Adventures in the Palace of Porn, part three

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On the day of the shoot, since everyone was running around doing terribly important stuff, I decided to go get my hair cut. Jo in the office helpfully googled a barber shop within walking distance, and I headed off to Market Street, to Joe's Barber Shop. Then, when I walked in, who do I see but leatherman Joe Gallagher, an old friend from the perverotti. (IML, '96, New York Leather before that.) Last time I'd seen Joe was on 18th Street, so I had no idea I had been innocently referred to his place. Got an awesome job from Mike, by the way. He has a totally hot lover, too.

By the time I finally got back, it was time to rest up before the shoot. The size of the room and the number of people who were going to be in there with lights, plus the fact that a good number of ladies were going to be bare ass brought to mind the classic dilemma of formal settings in porn - I was in leather trousers, boots, silk shirt and tuxedo jacket with a tie. It was warm enough for naked people. Fully dressed tops were going to be...uncomfortable. This of course should encourage some to dress lightly or strip off fast, but I was doing neither. I figured I'd just rely on my calm and cool disposition.

And plenty of ice water.

The dinner was actually catered; the two primary performers were to serve it, with additional secondary girls brought in for set dressing. Actually, one was a volunteer. This does not regularly happen in my experience, and I wouldn't say it if I hadn't been in the room when she asked if she could help out. Did I mention these people are genuinely kinky? Also, I thought the work atmosphere for the models was quite good. They had big fluffy robes, stacks of towels, assorted drinks and snacks standing by for when they were off camera, and before I arrived on the set I was given a separate document for each one, explaining in very clear terms what their limits were. Brief and explicit, I was asked if I understood each one and shown where these forms were kept, just in case I wanted to slip out of the room and check on something before acting like an idiot.

I appreciate anything that helps me to avoid acting like an idiot. Sadly, I think almost everyone said no anal play. I immediately burst into tears and hid in my trailer.

OK, I didn't.

I was allowed to mingle with the other guests during a casual cocktail hour and got to meet Princess Donna, Van Darkholme and the various directors and staff/performers for the evening. Conversation ranged from On Our Backs to World of Warcraft, and no, this time I am not kidding. It became rapidly clear, however, that the set dressing girls were going to be a lot more involved in the action than I had originally thought. The instincts of a performer is to play to the cameras, and if the slave girls were going to be free to serve drinks and dinner, then dammit, someone was going to have to put up with the bondage, the beatings, the fucking machine, etc.

There really needed to be much more discipline in making sure the non-sexual service was conducted. But for a first time? The food got out while it was still warm. And most of the drinks were delivered with accuracy, if once without the required tray.

I did manage to grab a cane and tease Satine Phoenix about not knowing the phrase "six of the best." Her nipples were perfect for the tiny black bands I'd brought with me, too. But I was mostly content to watch or get out of the way when more orgy-like activities were going on. My writer's brain was fully in gear as I noticed some of the details I will save for later use.

The lamb chops were delicious, by the way. And I have to say I have never before had dinner while my seatmate and host was energetically fucking someone where my knife would normally be. I did my best to make sure he didn't knock over his drink.