This was back when VCA was in the business of making big budget features, before Larry Flynt bought them out. Basically, it was a restaurant scene with me, the contract girl Chloe, the crew of 2 dozen people (grips, boom mike guy, two camera men, director, and video tech behind monitors, the “c-light” guy whose job is to hover a light near the “action” to make sure its well-lit), AND a dozen civilian (non porn) extras sitting at various tables for atmosphere surrounding Chloe and me. Not what I expected!
At that point, aside from girlfriends, and my mom, the only others I’ve been naked in front of was my doctor, and God. I’m not going to lie, I was scared shitless. A lot of us here fight, or have fought MMA, so you’ll know all about the adrenaline dump you get just before you gotta throw down. I’m the guy that runs to the bathroom a million times, while listening to my iPod, trying to calm down. Everyone has a different way of dealing with it. Point is….
Imagine yourself trying to get an erection with the adrenaline dump. Lol, talk about performance anxiety.
Hell
I’m dressed as a waiter, waiting off camera for my cue, sweaty palms, cotton mouth in full effect, murdering myself with viciously negative inner monologue, and doubt…
“What if I’m too small and she laughs…what if I pop to soon, what if I forget my lines, what if the extras laugh, what the hell does “open up for the camera” mean, shit, a table? How the hell is that going to work? I’m 200 lbs, Ill snap it., SHIT… that’s Randy fuckin’ Spears! I can’t compare to him! Is Randy looking at me? That’s kinda weird!…WHAT IF I CANT GET IT UP!”
Chloe is at her table, delivering dialogue to another girl, who after a short exchange, gets up, and leaves the table.That’s my cue! The PA gives me the nod, so I walk over to the table.
DEAD MAN WALKING.
As soon as I step under the lights, I noticed the temp is easily 20 degrees warmer. I truly was in hell after all!
I deliver my dialogue at Mach 5 staring at my shoes. Apparently that was good enough (hey, its porn after all) because the next thing I know, she is undoing my pants, and reveals….
Mr. Softee!
The next 20 minutes seemed like a year that would never end. So after stroking it long enough to get semi hard (humiliating in front of civilians that probably thought I was a tool, and rightfully so.), when the cameras were off I weakly said I was ready. As soon as the cameras were back on, I wilted again. This repeated 3 times, and even if there were fluffers (thing of the past), it wouldn’t have mattered… I had a hot girl right in front of me. Each time, I could tell the crew was getting more and more pissed.
This was not hell, it was…
Purgatory
So the director, who has seen it all hands me a stack of magazines, told me to go off set away from everyone else, jerk off, and come back when I’m ready. “I can do that. I’ve jerked off a million times.” I said to myself. When I come back to set, I was convinced I would be ready.
So I flip thru the selection of magazines…”Juggs”, “Black Tail”.. I go with “Jugs”.
3 (Three, III) strokes into working up my wood…I POP IN MY HAND! I wanted the Earth to swallow me up! I was FUCKED!
Option a) Man up, go on set, and fess up, and own up to me blowing the day’s shooting.
Option b) Calculate the trajectory so that if I jump out the 2nd floor bathroom window and roll on impact, would I be ok.
Hmmm.
My ID’s were in the production managers pocket on set, and I was wearing a shirt, and no pants (on set as well). Running around Downtown LA with a shirt and no pants is only cute if you are named Winnie the Pooh.
I went back and faced the music…
Tagged: Creative Memoir, Short Story
