Girlvert: A Porno Memoir (7 page)

Chapter Nine

Ecstacy Dealers?

T
aking
ecstasy was one of our favorite ways to party. Tyler and I convinced ourselves that it was helping our relationship. We’d heard somewhere that the history of the ecstasy pill originated with couple’s sex therapy. We said it made us stronger and was something we could share to become more intimate. For whatever bullshit reason, we took that drug regularly. It did make me more open to the double anal and double penetration going on at home, but that isn’t exactly couple’s sex therapy.

Ecstasy made us into emotional idiots. For every night of “ecstasy” there was at least a week of intense depression, but that did not dissuade us. While cocaine made me numb and powerful, ecstasy was a “feel-good” high, all about sharing and equality. I wanted everyone else to feel good on ecstasy, too.

What money we didn’t spend on coke went into the pill fund. Even before the porno started, Tyler and I would foolishly buy “E” pills with what little money we had to spare. I remembered simpler days when Tyler and I were so broke that we lived off of frozen edamame and ice cream. That is when you really feel in love for the first time, when you’re poor. We had nothing but each other for comfort and entertainment. It was a beautiful time.

Now we had all of this money. Overnight, we had instant success in the porno business and could buy as many drugs as we wanted. We were still young and had our looks, too. The party never had to end.

There were many different people who sold us drugs. Tyler always found someone with stuff for sale. He was like a divining rod in a crowd. His inner coke-fiend would gravitate to whoever had anything for sale. This boy had no shame, no bashfulness about asking as many people for drugs as he needed to in public, even in broad daylight. We would be at our favorite bars, like Birds or The Cat & Fiddle, and Tyler would be hitting up random people for coke. I used to be embarrassed when he would walk right up to strangers and ask, “Hey man, do you party?” Time after time, Tyler’s charm prevailed. I had to hand it to him.

One of our dealers was this scrawny dude named Jay-Jay who hung out at Perversion, the Thursday gothic-industrial nights at Club World. This was the first club I ever went to when I turned eighteen. I was there almost every weekend, dancing to eighties music and looking for guys to fuck before Tyler had entered my life.

Jay-Jay never wore a shirt. He didn’t need to. His chest, back and arms were completely littered with tattoos. He always had a backpack. Anyone sporting a backpack at a club sells drugs. You can spot them a mile away. Jay-Jay liked us. We bought pills from him every weekend. We had such a reliable reputation for buying that Jay-Jay would extend us a line of credit when we ran out of cash for the night.

After buying six pills off of Jay-Jay one night and taking them all, Tyler had a plan. “Hey, these pills are really good, these new ones he has now. We should buy what he has left and sell them ourselves. To our own friends.” Tyler’s attempt to be business savvy. We were going to invest our porno money in the ecstasy market.

“I don’t know. What if we get caught?” I had issues with dealing. It crossed a line. Doing them and ruining my own life was one thing. Selling them to ruin other people’s lives was immoral.

“Listen Ori, I know how to do it. I’ve sold drugs lots of times. I sold hash when I lived in Barcelona. When I was in high school, I sold acid to seventh graders,” he proclaimed, as if that made it okay.

“What? You sold drugs to little kids?” I had to chuckle to hide my disgust. “That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t real acid. I just took postage stamps and dipped them in Drano. These dumb kids down the street would buy them for five dollars apiece. They’d take them and always come back for more the next week saying, ‘Whoa, that shit was so good. We were wasted, do you have any more?’ So I’d go, ‘Let me go see.’ And I’d just go dip some more stamps.”

I remembered buying a twenty-dollar bag of oregano when I was thirteen. “No Tyler, it would be weird to take money from our friends. I’d rather just give them away.”

“Ori, it’s easy. It’s not brain surgery. Lots of our friends will buy them if we just take them with us and pull them out when we all want them. How many times have you heard someone say ‘I wish we had some ecstasy right now?’ Almost every night. We’ll go to Colby’s house or to a party and everyone will want one. I’ll take the money from people. Come on, we’ll make all of our money back and still have some for ourselves. Don’t you trust me?”

