Out of the Blue: Confessions of an Unlikely Porn Star (24 page)

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Authors: Blue Blake

BOOK: Out of the Blue: Confessions of an Unlikely Porn Star
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Dirk pointed at Lance, “Is this your boyfriend?”
“No, this is . . . a friend,”
“Well, you’re very handsome,” said Dirk. He looked us up and down . . . was he wearing Wellingtons?
Lance and I grinned at each other. We were young, hot, and had just been asked to star in the Tom of Finland movie . . . and as Lance was so fucking gorgeous, I definitely wanted to be immortalized forever on film with this piece of straight muscle.
“Are you sure your brother won’t do it?” asked Dirk.
“Positive.”
Gage had sworn he would never do porn again—all my teachings gone to waste. Talk about casting one’s seed on fallow ground!
“Well, the two of you will be great together in my film,” said Dirk. He really was quite charming apart from the rubber Wellingtons.
Dirk left promising he would be in touch, and I bade a sad farewell to Lance. Hmmmm, I could fall in love with Lance I thought. The phone rang. It was Chris Duffy.
“What have you been up to?” he asked, sounding high.
“Listen to this, I’ve been asked to star in the Tom of Finland film,
The Wild Ones
.”
“What? That’s amazing! Who are you working with?”
“A guy called Lance Bronson.”
Chris’s tone changed from congratulatory to suspicious.
“Isn’t he the guy you liked so much?”
“Yes,” I said exasperatedly. Why was he asking so many fucking questions, when, still feeling sexy from the ecstasy, I wanted to go and have a wank.
“I don’t want you to do it,” said Chris matter-of-factly.
“What?”
“Or if you do it, I want you to do it with me.” This was getting exhausting.
“All right,” I said, calling Chris’s bluff, “I have to go back to San Francisco on Thursday to do my scene for Hot House. Do you want to star in that film with me too?”
“Yes, I already told you I did,” said Chris emphatically.
Next thing I knew we were on an airplane together flying to shoot the movie for Hot House Studios. Our lives were about to change forever.
When we arrived in San Francisco, the owner of Hot House studios, Steven Scarborough, seemed pretty happy with the two of us. We definitely were completely original looking, being big bodybuilders at a time when porn was full of jocks. Even the guys who looked like bodybuilders in the films were 5 foot 5. Chris was 6’3˝ and I was 6’1˝. He weighed 300 pounds and I weighed 230. We were big and beefy.
“The movie’s called
Nothin’ Nice
, and you play garage mechanics. Chris comes in—Blue, you’re repairing a car. He sees your ass, goes wild with desire and he sticks a speculum up your butt.”
EXCUSE ME!! A SPECULUM?!? A speculum is a metal medical instrument which, when inserted in the vagina or rectum stretches the patient open by the twisting of a screw. It has two prongs that open up a person so the doctor can see inside. The idea that I would agree to let somebody stick a speculum up my arse in a film now seems ridiculous . . . however if anybody was going to do it to me, it might as well be Mr. America.
The set was incredibly cool, an old garage with an antique sports car that I was pretending to repair. I was dressed in greasy coveralls and a jockstrap underneath. When Steven shouted “Action!” I began madly repairing the engine. If you watch the movie closely you’ll see me remove the spark plugs and replace them THREE times with the same spark plugs. Chris enters—also wearing overalls—and at the sight of my ass he bends me over the hood of the car, rips off my overalls and eats my arse. The scene was a piece of cake. We were supposed to be mad about each other, and we were. Chris fucked me, stuck the speculum up my ass, ate my arse again . . . I still couldn’t quite believe Chris was doing hardcore porn. Amazingly, Joanie had even encouraged him. Without realizing it, I was being drawn into a twisted web that would grow only more twisted over the next year.
The shoot ended quickly and everybody was delighted with the scene. We were paid three thousand dollars. I gave Chris two; I kept one. He was worth two grand; he was Mr. Fucking America for Christ sakes!
I had been a little worried how Chris would handle his first porno shoot but he took to it like a duck to water.
As Chris filled out his model release he turned to me and asked,
“What should I put where it says stage name?”
