We flew back into San Diego on Monday afternoon, and were at the mansion Tuesday morning. I sorted through phone messages and checked the answering machine for the back line, then sat down and waded through returning calls. One was from Crystal, wanting to know when she'd be making the next "Cum-Crazy Crystal" bukakke video.
"Got time this Saturday?" I asked. "Rounding up the mooks is the most difficult part of doing a video like that, and all the guys from the last one expressed an interest in doing it again. I didn't know you were so eager to become a niche porno queen."
There was brief silence from Crystal's end. Then she said, "Dammit Lenny, I'll be honest. At the time, making that first one was sort of a turn-on, no big deal. But ever since, I keep thinking about it, and the more I think about it, the more hot and bothered I get, and I really want to do it again because I will get such a massive sexual rush from it. I know, it's weird, a bunch of guys cranking out their loads on me, I don't even touch them.... But it's so raunchy and over the top it's a thrill. So yeah, fuck me, I want to do another bukakke video so I can get my rocks off. I suppose I could be into worse shit."
"Yeah.... We could have decided to make a water sports video, or worse. Anything kinkier or more dark than that would be handled by a sister company, Dirty Angel Studios up in Van Nuys. Inana's owner, Angel Morelli, also owns them, as well as a couple more straight studios and a gay studio named Man-Crush. For Inana people, just being in the offices at Dirty Angel creeps them out. You look around and realize the the phone numbers for the local ambulance services are posted front and center above every phone. Nobody around here has much kink to them that I know of, and the phone number thing really put people off. At first my studs were stoked, because of the money. Inana pays $300 for a scene, the LA studios only pay $150, but Dirty Angel pays male performers $800 for a scene. Hey, gold mine! But then they got to thinking, just what is involved in earning that $800? Terms like 'chains' and 'heavy restraint' and 'hot candle wax' and 'wood vice' were being bandied about, so our studs ran like hell."
"Hah! Shit, that studio could relocate to San Francisco, run some ads in the weeklies, and not have to pay the guys a penny, they'd have a shitload of volunteers who would think it's a great way of spending an afternoon."
I chuckled and said, "I'm glad I'm not interested in any kink. Dammit, sex is something you should not have to invest in equipment to take part in. And don't get me started on the sadists, fuck them. You tell me you're a sadist, you're basically saying to me that you can't get your jollies without causing physical pain to another human being. Uh huh, fuck you, it's time for you to walk the fuck away from me, very quickly. Yeah, I know, there's plenty of masochists out there, it's all consensual, safe words, blah blah blah. I still don't give a shit. If you can't get off unless you're hurting someone, to me you are a fucked up, dangerous person, a psychopath, someone without a soul. And motherfucker, I will drop you hard, on general principles. Maybe it'll roll your brain back in place."
Another pause from Crystal, then she said, "Wow. When I lived in the City, I knew a couple sadists, and they were totally normal people."
"Uh huh. I'm sure they seemed perfectly normal. There aren't a lot of obvious tells when trying to spot a sociopath, they appear to be average people. You need to study their patterns of behavior for a while, or somehow get them to submit to a psychiatric profile. Hey, I'm sure they all have perfectly innocent explanations for why they buy so much quick lime, hydrochloric acid, and fifty-five gallon oil drums."
"Jesus, Lenny...."
I cut her off. "Look, what I'm saying is that extracting sexual pleasure from hurting another person is a big tip-off you're dealing with someone who can't really grasp the whole human empathy thing. Since that empathy isn't there, they'll get bored with the routine they've been doing with consensual partners. Hey, lash marks are kinda sexy, just think how hot broken bones would be, or massive disfigurement, or some creative way to slowly kill someone, and you can watch while they suffer. I'm not just free-forming here, this shit has actually happened. Sorry if you think I'm being close-minded or prejudiced or whatever, but to me, anyone whose brains work like that should be forced to wear fucking bells around their necks like lepers, so everyone else can keep an eye on them."
Another pause, and Crystal said, "Let's move on to another subject now. So how was Minneapolis?"
I took a couple deep breaths, lit a cigarette, and said, "Both more interesting and more dull than I was expecting. Various people thought I was a crusty, just because I was wearing my denim. Queer Nation in Minneapolis is even more partisan and separatist than out here, they have some heavy ideologues in their scene. My personal observation is that if Prince moved away, the black population of Minneapolis would decrease by a third, that is one white town. And in Minnesota, they don't have drive-by shootings, they have shame-inducing glares that are just as effective. Overall, it would be hard to sell vinyl furniture out there. People would sit down, and be unable to stand back up because of the suction. Give me some coal and a Minnesota native's asshole, and I'll give you back a diamond in two weeks.