I gave in. It wasn’t like he was going to stop bringing it up if I said no. I decided to try it out before judging the idea too hard and putting it down completely. Ultimately, I didn’t care, as long as I could do some, too.

Jay-Jay sold us fifteen pills for eleven dollars each; a perfect amount, because we already decided not to get too caught up and become drug lords. We were quiet about it. Someone might set us up. We were ecstasy dealers now.

When we got home, I went ahead and took a pill. It was my obligation as a supplier to test my own product. Tyler did two pills with me. It was customary to split each pill in half, take a half first, then, thirty minutes later, take the other half. The process solidifies the high. You want to peak as long as possible. When you start to peak, swallowing the second half will keep it going. An hour went by, and I didn’t feel anything. Something was wrong with the pill. I hadn’t done coke in hours, so the feeling of the ecstasy should have been stronger than usual. “I’m not feeling it at all. Let’s take more.” I never thought about the risks of overdosing. My mother and my father were drug addicts. Drug abuse was in my DNA. Nothing was ever going to kill me. I was built to withstand any kind of self-abuse possible. Overdosing never crossed my mind for even a second.

“Let’s split one more, I still can’t tell if it’s working.” The only change in my body was a slight stomachache from my cocaine and cigarettes diet. Two and a half hours after we first started, we were lying on the bed, feeling weird. What was in these pills? Not ecstasy. Maybe it was mescaline or speed? No. We felt wretched and tired. I wanted to go to sleep. Our pills seemed to be duds.

We got under the covers and turned out the little green lamp at the foot of the bed. It was totally dark except for a small nightlight in the bathroom. That light stayed on because I was scared of the dark. Things got even weirder on the pills in the dark. Oddly, I couldn’t close my eyes. They would only blink for a split second, snapping open again. What the hell? The room wasn’t still. It was quiet, but things were moving on the ceiling. I couldn’t tell if what I was seeing was just the normal blobs that are present while adjusting to darkness.

“Can you sleep?” I asked Tyler.

“No, I can’t. I’m wide awake now,” he sighed. Then he started laughing.

“Tyler, why is the ceiling moving around? And the walls! Do you see that?” I was pointing at the fragments of foam insulation dancing above our heads, and laughing too. But it wasn’t funny.

“Yeah, I see it. Oh hell,” he busted up with laughter. “I think what we took had a little bit of white blotter, or something like it.”

“What do you mean, like acid?” I spoke up in a loud voice that sounded like someone else’s. Who said that? Fuck! I didn’t want to take acid!

“The ecstasy must have been mixed with it. That’s why we felt so different from the last times. It’s all right. It’s not too strong.” Tyler had lots of experience with this drug, I presumed. He wasn’t upset at all.

I was trying to be pissed about it, but I couldn’t stop smiling. It was involuntary. I had no control of my facial expressions. “I don’t want to be on this. I hate acid. I took it when I was fifteen and I wanted to rip my face off in the mirror. What are we supposed to do? When will it wear off?”

“Uh. That’s the bad thing about acid. It lasts for at least twelve hours. Maybe more. We just have to sit it out. We’ll just stay in here and trip until it wears off. But who knows when that could be. We took a lot of pills.” Tyler calmly put his arm around me, and we let the acid kick in.

Hours and hours went by in our little studio apartment. Galaxies of particles danced around in midair. If I looked at Tyler for too long he would become something hilarious, then quickly something frightening. The sun came up and shone through the window. It was too bright for our dilated pupils. LSD makes the eyes super sensitive to sunlight. I tore apart the cabinets, looking for sunglasses. The only shades I could find were two ridiculously huge ravers. One had purple lenses, the other had blue. I used to actually wear them during a phase I went through. Two summers before, I bought a Paul Oakenfold album and wore these stupid glasses. I thought electronica was awesome for about a minute.

