Notes From The Porn Front

My office today is a sprawling mansion on the bluffs in Malibu. As I drive through the towering iron gates I noticed a terra cotta sign that reads "Apricot Villa."

I get set up in the pool house. It's basically one large room with a wall fresco of the Italian countryside. There are all these huge Moroccan pillows and Indian bed rolls thrown around the floor, which seems to be covered by one big white bear rug. Several low glass tables await a bubbling fondue pot, hookah or just very large piles of Grade A cocaine - so you never have to reach that far. Word around here is that the place was built to entertain sheiks and their hookers. Right out the door is a black-bottomed swimming pool, one of the ones with no edges. There's also a Jacuzzi/waterfall combination. Anyone can rent Apricot Villa for a few thousand dollars a day.

I'll be here today and tomorrow. I'm working on a porno, or, if you rather, adult film. I am the wardrobe guy. That means I am in charge of the clothes - all the clothes. Before this job I was not sure if crotchless body suits and sheer g-strings were in that category. Regardless, I'm hired for $250 a day to dress the actresses. And believe me, they are acting.

What I have to do is very simple. The girls come in and take off their street clothes. They stand naked in front of me in all their enhanced glory, and I rummage through a box of underwear until I find the magic pair of see-through panties. Then they are off to mechanically fuck each other while directors and camera men yell for different angles. More girls arrive and I get them undressed and slipped into a costume perhaps. Now keep in mind that these are all porno definitions, so costume doesn't really mean costume. Oh no, costume consists of very silky and transparent dresses, slips, nighties, earrings, and a handkerchief.

I really do try and make them look sexy or kinky - always seductive. These moments are usually the most erotic times on a porno set. It's the period before the girls are in their personas. I realize how much clothing can change an ordinary girl into a sleek super sex vixen. Now, that is a director's definition.

So here I am out in Malibu having a catered breakfast. Someone just came by and handed me a fruit smoothie. It's not summer anymore but hey, this is how it's done out here in California when it's 80 degrees on a fall day and we're overlooking the blue blue endless Pacific from some rented mansion and we're making fuck flicks for the world to watch in the privacy of their own bedrooms/hotel rooms where they are hiding themselves from a partner or a lover. Another guilty pleasure repressed.

Everybody likes porno/erotica/nudity. Just like everybody loves death/murder/fear. It's just that the latter ones are mainstream and socially accepted in this country. So go away, you sickos. Hide out and watch some naked bodies. But grab the whole family and share some prime time violence. Let's share some misery together.

Here's a couple in their late 20's from Cleveland who've never been out of Ohio except once when they drove to Vegas where they got married and tattooed. The guy Billy, he says it's always been his dream to be a porno star, but he's got a problem getting his wood up in front of strangers, so he's here just to support his wife who's new in the business. She's been a dancer for the last five years. This just seems to be the next step in the unnatural progression.

They say, "Wow we came out here and it's all sunny sand and we're meeting all these people and having a great time." And while I'm talking to them and fazing the sound of their voices out I'm thinking, "Yeah, right, I'm sure you know what a good time is." He does seem uncomfortable later in the day when his wifey is sport fucking some stranger who doesn't like talking about the gay films he used to do. Cool, cool California, the sun, the beach, shooting out in Malibu, getting dressed up. Oh yeah, and screwing for money. So it goes on and on and on. The sex scenes last forever. I don't know anyone who fucks for this long unless they're totally out of their minds on drugs.

Once you're in, you're in. The moment you're on film showing your pink insides - your most intimate parts - while you're hard-core fucking for the consumer wacko, well, hey you just go on and keep going - get that money and those new tattoos and more home furnishings and bigger gauge piercings.

There was a beautiful Puerto Rican girl on the set the other day. She likes to read, speaks two languages, married to her pimp. She gets all excited about souping up her Mustang, ya know she says, "I like detailing the car. I get rims and lower it, tint it all down," her eyes sparkled when she spoke. And I believe her and if I met her on the beach in Hawaii I would be temporarily in love. She puts all her money in the bank, then she doesn't work for a few months, and I'm with her on that plan because work sucks. But then I watch her convulsing like an android with a broken memory chip - pleasure, pleasure, pound me, pound that pussy, fuck that pussy - and she's not even present while the guy, who disappears before his scenes to jab his cock with a needle full of steroids to get his super hard on, loses all his cool when he's left masturbating in front of the whole crew, as everyone looks at their watches, getting ready to call in a stunt penis cause mister super dong can't come and we need the pop shot. Mr. Superdong tells people he had a horrible motorcycle accident where he smashed his nuts on the gas tank. Ever since then his dick just stays hard. Everyone knows he's lying except him. Anyway, he's jacking off like an epileptic chimpanzee in some animal cruelty zoo that should be closed down, but then I'd be out of a job. Nearby, the Puerto Rican girl stares blankly ahead waiting to be come on. In the background, a Polish couple paces, smoking silver Marlboroughs with their matching Starbucks travel coffee mugs. She's waiting for her scene, says her tits hurt. Had a new breast job a few days ago, her nipples are so sore her husband hasn't been able to lick them. She's waiting ... smoking ... waiting for about six hours to do her girl on girl scene with the girl from Cleveland who's freezing her ass off in the crotchless body suit and leopard print scarf I put her in.

Meanwhile the Steven Spielburg of porn is busy getting angles while the sun disappears behind the trees for the fourth time. The fog's rolling in right on schedule to shoot the first outside scene of the day at 4:30 in the afternoon because we've been shooting dialogue instead. Dialogue! Can you believe that? No one watches dialogue. No one listens to dialogue. Done for now, I'm out to crap service to get another smoothie and some of those great mini chocolate bars, then I'm gonna go see if the girl from Poland can fit into this piece of dental floss.

I work in porn.

--Johnne Perez

"Notes from the Porn Front" will continue in installments for the foreseeable future.

Remember, this is just the boy's day job. In reality, among other talents, Johnne Perez is an artist. Please go see his beautiful sculptures in the first ever Artist of the Month feature.

Photo and text copyright © 2000 by Johnne Perez. All Rights Reserved.