"The people we were visiting and hanging around with were great, but they all seemed to have half-formed plans to leave, and move to California. What was really depressing for me was how divisive things are in the queer scene. The older gays and lesbians think the young ones are reckless and nihilistic. The butch and bull dykes are hostile to the femmes. The femmes are hostile to the queens. And too many people have views of bisexual women that are fifteen years out of date. Bekka, whose bisexuality is of public record, got a lot of askance looks. Since Minnesotans are about as confrontational as three-toed sloths, we didn't really have trouble while we were at the bar, just certain ladies with crew cuts wearing flannel shirts who'd sit at the bar and sneer at us. Shit, they still use 'breeder' as an insult in that town.
"The social circle our host is part of was actually pretty accepting of me and Bekka, and the few who weren't just ignored us. It seems like the older you are in their queer scene, the less tolerant you are. I met two girls who made my night, though. These two femme dykes, maybe twenty-two years old, have turned fucking with peoples' heads into an art form, and they devote a hell of a lot of their time and energy to their art. They love to bait people in really satiric, sarcastic ways. The next town over from Minneapolis is a place called Edina, it's a real white bread suburb, like a bargain basement version of Walnut Creek. These two girls made a project out of horrifying and annoying everyone in Edina's city government. They convinced the city fathers there was.... Do you know what a hebephile is?"
Crystal pondered. "Yeah, it's someone who is attracted to adolescents."
"Early adolescents, like twelve to fourteen, just barely starting to ripen. These two girls created a fictional group called the Hebephilia Empowerment Coalition of Minnesota, an organization running close behind NAMBLA in creepiness. And the Coalition started petitioning the cit of Edina to hold a yearly parade, like the Pride Parade. These girls wrote lots of fictional and anonymous letters from area hebephiles supporting the idea. I guess the city of Edina was freaked out, because their police department started trying to investigate this organization, which really only consisted of some fake letterhead, a P.O. box, and two young dykes who like to aggravate people for fun. They did it as a mild dig at the Minneapolis Pride Parade, a harsher dig at the yahoos who were calling up talk radio stations and demanding a straight pride parade, and at Edina itself. These chicks consider Edina a genuinely horrible place, a lily-white, regressive, oppressive hellhole that epitomizes everything that sucks about the American middle class. They pulled this shit for eight months before letting it drop. Hey, it's certainly a more involving way to spend your time than smoking weed and watching Beavis and Butthead."
Crystal was giggling at this. "Too cool, these two chicks are into heavy pranks. Do they have set targets?"
"No. Anyone who they feel isn't using their brain at full capacity is a target. They make fun of the Minneapolis queer scene, if that's a hint. In Minneapolis, dykes still try to dress like their own stereotypes. Bull dykes are in crew cuts and flannels, dipping Skoal and talking like longshoremen. The butch chicks are in muscle shirts with piercings and short dyed hair. The femmes are in skirts or tight jeans and pumps, with a tiny pink triangle pin on their blouse. These two girls purposely created a way of dressing that was simultaneously butch and femme, they are walking contradictions, and sending out incredibly mixed signals in that scene. Apparently every week at the bar some drunk butch threatens to beat the shit out of them for making fun of the butch uniform. They don't get the point, which is there shouldn't be uniforms at all, according to these two, and I agree."
"Damn, those two would have a field day in the Bay Area. Think of all the fuckin' political action groups and rights organizations, all the social progress committees and empowerment coalitions. In the Bay Area, if you find three more people who share your views on any given subject, the four of you form a political action committee, get t-shirts printed, Xerox off some position leaflets, and try to run for city council in five different towns at the same time. And if you just can't think of anything to say, plagiarize excerpts from a couple old Noam Chomsky essays and be done with it."
Chuckling, I said, "Nah, too many people would recognize Chomsky these days. Just rip off some early Alan Cranston speeches. People would be passing out from boredom so quickly they'd never figure out they read the exact same text in the Bay Guardian back in 1978."
"Let's get back to the subject at hand," laughed Crystal. "So you think on Saturday I can have a bunch of guys jack off all over me again?"
"It should be easy enough to arrange," I answered. "I'll get on the phone, and I should have things organized by five today. So do you want me to add my own contribution again, and will you take it the same way?"
With a filthy-sounding snicker, Crystal said, "I know you're clean, Lenny, so you can shoot your cum in my mouth any damn time you please. In fact, I'll be more than happy to do all the work to get it myself."
"You'll have to talk to Bekka first.... If there was a camera pointed at us, I'll bet she'd be fine with it. In fact, that's not a bad idea, some footage showing you actually engaging in some action, not just kneeling there and talking dirty."
"No need for a camera. I'll more than happily suck all the cum out of your dick, anytime, any place."
