “Wow,” and not a lot of things impress me.

Sam did his show in a 12,000-seat venue and we were right back to partying like rock stars. Lines of cocaine on every coffee table in the suite. And Quaaludes. It was like those were the snacks. I was surprised there weren’t butlers with silver trays passing them around. We had a line of cocaine, half a Quaalude, and a cocktail just to start the evening, which we called a “rocktail.” I have to admit, it was fun.

After Vancouver we were told to pack a day bag. But getting Sam out of bed was an absolute chore. He was not a very willing participant. I rolled him over and said, “Get your ass out of bed and get dressed now!” I had to lay his clothes out for him like a kid, but that wasn’t too difficult since he always wore the same thing. I was told Sam had become my responsibility as far as getting him dressed and ready.

We piled into another limo and were taken to this absolutely drop dead gorgeous yacht. We were going boating for the afternoon. There were fifteen or twenty people there. I thought they had rented it, but the actual owners were there. I was talking to a pleasant gentleman about music. This was around when “We Are the World” was out. I told him an Earth, Wind, and Fire tune I loved was much better and would be a more appropriate anthem. Interrupting the conversation, I asked him, “Do you happen to know where the lady’s room is?” He gave me directions and I walked into this huge private state room. It was comparable to a beautiful hotel suite. The entire back of the bed was lined with Grammy awards.

I’m not normally a nosey person, but I looked at them, and they were all made out to Earth, Wind, and Fire. He didn’t tell me he was Maurice White, the founder and leader of the band. When I came back out I laughed and said to him, “Are you amused with yourself?”

He said, “That was probably the nicest compliment I’ve ever heard.”

Sam loved Baileys on the rocks and Saki. Back at the hotel, Sam was downing a ton of Saki. We were all partying again and I knew we had to go to Seattle the next day. We partied until the wee hours of the morning, but I was trying simultaneously to pack. We had new hundred dollar bills for each line of cocaine we were doing. God forbid we should use the same one.

I went around the room afterwards, picking up hundred dollar bills, wiping the cocaine off, and straightening them out. There had to be four or five thousand dollars in my hand. I walked over to Sam and he said, “Are you fucking crazy?”

“What do you mean?”

He said, “Keep it.”

“But it’s your money…”

“Just keep it.”

He didn’t have to ask me again.

Sam woke up in a gnarly mood. We went from limos, jets, and yachts to a beat-up old station wagon for a short ride to Seattle. But getting him up was a nightmare.

“Leave me alone. I want to sleep.”

I got all the bags together and set them outside the room. “Sam, come on. We’ve got to go. You can sleep in the car.” He put a pillow on my lap and slept the whole ride down.

We didn’t have to leave the hotel to get to the venue. There was a servant’s area that led backstage. But it was about five minutes before show time and he was still sleeping. This was becoming a real job. Well paid, but a pain in the butt. When you’re in two hotels a day and partying like a rock star, people are going to be grumpy. But when Sam got vicious, he’d curse like nobody’s business. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, bitch; can’t you see I’m sleeping?”

Not very nice.

I felt obligated to everyone else to get him where he had to go, but I was pissed off because he was ungrateful I was actually helping him keep his career on track. I finally got him up, dressed, and had him brush his teeth. Everybody was looking at me. They were all nervous and sweating. It was literally thirty seconds before the show and the place was packed. He pulled himself together, walked out, and brought the house down.

Standing there next to Elliot, I said, “I want to quit now.”

“It is taxing, isn’t it?” he said, laughing in relief.

I said, “My tenure is done.”

All of a sudden in the middle of the show I heard Sam calling me out. He was standing in the middle of the stage waiting for me.

“Elliot, I don’t want to do this.”

But I wasn’t going to humiliate Sam by leaving him just standing there. So we do this little back and forth off the cuff, and I’m holding my own with him. The fans liked me, too, and people were standing up screaming my name. I think Sam was jealous because I had popped the crowd and they kept screaming for me even after I left the stage. So he started yelling back at the crowd, “Shut up! The bitch is gone.” He wasn’t a happy camper that I had stolen his spotlight.

We were going back to L.A. right after the show on another private jet. He was still grumpy, sleepy, and of course had done too much drugs and alcohol. Not too many words were exchanged between us because he was pissed off. We were flying into John Wayne Airport. He kept asking me for cocaine and Quaaludes and I didn’t have any. Hell, we had used them all up. He had a bottle of Baileys in one hand and a cup of ice in another. I didn’t like his attitude so I just tried to get some sleep and ignore him.

When we got off the plane, Sam suddenly started screaming at me. He was yelling in Sam Kinison fashion how I had woken him up and there were no more drugs. He was coming down, and coming down from drugs is a terrifying experience and not a pretty picture.

I grabbed my suitcase and was trying to get it over to the side where I could call a taxi just to get away from the whole scene. But he kept dragging one of my bags and pulling it away from me. Meanwhile, he had me cornered next to a pay phone, screaming in my face, “You ungrateful bitch!”

Fed up, I looked at him and said, “Eat shit and die, Sam.”

He grabbed the suitcase and told me he was keeping it.

“I just want to get away from you. Keep it.”

I got a cab and went to my friend’s house to try to regroup and figure out how to get my other suitcase. I was so exhausted I probably slept for two days.

When I finally reached Sam, he told me to come to his house and get the bag. Now he seemed to be in a perfectly good mood. Billy Idol and his girlfriend were there and obviously Sam had gotten his “medication.” He apologized for being an asshole and I said, “Look Sam, I’m staying with friends and I need to go back to Chicago.”

He sounded like a little kid when he asked, “But will you see me again?”

I said, “Yes, if you behave yourself.”

I didn’t hear from him for a month or so.

Sam had been on
Saturday Night Live
and they went ballistic because he didn’t stick to the script. But he got such a great response from the fans that they wanted him back. I got a call from Elliot and he asked me, “How would you like to be on
Saturday Night Live
with Sam?”

Sam had demanded me or else he wasn’t going to do the show. I think it was his way of apologizing. They must have wanted him badly enough because it was a go.

Everybody was very nice and extremely pleased with me because I did exactly what they wanted. I acted like a total professional, getting there on time and seizing the opportunity. My part was to feed Sam grapes along with the Church Lady. I was in a sexy nightgown and they obviously wanted to exploit my popularity. The audience found the contrast between me and Dana Carvey in drag hilarious. It was a great moment. I also came out at the end with the entire cast. I was shocked to hear Don Pardo announce, “We had another wonderful show having Sam Kinison back, but the best part of the show was having Seka on.”