Girlvert: A Porno Memoir (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kris and Randa

I
had
already met Kris. Kris was a photographer for hardcore sex shots and porno girls’ glamour photos. He did the stills for some teen movie I was in. He’d asked me for my phone number, and I told him I had a boyfriend. He wanted it anyway, to hire me for something to be shot for his website. I gave him the number and thought nothing more about it. Later that day, Kris called my cell while I was with Tyler.

His voice was happy and nonthreatening. “I want to shoot you for this side project I’m doing. It’s for my website and it’s a POV blowjob scene, with me. We can do it at my house later tonight, if you can make it. I pay cash, two hundred bucks, same day.”

My face must have gone from pleasant to disgust right away. Tyler watched me and wondered who I was talking to. “Kris? Hold on a second,” I said and clasped my hand over the receiver.

“Who is that?” Tyler’s face was serious and his back straightened up. He was being jealous and protective, and I loved it.

“It’s this guy that I gave my number to for work. He said he wants to shoot me tonight at his house, for a POV blowjob. He said he’d pay me in cash.”

“Tell him no. I don’t want some guy we don’t even know having you come to his house and blow him. No way!”

Inside my chest, my heart was melting from Tyler’s show of dominance. He’d almost always had a change of heart when cash was mentioned.

“Hello, Kris? I’m sorry. I can’t. I don’t do POV scenes anymore. It’s too weird. If there’s anything else in the future, give me a call. Alright, take care. Bye.”

When Tyler met Kris for himself, his tune changed. Kris was shooting stills on a set where Tyler had a gig fucking. They hit it off big time. Tyler had a new male crush. Every chance he had, Tyler would call him up to hang out or just chat. Tyler was no longer concerned about me doing a POV with Kris.

Tyler and I stayed in a motel room with Kris and his girlfriend, Randa, when we met up to go to Coachella again. This time it was without Desiree, who stayed home in Houston. Everyone would be too fucked up to drive the three hours back to Los Angeles, so we crashed in Palm Springs for the night. At the show, we did some ecstasy and coke together in one of the electronic music tents, where Kris introduced us to Randa. She was really skinny, but not in a fashionable way. There was nothing fashionable about her. She had on baggy nylon ski pants and a tank top. Her sandals were more mountain-climber than cute. This chick did not seem like Kris’s type at all.

Kris was six foot four and very fair. His shoulders were broad and he had long limbs. His size made him attractive. Everything on him was gigantic to me. His eyes were an arctic blue. I kept my distance. I stayed close to Tyler at all times.

After the show, Tyler and I followed Kris’s directions to their motel on a drunk-driving journey down Highway 111. Thank god for the cocaine. The motel was called the Hotel California. It was a grimy, rundown, Spanish-style parking lot-villa that had its charm at two in the morning. Tyler was thrilled to be there with people doing drugs, people like us. Kris and Randa were older than Tyler and me. They did more drugs than even we did. Randa held out a little bullet vial and offered it to Tyler. It was Special K. We had never done that stuff. Ketamine. But we didn’t hesitate to try it.

Kris and Randa preached the gospel of Special K. I thought it was just used as a cat tranquilizer, but they informed me differently. It was used in hospitals, on babies, to soothe them, as well as grown people. I soaked up all of their bullshit as fast as they could dish it. We stayed up all night in that motel room in Palm Springs. The next morning, the four of us checked out, but the party wasn’t over. Randa wanted to go to a spa. She’d looked it up online at home and had the directions with her. No one objected.

Tyler and I jumped in his new car, a brand new V8 black convertible Mustang, his dream machine. I put up most of the down payment for him, five thousand dollars. He promised he would make the monthly payments on it. I wasn’t stupid enough to cosign. Tyler was still Tyler, no matter how much porno money we made.

Kris took a nap at the spa. He’d rented a room for half the day. He was cranky and needed to rest. He got mad at Randa for staying up and doing coke and K instead of sleeping with him. I wanted to leave as soon as possible, but Tyler was out of his mind and wanted to bond with Randa over the Ketamine. It was uncomfortable to be there as Kris’s mood deteriorated. He sulked, saturating the room with his misery. He and Randa began yelling. It was loud and clear that they had problems. Tyler and I could relate.

After Coachella, Tyler couldn’t get enough of Kris, his new number-one guy. The three of us went to dinner and to the Zwan concert at the Wiltern. Then we stayed up and did cocaine and Special K at another friend’s house. There wasn’t a time we socialized without drugs. It was a given that we would at least be doing coke, if not more than that.