Oh boy. "Uh, yeah, we'll see how things work. How about for this one, we shoot outdoors. You can be handcuffed to the metal fencing at the south side of the pool, that'll look pretty savage. Hmm.... Hey, do you think you could do a brief monologue directly at the camera at the beginning?"
"Yeah, no problem," said Crystal. "What did you have in mind?"
"You looking right at the camera and saying something like, 'Hey sweeties, I'm back! This weekend my slave boys said they didn't want me moving around while they bathe me, so here I am, cuffed to my garden fence. The big problem is that now I can't play with my pussy while I get my weekly bath, so I'll be getting all turned on and wet and horny with no release. When my slaves do let me out of the cuffs, I'm probably going to rub my pussy so hard it catches fire. Anyway, enjoy the show, and don't forget to give me your own donation at the end.' And at the end of the scene, we'll get a thirty second POV shot of you kneeling on the ground, talking dirty straight into the camera, so it looks like the viewer has the same view of you as one of the mooks would. Haw, we'll get guys jerking off all over their own TV screens."
"Oh, I can do that. I like the 'slave boys' bit. I'm in a totally submissive position, but I consider all these guys jacking it on me to be my slaves. Hey, we should think of different scenarios for these shoots. Let's do one on a beach, would that be cool?"
"It would look great, but be very risky to pull off," I replied. "We'd need to find someplace very isolated. Black's Beach down here is a nude beach, but the regulars consider any contact more sexual than holding hands to be in very poor taste. Not to mention if one of the State Parks patrols saw us while we were in the middle of the shoot, we'd all be going to jail. They'd call the sheriff's department for a couple paddy wagons and march us up the cliff trail at gunpoint. I've already gotten lectures from them about how we're absolutely forbidden from shooting any sexual activity, on any beach, anywhere. We'd be guerilla filming in one spot, with the cameras running for forty minutes. That's an insane amount of time to work an illegal shoot. The only other option would be to literally hike for miles on the sand, to find someplace sufficiently remote. And given what a large crowd we would have, we'd still be noticed."
"Well.... Fuck me," Crystal pouted. "I suppose doing a scene up here is out of the question."
"Not completely, but there would be logistics problems. Would we take our current mooks with us? They'd be gone for three days, so we'd have to feed and house them...."
"Shit, I can get sixteen guys willing to jack off on me collected in twenty minutes, I'll just go to one of the bars in North San Juan."
"Absolutely none of whom would have had blood tests," I reminded her. "Hey, I'd love to shoot on your parents' land again too. No, when you're thinking up scenarios, try to make them indoors. We can dress a sound state to look like anything you want. We also have the pool and spas, and the lawn, and part of the hillside. Shoot from the right angles on the hillside, it would look like you're miles from nowhere. But yeah, try to stay indoors."
We both sat in silence briefly. Then Crystal said, "Oh! Could you make a sound stage look like a classroom? The setup would be I got a job as a substitute teacher at a boy's school, but I'm really lazy, so I just keep my classroom full of boys distracted the best way I know how."
"Kinky, I like it. Although make it a community college, so viewers aren't wondering why some of the high school boys have male pattern baldness."
"Hey, wait a minute, let's roll back. I know I've seen porn that was filmed on a beach."
I sighed and said, "If it was shot legally, then it didn't happen in California, it was probably on the East Coast, where there is such a thing as private beach. And if they did guerilla film it, I'm sure it was just a one on one scene, done with a skeleton crew. Just two performers, camera operator, sound man, director. We'd have sixteen mooks, two cameras, sound, director, and two fluffers. Twenty-two people hiking en masse down the beach, carrying a shitload of video and sound equipment. We'd stick out like cat shit in tapioca."
We sat in more silence, then I said, "Oh! The interior of a fraternity house. We'd just shoot it in the performer's lounge here, put up a few sports pennants, litter around a few empty Coors Light cans.... The lounge already looks like a dump, it would be perfect. In your opening monologue, you'll talk about how you conned these dumb-ass frat boys out of $2500 so they could jerk off on you, they're just horny drunken losers, blah blah. Yeah, the Kappa Delta Smegma house. For the sake of authenticity, we'll have the Bob Marley album 'Legend' playing in the background. And at the end, you do a brief closing monologue, but you get cut off by some dude, fully clothed, stumbling into shot, slurring 'Paaarty!' then he passes out face first on the floor in front of you. You look at him, then roll your eyes and shake your head."
"Make me listen to Bob Marley while I do a scene, and I'll work wearing a hazmat suit and a football helmet. Mere words can't express my loathing of fucking Bob Marley."
"Okay, John Cougar Mellencamp. Or Van Halen."