Nothing could stop the acid trip. Objects in the room were dancing. The walls would shrink and then get further apart, like they were breathing, like lungs filling up and then letting out. We couldn’t leave the bed. The carpet was a dark sea of the unknown, crawling with small organisms. I couldn’t make any shapes out from all of the living things that had now coated our apartment like the inside of a petri dish. Every time I looked at Tyler, I would lose control, laughing so hard. My hands kept going down to my underwear to check if I had peed my pants. It felt like there was pee all over me, but I remained dry. We had sex repeatedly. It felt good, but again, there was this hallucination of piss all over me and the bed the entire time. Tyler even came. After the first two times, I let him come inside my vagina. I was on the pill back then. Typically, on a non-acid day, Tyler would just come in my mouth. Acid gave Tyler a massive boner for some reason, and we fucked close to ten times. Maybe it was because LSD makes you literally insane.

All we did was fuck and talk. Tyler spilled his guts to me. Stories from his childhood he’d never told me before. He had me laughing so much I forgot how to breathe. When he was seven years old, he decided to walk down his street naked. He said it was because he felt sexy! None of his neighbors saw him, as far as he knows. When he got halfway down the street, he said he realized what he was actually doing, and he ran back into his house.
He does live in a dreamlike state as an adult. I guess it started at a very young age.

In the second grade, Tyler used to bring baggies full of white flour to school. The purpose was to roll up pieces of notebook paper and sniff it up with other kids in his class. He said he saw his mom and stepdad doing it, so he wanted to do it too. He and the other children he hung out with in elementary school would cut huge lines and act crazy, saying that they were wasted. Tyler also smoked weed when he was in second grade. He gathered the seeds and stems his mom and stepdad left in the ashtrays. Soon he had a large baggie of what he called pot. After school one day, a fellow seven year old friend came over to Tyler’s house. Without any adults home to watch them, the kids rolled the marijuana stems and seeds into joints using big sheets of notebook paper. Tyler’s little friend ate a seed and freaked out. He went home to his mother and said that he’d eaten drugs. The police came to Tyler’s house later to speak with his mother. Tyler’s mom talked her way out of it somehow, and no charges were pressed. She and her husband were both dealing pot out of that house. They had several pounds of it in the basement.

Eighteen hours went by before we thought that maybe the acid was easing up. We had stopped feeling high and began feeling shitty. The world was an ugly, scary place now. Instead of comet trails, we saw ghastly shadows creeping into our periphery. Though we weren’t hungry, we decided to drive to a Jack in the Box. Fast food is supposed to sober you up. It worked with every other form of intoxication. We layered our clothing with shirts and sweaters and jackets. It wasn’t cold, but it was dark outside. Who knows what could be out there? The layers made us feel safer. The closest Jack in the Box was on Sunset at Cahuenga. It took a lot of courage for us to get out of the car and go inside to order. Our minds were unable to handle any challenges that a drive-thru could possibly bring. We got the food, sat down at one of the little tables. My eyes were sprung but really dry. We needed to drink water, not the giant Dr. Peppers that we’d just ordered.

Tyler squeezed out some ketchup and I lost it. “No! These fries are too curly! This place is fucked up! Let’s go! This place is scaring me! I can’t be in here right now! Take me home, or somewhere. Anywhere but this place!” I didn’t want anyone to hear me. Everyone seemed to be watching us. The clerks and the customers were all freaks, secret monsters, and they were closing in on us.

Tyler just nodded his head and agreed. Fuck this place. He tossed down his fry before it got to his mouth. He put his arm around my shoulders and we walked out. “You can have the thirty dollars of fast food back!” We had to go home and get back under the covers. Fucking was the only relief. We fucked for another day and a half until it was finally over.

Chapter Ten

Pissmop

I
got
another scene request from a director at Anabolic. It was for someone named Pro Trusion. This was not his real name, of course. The video line he directed was called
Oral Consumption
. I was hired for a blowjob scene that included some male ass-licking and man-toe sucking. Fine with me. I hadn’t licked any man-ass before, but I was always up for trying new things. I didn’t care what I put in my mouth. I was literally a sucker for a new sexual experience.