Steven Scarborough piped in: “Why don’t you call yourself Bull Stanton?”
Great name, I thought and it really suited Chris. Years later when I started producing I named dozens of models . . . Robert Van Damme, Brad Rock, Scott Gunz, Peter Latz, Sal Lombardi, Rhett O’Hara, Ben Campezi, Rico Dulce, Vincenzo Titan. A good strong masculine model name is extremely important in porn and the models for some reason will go crazy with names given the opportunity, especially straight models, e.g. Mason Jarr. I mean, I get the humor of it and it does stick in one’s mind but I could never look at Mason Jarr without thinking of, well, a mason jar.
Robert Van Damme has one of the most appropriate names in porn. I first met Robert in a restaurant in West Hollywood. Upon gazing at his god-like beauty I whipped myself over to his table to inform him I could make him one of the most famous porn stars on the planet. Luckily he was with two of his friends who knew who I was so I didn’t sound like a totally crazed maniac. He told me he was straight to which I responded, “Perfect.”
I immediately cast him in
Muscle Men Moving Company, Inc
.,
Cowboy Rides Again
and
Young Gods
and because of his resemblance to Jean-Claude Van Damme I bestowed him with the moniker Robert Van Damme.
Robert Van Damme is a total enigma because he was once one of the highest ranked ice hockey players in the Czech Republic, in the world in fact. He was married, with three kids, and shagged every hot chick he could get his hands on. Then he began to star in gay porn and before you could say, “pass me that bowl of borscht” he had become an enormous star and was delighting in man-on-man love action. Of course, for straight men, doing gay porn can often lead to one unfortunate realization: that they actually enjoy having sex with other men. I have seen this happen more times than a millipede has legs. Straight man meets straight girl, falls in love, girl persuades straight man to do gay porn because she thinks its kind of kinky, straight man meets gay boy on set . . . they run off to Aruba together . . . straight girl cries for weeks on Blue Blake’s broad shoulders. It’s like the gay-for-pay circle of life.
Now that Chris Duffy had embarked on a hardcore porn career, there was no turning back. Dirk cast Chris in the Tom of Finland movie at my suggestion and Chris’s insistence. With Lance out of the picture, Chris and I were the stars. I hadn’t spoken to Lance since we had fucked and he had returned to D.C. In fact, after
Posing Strap,
Lance never did another porno again. He didn’t become a hugely famous action star either although he has appeared on over four hundred fitness magazine covers worldwide.
The miniscule plot of
The Wild Ones
involved Chris and I riding around Los Angeles on our Harley Davidsons, inviting hot guys to join us for an orgy. Chris and I don’t appear in the orgy scene, since they couldn’t pay me enough. Three-ways were bad enough—I had done a few of those—but orgies were out of the question. I was far too particular about whom I fucked to do a big group sex scene.
The Wild Ones
also starred Michael Brawn, Wolf, and Zak Spears, among others. In a weird coincidence, the first scene Chris and I shot was set in a garage and we were mechanics just like in
Nothin’ Nice
. Dirk directed. A guy called Marcus did the videography. He owned a company based in Brazil called Marco Studios, and he shot a lot of bodybuilders in his films. He was a small, unassuming guy, and I adored him. We just hit it off straight away. In fact, years later I traveled to Sao Paolo and stayed with him for two weeks while we discussed making a film called
Brazilian Blue
. I would star as a British tourist visiting Brazil; fucking my way through the country. The film never got made but Marcus and I have remained great friends.
In our
Wild Ones’
scene, Chris drags me off the street and into a car repair garage. He pulls down my cut-off shorts, eats my arse then fucks me silly.
Although Dirk knew how to spot terrifically hot men, he was a terrible director. A lot of people think they can direct porn just because they watch a lot of it but it’s an incredibly complicated jigsaw puzzle that must connect properly. That’s why there are so few really talented porn directors. While we were shooting our scene I noticed Dirk was paying way too much attention to the B-roll—this is the acting that sets the scene up—and not enough attention to the hardcore. When Dirk shouted, “It’s a wrap” I was astonished. He couldn’t possibly have enough hardcore footage for an entire scene. However, I said nothing because I didn’t want to cause any hassle on the set. But I noticed Marco looking strangely at Dirk, as if he too couldn’t believe we had finished so soon.