Kris, Tyler and I took a separate trip to Palm Springs one weekend. Kris didn’t tell Randa about it at all. It wasn’t shocking. Ever since we got to know Kris, he told us about how unhappy he was in his relationship. Kris complained about Randa constantly. She didn’t work. She didn’t clean. She did too many drugs. She stole his drugs. She was a liar. She was too skinny. She went out without him. She did speed. She didn’t contribute. They had been living together for six years and were tentatively engaged. There wasn’t a date set for a wedding, because he had serious doubts. It was all too familiar to me. I still hadn’t told Tyler of my mixed feelings about our own engagement. Randa was making an attempt to become a television actress. The only effort she seemed to be making was by asking Kris for headshots. When Kris vented about Randa, his face got dark.

The most disturbing thing Kris told us was that Randa accused him of physical abuse. Kris told us first, before Randa could spin it her way. He wanted to defend himself and explain the situation. She made him so angry that Kris pushed Randa and shoved her into a wall during a rage. He didn’t hit her, but she called it abuse. I didn’t know what to say or think of all this. It was their relationship, not mine. I barely knew them. I didn’t want to know their secrets.

I couldn’t worry about Kris and Randa. I had my own issues with Tyler’s growing temper. He’d started taking steroids. At first, it was just pills. A fellow porno actor hooked him up with Winstrol, a horse growth hormone. Then another colleague sold him Deca. It came in little vials from Mexico and Brazil. Tyler used a hypodermic needle to inject the Deca into his leg. He didn’t ask me to do it for him because he still didn’t trust me with sharp objects. Sometimes a male friend would come over and shoot him in the butt with the juice.

Tyler didn’t need steroids. He was fit and muscular and went to the gym. He ate whatever he wanted and never gained unsightly weight. Tyler had a great body and sex drive. His wood problems came from cocaine. He wanted to be just as virile as the health fanatics yet party every night. Steroids became the answer to his prayers, just like Viagra. All the porno dudes shot steroids. They did it to get big muscles because they thought it looked good on camera. It also served as a shortcut, a cheater way to a get that teenage rage of hormones, and another way to get high.

I was against the steroid use, but I didn’t have the backbone to stop him. He said they made him feel better. Cigarettes made him feel amazing, too. Really, I had no idea what the proper thing was for a human body anymore. My head was full of excuses for doing porn and coke. We drank to get drunk. That’s the point of it, right? I still had an eating disorder. Tyler took vitamins. Both of us went to the gym. We liked Special K. We convinced ourselves that it didn’t matter.
Whatever we do to our bodies will not harm us right now
. We were still young, resilient, and beautiful.

Not even a week after he started using them regularly, Tyler had all the stereotypical side effects from shooting ’roids. He flew off the handle at the slightest irritation. He picked fights with men he didn’t know. Back acne showed up, right on schedule. He wanted to fuck everything that moved. One morning, during a screaming match in our bathroom, he broke the door off one of the hinges. Tyler was violent, but he never scared me, which probably egged him on even more. He felt like a moron. Maybe I should have taken it more seriously at the time, but it seemed ridiculous. Tyler, the tough, steroid guy, was not a scary dude. I still kind of liked it when he got physical. It was sexy when it happened only occasionally. When he started shooting steroids the macho act got old fast.

The weekend Kris, Tyler, and I stayed in Palm Springs was fun. We ended up having a threesome on coke and ecstasy. Kris brought Special K for us. Tyler was the one who planned and pushed for us to fuck. As with his other dude-crushes, he thought the ultimate way to bond with Kris was to share me in bed. Tyler gave the gift of girlfriend ass. I was used to it. This was how we’d always been and I’d liked it in the past, but I was growing increasingly disinterested in it. Tyler was always pushing me into threesomes for fraternal reasons and not for our mutual sexual satisfaction. Or he would use it as an excuse to conquer other women with my consent.

At first I didn’t mind us having an open relationship because it wasn’t wide open. We were a team and everyone else was an outsider to an extent. I felt more secure with Tyler in the beginning, but as time went on I didn’t feel like number one. That’s the most important thing when it comes to love. We have to feel like we’re the most important person to the ones we love.