Tyler wanted to come with me. He still wanted to be in with the guys at Anabolic, and I was glad he was coming with me to this shoot. It was at night, and I had to drive all the way out to some remote part of Chatsworth. I didn’t know that Chatsworth even existed until I did porn. Apparently, the district of Chatsworth, deep in the San Fernando Valley in the city of Los Angeles, has a higher concentration of porno companies doing business than any other place in the world. Every major street is decorated with adult industry offices. Anabolic was on Nordhoff Street, at the corner of Owensmouth. The building was ominous, a grey cement two-story warehouse that said ANABOLIC and DIABOLIC in large letters on the front.

Tyler’s eyes were shining like it was Christmas. He was told that any chick who went to the Anabolic warehouse and blew someone could have free shirts and hats. Tyler really wanted some free Anabolic gear. I told him that I would not blow a guy for clothes. That was where I drew the line. What would be next? Fucking for food? Tyler remained hopeful though. He knew he could persuade me to do anything if he threw a fit or made a big enough commotion about it. I was easily convinced. All he had to say was, “Ori, do you love me? Well, then…?” How could I argue? Of course I loved him.

We met a friendly Asian-American guy in the parking lot. His name was Voltron. And Wanker. We could address him by either name. He had a big beer gut and brown skin. He was probably in his late twenties, but I couldn’t be sure. I always thought Asian people had great skin. My mom is half Chinese and has almost no wrinkles. I immediately liked this guy, Voltron or Wanker. He giggled constantly. His face had an infectious humorous expression that seemed to suggest everything around him was a permanent joke. I liked that he didn’t take this porno shit so seriously. I felt the same way, that all of this was still a big laughing matter. The sex I was having and the money people paid me felt kind of silly. This was supposed to be a brief detour I would one day look back on and laugh at.

Voltron seemed completely harmless. He didn’t even seem like he had a dick. He was entirely void of sexuality. He had a mean sense of humor, but so did I.

He was, as it turned out, a very sick person, though. He had previously done time for pistol-whipping an ex-girlfriend, and was a serious drug addict. He is still suspected of murdering his girlfriend, a porno girl named Haley. We will never truly know because Voltron, aka Wanker, killed himself shortly after her death.

We walked with Voltron through the empty office building to the back, near the warehouse. It was past seven at night, and all the employees had long since gone home. There were several lights, called Kino Flos, set up near a couch. Kino Flos are packages of fluorescent lights, the most common lighting equipment in porn. A few dudes were there getting things ready for the shoot. I can’t remember who they were because they were shy. And I was still embarrassed to be there. I wasn’t able to proudly say, as I can now, “I’m Ashley Blue, and I’m here for the blowjob scene and ass-licking.”

Pro Trusion introduced himself. “Hello, pleased to meet you, I’m Pro. Ashley Blue? And, is this your boyfriend?” He was sneering too much to be sincere. He was downright sarcastic. But he was funny. He meant to be entertaining. It was clear that he liked attention. Pro Trusion had a speech impediment and sounded like an exaggerated character from
The Simpsons
, sniveling, as if his dentist was perpetually drilling him without using the saliva ejector tool. Maybe he had to develop the comedic personality because of his lifelong problem. Spit, white spittle, was flying as he talked.

Bitterness also exuded from this man. He was around fifty years old and was bald and a tad overweight. He told us right away what he wanted us to know about him, his own story, his mythology. At the time, Tyler and I believed everything people told us about themselves. I didn’t think anyone had a reason to lie in porno. I thought everyone was already a degenerate, so there was no reason to lie and make yourself sound better, because everyone already thought of you as a lowlife. I was wrong about that. Pro explained that he was a rich real estate developer and just directed porno for fun. What he really got off on was rough sex. His
Rough Sex
series of videos were so abusive that he had to discontinue them. Stores banned his work for the sheer violence toward women. This made him prouder than anything else he’d accomplished in life, he said.