After the shoot Chris gave me a ride home. He seemed nervous.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“Joanie and I want to move to San Francisco and we want you to come with us.”
San Francisco!!! I never dreamed of moving back to San Francisco . . . still, I had a lot of friends there: Gabriella, Officer Betty and a ton of leather men.
“Let me think about it,” I said. “That’s a big step for us . . . or me.”
I was ambivalent. If it had just been Chris and me, I would have bitten his arm off to move to San Francisco, but with Joanie as well? I wasn’t even bisexual for God’s sake, and on top of that our sex life was growing stranger by the day. Joanie was really into seeing Chris getting his ass used and she was always trying to “fist” him . . . stick her fist up his ass.
Chris dropped me off at my apartment and I walked in to find Gage watching
Roseanne
while Stephanie was in the kitchen cooking a pot roast. Jesus, my apartment life was turning into an episode of
Leave it to Beaver
! I had to put an end to this.
“I’m moving to San Francisco with Chris Duffy,” I announced spontaneously.
I heard “Roseanne” laughing insanely in the corner of the room as if predicting the folly of my decision.
I rented an apartment back at Casa Sanchez and Chris and Joanie rented the apartment above me. Straight away it was a really uncomfortable situation. Joanie sensed that Chris was slipping through her fingers as he became more involved with men. They fought constantly, and when they weren’t arguing, they were taking drugs and fucking.
We had only been in San Francisco a few weeks when I received a call from Dirk Dehner.
“Blue, I have a huge problem.” I knew exactly what was coming. “In the footage we have of you, we didn’t shoot enough close-up penetration shots.”
No shit Sherlock.
“So could you fly back to Los Angeles so we can reshoot just the penetration shots?”
FUCK!!! FUCK!!! FUCK!!!
“I’ll talk to Chris about it,” I said wearily.
“There’s just one more problem,” Dirk added, “We don’t have it in the budget to pay you.”
Now if my career hadn’t been just starting I would have told Dirk to fuck off, but truth be told, I liked Dirk and didn’t want to mess up his first film. I agreed to indeed fly back to L.A. for the reshoot of the penetration with no pay.
Chris didn’t mind. He had left his motorbike in L.A. and wanted to ride it back to San Francisco anyway. Also, I think he wanted a night away from Joanie who was imbibing drugs like a mad woman.
Once we got to Los Angeles we were put up by the Tom of Finland Foundation in Silverlake. The foundation was housed in an old rambling place that was constantly full of pierced and tattooed volunteers. Gage would have been in heaven. Upon announcing that I was moving to San Francisco however, Gage had returned to London with Stephanie, thereby giving up our apartment.
We shot the penetration shots in a cellar dungeon. The walls were full of pictures of guys wearing gas masks and drinking piss. If you watch
The Wild Ones
closely you can see the lighting and floor beneath me in the fucking shots are completely different in the wide angles than in the close up shots.
The next day, I flew back to San Francisco and found Joanie high on GHB. At that moment something inside me clicked. Looking into her drugged up, pinprick pupils I realized my life in America was over. Just like that. I was sick of this circus that my life had become. I didn’t even wait for Chris to arrive back from Los Angeles on his motorbike. I called up British Airways and caught a flight back to London that night.
Chris and I lost touch after San Francisco. I heard about him as the years went by only through the grapevine. He and Joanie moved to Florida but eventually divorced. Joanie became a dog groomer and Chris fell in love with a female impersonator who moved back to San Francisco with him. Chris was a genetic marvel who at a young age was adored by millions of men all over the world. I always thought he seemed to be searching for something that nobody was capable of giving him and that is why he experimented so deeply with drugs. I saw him once more in New Orleans. The last time we spoke he seemed sublimely happy having finally settled down with a guy with no wife around to ruin things for him. Perhaps that’s what he needed all along. It definitely wasn’t Chris’s or my destiny to stay together forever, but for a brief while we were in . . . lust.

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