I can blame it on the steroids, or the porno. Nonetheless, Tyler didn’t have me at the top of his list anymore. He slacked off when it came to putting me first. His friends and other girls were out there to fuck and do drugs with. He took me for granted now. We’d been doing porn for over a year. People had been telling us that sooner or later the business would break us up. We weren’t paying any attention to the warning signs. I wasn’t happy. The most attention Tyler paid me was in an argument, or in tears.

Our friends were “there” for us. Kris, Tyler’s favorite friend at the time, was there for me when I needed a hug or someone to make me laugh. Right in front of my boyfriend, who ignored me, I fell for his good friend. I always passed harsh judgment on girls that fucked their boyfriend’s friends without consent. Girls who did that were awful, deceitful—especially in a porno world that depended so much on trust. Until it happened to me, I thought I was better than that.

You don’t always plan to deceive or betray someone. I felt an attraction to Kris because he filled in a gap. He showered me with affection when Tyler had no interest in me except as a piece of property. Kris made me feel special again, and I fell for it. The big plan for male bonding out in Palm Springs had backfired right in Tyler’s face. He was still too busy ignoring me to notice.

After our weekend together, we met up for dinner at Cobras and Matadors; this time Randa was included in the equation. She had no clue about my affair with Kris, but I knew she was suspicious of him. She was the one who initiated the outing to dinner. She wanted to hook up with Tyler something fierce. I don’t know if it was because she simply found him sexy or if she wanted to get some kind of reaction out of Kris. But I didn’t want to feel too much for her because of the crush that was going on between Kris and me. It was a bizarre love vortex.

I was on tons of coke and uncomfortable the whole time. Randa bugged the shit out of me. I hated the way she and Tyler flirted with each other. I didn’t get it. I smoked my cigarette outside and watched them through the front window of the restaurant. How could he be attracted to her? She told us a story about how she broke her cherry with a shoehorn when she was ten. Everything about her repulsed me. We all went back to Kris and Randa’s place after dinner. They lived in a guesthouse in a halfway decent neighborhood near Fountain and La Brea. Tyler dumped out a pile of cocaine on the glass coffee table. Randa made some cocktails and Kris went to the bathroom. He was sick from the food at Cobras. I felt sick, but not from what I ate. Randa’s cheesy smile and nasally, Midwestern accent made me nauseous.

Kris came out of the bathroom with a sour look on his face. Without much small talk, Randa gave Kris a glance, as if seeking a sign of approval. Kris’s body language said, “I don’t care.” Randa put her arms around Tyler. He looked into her eyes and started kissing her. She loved it. Tyler’s hands came around her back and felt her ass. Then he looked over to Kris and me and smiled his dumb-guy “this is awesome” smile.

I remained sitting on the floor in front of the coke. Kris took a place next to me. Randa’s tits came out and Tyler was slapping them. The living room was literally not big enough for me to be able to turn the other way. I did so mentally. I cut out two huge lines and snorted them. Kris did the same. I felt like an old bar hag, sitting belly-up at the local dive. I felt used, unwanted, and discarded. I was only twenty-two years old.

Tyler reached out for me while Randa was bent over, her panties off. It was clear that sex was going to happen. Tyler wanted to include me in his charade. I hated lesbian sex. I just don’t like vaginas. The only one I’m interested in is my own. Tyler knew all of this but pulled my head over to Randa’s cunt. She had big dangling labia, and Tyler wanted me to put my mouth on them.

I couldn’t jump back and start screaming like I wanted to. That would have hurt Randa’s feelings. Part of me did despise her, but still, I had manners. The color and texture of Randa’s cunt made me cringe. My mouth rejects the metallic taste of pussy, no matter whose it is. I licked Randa’s vagina for a few seconds, then I turned my head to Tyler’s dick. All was forgotten about the puss-eating once he began gagging me with his cock.

Tyler grabbed Randa’s head and shoved his cock in her mouth. We gave him a double blowjob for a minute, then I let her have the thing to herself. I felt no sexual stimulation from any of this. My heart was cold, wounded. All I felt was anger and frustration. I crawled on the floor over to Kris and the coke. We did another couple lines and I got on his lap. I straddled him and pressed myself against his big, elongated frame and we kissed deeply. Kris didn’t care for what was happening between Tyler and Randa on the other side of the room. It annoyed him more than it hurt his feelings. He said that he was done with Randa and wanted her gone. He let Tyler fuck her because he said she didn’t turn him on anymore.