Pro was an incessant talker. When he spoke, he looked straight into our eyes for reactions. He wanted us to be scared and shocked. He seemed desperately excited to put fear into me. It was confusing, because he also made us laugh with his clever humor. He was obviously a smart guy. But at the same time we were made uncomfortable by his vulgarity. He smoked a putrid smelling cigar and bared his yellow-brown teeth around its soggy butt as he talked. He used intellectual words. He was testing my comprehension, trying to see how intelligent I was. He even remarked a couple of condescending times that I was “pretty smart for an ass-licking, little anal whore.”

I just let Pro Trusion talk to me any way he wanted, which was down and rude. Yet another thing to get used to in this porno business, I thought. I shouldn’t expect any better treatment from these pornographers, really. Why seek his respect? In a few minutes he’s going to see me with my tongue in some guy’s asshole.

Respectfulness had a vague meaning to me. It didn’t really bother me to be disrespected on a porn level. Pro wasn’t going to be my friend. I was young and seeking his approval as a porn director, not his respect as a human being. Some sick and sad people are incapable of paying even the most common of dignities. I wanted this cretin, Pro Trusion, to be singing my professional praises by the end of this blowjob scene. No matter how he treated me as a person, through sexual performance, I was going to gain—I was going to earn—some recognition.

I sat on the couch with a light pointed at my face. The dude I was about to blow, Bent Brent, was sitting nearby on a chair. He was rubbing his cock through his pants. So was Tyler. Voltron worked the video camera, and Pro Trusion started with his questions. One of his specialties was to ask a girl just the right questions to make her cry on film. His interviews always came first, before the sex. He asked me about my parents—did they know? No, they didn’t, and I didn’t care if they did. He inquired about my aspirations before I decided to suck cock for a living. His goal was to make me feel like a piece of shit. He said, “…because that’s what you are, aren’t you, a piece of shit?” I told him I wanted to be an artist. I was unshaken by his insults. He couldn’t make me feel bad about myself, no matter how much of a jerk he tried to be. How could this guy think he had any grounds to judge me? To Pro’s disappointment, I didn’t cry. He said he wanted to continue the interview some other time, for another scene. Good. Another gig meant more money.

We had to start the blowjob. Bent Brent had a long, uncircumcised penis. It was about ten inches, with a curve in the middle. It was like an elephant’s trunk, but I managed to get the entire thing down my throat. It was better to deep throat than to suck because of the foreskin. The smell underneath foreskin grosses me out. It’s sour and resembles the stench of what’s between sweaty toes. Brent’s had a lot of white, cheesy stuff under it too. Every time he stroked his cock, more would appear. It was like a butter churn.

During the blowjob and ass-eating, Pro berated me. I just licked away at the butthole. It was freshly swabbed with a baby wipe. The ass was much less offensive than the cock cheese. Brent had pretty clean toes, too. There wasn’t any visible fungus, like so many other porno guys had. His feet were dry and rough with calluses. I sucked each toe individually, then stuck the whole foot into my mouth, as far down as I could. Then I choked myself, taking the extra step. I wanted to show everyone how into this I was. I didn’t want anyone to pity me or think I was doing it just for the money. I don’t—I didn’t—think I was doing it just for the money.

Pro saw me choking myself with Brent’s cock and foot. “Do you like to get choked?” he asked after Bent Brent had dumped his load all over my face. Tyler had gotten turned on during the scene and decided to pop on me as well. Now I was wiping both of their cum off of me. Without much thought, I replied with a yes. I remarked how much I liked it when Mark Davis had done it to me, that I loved it. Mark Davis was the sexiest porno guy ever. He was English and handsome. It didn’t even matter that he was uncircumcised. He could make it work—he could make you feel happy about foreskin. I swooned when I worked with him. He was charming and sexy, just like my own boyfriend, only a little more. Doing scenes with Mark Davis was like acting out a romance novel.

“Can I choke you?” Pro asked with a dark gleam in his eyes. My compliments about Mark Davis struck a nerve. Pro Trusion didn’t like it when girls talked about Mark Davis choking them. According to Pro, Mark couldn’t do it the right way. “I am the only one who does it right. Let me choke you.” I said it would have to wait until the next shoot. Fair enough.

