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“Back in the mid-90s, I had a job at an ‘upscale’ strip club (their words). They regularly hosted feature acts, most of whom were active performers in adult films. One weekend, I was tasked with being the ‘handler’ for one. Pick her up from the airport, drive her to her hotel or wherever she wants, get her to the club, etc. This particular woman was at the height of her popularity; she had a bunch of movies and was a big name in the industry. I picked her up Thursday evening. She was exhausted and wanted a ‘sit down dinner,’ so I made a few recommendations, and she picked one. She said she hated eating alone in strange places, so I joined her.”
“I was feeling weird and didn’t want to sound like a creepy fan, so I tried to ask her about anything EXCEPT her job. (I DID ask her what a couple of other stars were like when she gave me the ‘window’).
When I dropped her off at her hotel, I walked her to her door. She acted like she expected me to try to come up with an excuse to come in, but I just wished her goodnight and told her to call me when she wanted me to pick her up.
I didn’t expect to hear from her until it was time to go to the club, but she called in the morning because she wanted to go shopping…So I took her shopping. Then she asked if I had a gym membership somewhere because the hotel gym was disappointing. So I told her she could be my guest. I asked if she was okay with stopping by my apartment so I could get workout clothes, and she was cool with it. It was weird having this porn superstar in my apartment, commenting on my fake Patrick Nagel and Bev Doolittle ‘prints’ (Posters in decent frames). She said I was possibly the only white guy in America under 35 who didn’t have a Scarface poster framed ‘like it’s the fucking Mona Lisa.’
We went to the gym, and then I took her back to her room, where she made it clear she wanted me to come in. We ended up in the shower together and fooling around until she decided she wanted dinner before going to the club.
She was a hit, obviously. She asked me to spend the night after I drove her back.
She looked almost sad when she said, ‘Please don’t try to fuck me like we’re making a movie.’ She called it ‘romance novel sex.’ She was big into dim light/candlelight and sticking to face-to-face positions with lots of kissing.
We ended up spending every moment she wasn’t on stage together, acting like a real couple. We exchanged e-mails (mid-90s, no cell phones) and maintained a long-distance relationship for over a year. Every chance she got, she came out to my city and got to be ‘my girlfriend instead of everybody else’s girlfriend.’
The industry really wrecked her mental health/self-esteem in the early years, and the way she acted with me, it felt like I might be one of the only guys who didn’t see the porn star. She loved that I asked about her job like it was a regular job. She loved telling me about drama/gossip. She let me hold her while she sobbed about being sexually assaulted by a male performer at some industry thing.
Eventually, the romance/intimate relationship became too difficult to maintain, and communication slowed. We would email, just much less frequently. She got married to a guy she is still with.
I DID get a pretty unhinged/sobbing phone call out of the blue when I emailed her and told her I was deploying to Afghanistan. A couple of friends of hers with FDNY had died on 9/11, and she was having an absolute meltdown. Her husband actually took the phone from her and apologized to me, but I assured him it was cool and that I would happily check in frequently to let them both know I was okay. Eventually, all communication just fizzled out.
I wonder if she even remembers our little whirlwind?
… EDIT: She reached out to me on social media. By ‘reached out,’ I mean she ‘like bombed’ EVERYTHING on my IG and TikTok and sent me friend requests on EVERYTHING and a very sweet and happy message talking about her and her family, her oldest kid graduating from college, her younger kid graduating HS and about to START college. She recognized the backgrounds in some of my photos and videos of places we went together. She gushed over my wife’s appearance and her unmatched skills in the areas of costume design and construction. She told me she wanted to meet as soon as it was practical for everyone involved.
She told me how her old studio recently tried to get her to come back and do ‘MILF porn’ and how she told them to go fuck themselves since the individual who assaulted and tried to rape her still worked for them.
She told me that she’s actually very close with a couple of her old colleagues who have also retired and done their best to become ‘nobodies.’ The story has a genuinely happy ending.”
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