With an evil cackle, Crystal said, "Do you think you could make a sound stage look like a church?"
"Yessss...." I started.
"Okay, setup and monologue are that I wanted to try my own version of baptism, so me and my slave boys broke into this church. We do the meat of the scene with me lying naked in a pew. Since I'd be lying down, I could get more body shots that way."
"Any church in mind?" I asked.
"Yeah, the fuckin' Southern Baptists. And also have a close-up shot of a huge load splattering all over a Chick tract. You know what those are, right?"
"I've ridden Greyhound, of course I do. I'm not sure how we'd make the interior of a church look particularly Southern Baptist, though. How about just unspecified Evangelical holy roller church? Lots of random chapter and verse citations on the wall, and an ornate sign that says 'Hail be thy profits.' Or we do a Catholic church, and at the end you wash up using the baptismal font."
"Yeah, let's abuse the Catholics," giggled Crystal. "As a parting shot, I spike the communion wine with birth control pills."
I looked at the clock and said, "I gotta sign off and make more calls, especially if we're gonna do a Saturday shoot. Keep thinking of scenarios. What the fuck, we'll turn Cum-Crazy Crystal into a franchise, we'll prove that Inana is capable of making incredibly depraved, raunchy, gutter-level porn."
"So when does my first one appear?" asked Crystal.
"This week, in fact," I replied. It's on the newest 'California Erotica' release...." I checked my release schedule. "Yeah, 'California Erotica Fourteen. You've got quite the focus on the box art, too. The front has a head shot of you with the words 'Introducing Cum-Crazy Crystal!' and three promo stills, plus description text, on the back. We wanted to let people know we did something very different this time. Want me to mail one up?"
"Yeah, too awesome. So, how does it look? How did it turn out?"
I made a contented sound into the phone. "Oh. Dude. Totally awesome. Let's just say Bekka and I are very, very happy with the finished loop. First of all, all those cuts to change camera positions paid off. The scene has a much more kinetic feeling than any other bukakke I've seen, we've got shots of you taking loads from a bunch of different angles. Also, Sally was shooting some of your loads in slo-mo, and she lucked out, guys who were shooting large and long were captured like that. Instead of the usual four seconds of squirting, the slo-mo shots last, like, fifteen seconds, and they're just these huge gushes, over and over. You looked fantastic, I don't think you squinted once, and you look ecstatic to be there, like these guys were shooting cocaine all over your face. You look orgasmic, you look satisfied, you look delighted, you were great. I will admit that I am impressed at your ability to keep up a pretty steady stream of dirty talk, and you don't repeat yourself.
"Also, the loop got original music. Usually we just use low-cost catalog stuff for the incidental music in loops. For this, we had our music genius Corolla chuck together some guitar-heavy sound. She had a jazzy 7/4 beat, and a good harsh heavy metal sound. Corolla is awesome, she can make twenty-five minutes of noodling on the guitar sound like one of Frank Zappa's most complex solos. Overall, the music adds a sort of tension and action to the loop, it makes what is already a damn decadent scene feel even more lewd. Bubba got the lighting perfect. If the lighting isn't right, cum is just totally invisible on video. No, every load shows up on you, right from the first. Girl, I hope you wanted to appear in some raunchy-ass, depraved hardcore pornography, because that is what we made. Your video has absolutely no intellectually or artistically redeeming value whatsoever, it it total fucking filth. And it is totally awesome."
Crystal laughed quietly into the phone, then said, "Too cool, great." Another quiet laugh, and then, "I just have the strangest feeling I'm going to end up masturbating while watching my own porn."
"Oh honey, the most close-minded misogynists will be jerking it to this video. Eunuchs will be jerking it to this video. Space aliens who have no concept of human reproduction or behavior will be jerking it to this video. If you went to the coma ward of a hospital and just set the damn tape down at the nurse's station, every patient on the ward would instantly bust a massive hard-on. This is, like, the forty year old scotch of jack fodder, it is really damn good. I'll get a tape up to you as soon as I get my promo copies."
"Great. Look, I gotta jet, I've got deliveries to make. Thanks Lenny, talk to you later. Oh, and by the way, I want to suck your dick so bad I've had my hand down the front of my pants this entire time, and the crotch of my jeans are soaked, and my living room smells like pussy. Bye now." (*click*)
Well. Gracious.
I went into the bathroom and jerked off like a fifteen year old boy, I was done in three minutes. I realized that between Bekka, Jane, Sue, and Terry, I hadn't jerked off in months. Well, today I needed release so bad I wasn't even willing to wait fifteen minutes for Bekka to get to the mansion. and I had a hunch that I would be horny as shit again within a half hour. That was fine, Bekka would be there by then.
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