“Do you like to get pissed on?” Pro asked. He was relentless.

I thought about it, then laughed, looking at Tyler. “No, no one’s ever done that to me.”

Pro gasped, “What? You’re kidding me! You have to try it. You’ll love it! I swear on my children! All girls love piss. Every girl I’ve ever pissed on absolutely loved it! We can do it right now. Can I piss on you?” His yellow-brown teeth were gnashing together with delight. This was a real treat.

I stared at Tyler, sort of in disbelief. I never thought anyone would be asking if they could piss on me. Especially someone I barely knew. I didn’t have a ready answer. So, I responded, “No, you can’t piss on me. If I were ever going to do that, it would only be with my boyfriend. He’s the only one who ever could.” Assuming Tyler was on the same page, I thought I had gracefully dodged the situation. I didn’t want to get pissed on for the first time in front of people. I liked to do everything at home first. Instead of remaining on the same level, Tyler lit up with excitement. “Okay, let’s do it! I’ll piss on you!” This was his chance to finally be in on the action. He’d been sitting on the sidelines for so many shoots and wasn’t satisfied with just being an extra pop shot. He jumped at the chance to piss in my mouth. I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t.

“No, Tyler, you can’t just piss on me right now. Your pee is too yellow. It’s gross.” I was looking for any reason at all to stop what was already sadly in motion.

“My pee is always clear. Can I piss on you?” Pro wouldn’t give up trying to gain first pissing rights to my mouth.

“No! I’ll drink water. Look, I’m drinking right now.” Tyler chugged down the bottle in his hand, and Voltron handed him another.

“All right, fine.” I gave up and laughed at myself. Not ten minutes earlier had I wiped the cum of two guys out of my eyes. Soon, I would be wiping out piss. Who knows, I thought, maybe I really will love it. I did love it in the ass. Part of me looked forward to any possibility of enjoyment. It would definitely be the most hardcore thing I’d ever done. Anal sex and piss. There was a ring to it.

Tyler filled up his bladder as much as he could. Voltron and Pro went into one of Anabolic’s employee bathrooms with Tyler and me. The door was wide open for all of the others to watch. I got down on my knees and made sure my face was positioned over the toilet bowl.
Ha,
now I’m the toilet bowl
, I thought. I looked up at Tyler as he unzipped and pulled out his soft dick. I asked him to hold my hand. He did. I watched the peehole until the pee stream appeared. Then it was steadily flowing into my mouth. It was warm and gross, salty and stinky, all vinegar and sour herbs. There wasn’t a lot of yellow to it, but it was still sour. All the water he drank didn’t make it exactly clean.

The piss filled up my mouth a couple of times, there was so much of it. I just spit it into the bowl. No way was I going to swallow it. After about thirty seconds, Tyler stopped pissing. He couldn’t pee anymore. He was completely hard. Pissing in my mouth gave him a huge boner. I looked at him and said, “Are you serious?” His erection was very serious. It turned him on big time that I was kneeling over a toilet getting pissed on. I even put my hair into pigtails for him, at his request.

I took the piss into my open mouth with a smile. It was totally ridiculous. I was thinking,
Okay, done
. Now I’ve tried piss and I can say so with truth and conviction whenever someone asks me about it: It’s not that big of a deal. I didn’t love it, and I didn’t totally despise it. I guess it was more for the guy to get off on. Voltron captured it all on video. I consented to have it be taped, and Pro paid me an extra two hundred dollars in cash. He said it would never be seen by anyone else but him, that he had a whole collection of private videos that he kept at home to jerk off to. Stupid me, I believed him.

A few months later, the piss scene in the bathroom ended up on one of Pro’s websites called
PissMops.com
. I felt like an idiot for trusting this guy. It was out of my control. Once you sign that model release, it’s over. As the performer, I surrendered absolute consent after I was paid for the footage. To tell the truth, I like that people can watch me getting pissed on my first time. I like piss now. By the time
Piss Mops
#2
was put onto DVD, I was ready for it. Pro Trusion even put me on the front cover.