Sure. Working in adult video from 2003 to 2018 was something every red-blooded, straight male would dream of doing. And it’s an industry that fascinated me from a young age. Think about it: getting paid to have sex with beautiful women. It sure sounded better than my initial plans to graduate from college, go to graduate school, and teach world history.
You see, while I wasn’t a great student, I enjoyed picking up a random volume from an encyclopedia and just reading. Did you know the female fruit fly lays her eggs in manure? That’s something I’ve remembered since I was about 10 years old.
Fast-forward to 2003. I was 23 years old.
I knew having thick skin and unlimited patience would work wonders when dealing with some of the personalities in adult video. Here are a few times I had to bite my tongue to secure next week’s paycheck—and avoid criminal and civil charges.
James Deen
I remember when James first got into the business in 2004. Chico would book him for the big blowbang-type shoots, and James always came through. Chico eventually gave him more work, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Around early 2018, James was booked for a Dogfart shoot with a female performer and another male talent. My memory is a little fuzzy on the details, but I do remember James trying to tell me he needed a towel during the shoot. He mouthed it to me, but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.
Finally, he snapped.
“A towel. I need a fucking towel!”
All the while, he was waving his arms around like one of Tony Soprano’s New Jersey crew members.
I got him the towel while seeing red. I was overcome with the desire to drop his bony ass right then and there. My bank account—and my desire to avoid civil and criminal litigation—convinced me otherwise.
To his credit, he later apologized, and all was well. This happened at a time when I was already planning my exit from the industry, so I wasn’t exactly in the calmest state of mind.
Seth Dickens
Seth was a former member of one of the military branches. He looked like a real-life Johnny Bravo, and Billy Watson booked him for a ManoJob scene.
These were handjob scenes where the male performer didn’t talk, didn’t show his face, and didn’t get hands-on with the female performer. For all intents and purposes, he was simply a “stunt cock.”
We instructed all male talent to avoid groaning, yelling, screaming, hooting, hollering, or just plain being loud during the pop shot. Seth acknowledged the instructions.
He made it through the photos and video without an issue—until it came time to finish.
Oh, and did I mention male talent wasn’t allowed to masturbate themselves on camera? Seth got himself close enough that we could cut in with the video camera, and I could edit it together cleanly later.
Ten minutes became twenty, and he’s jerking off like an asteroid is about to level the San Fernando Valley.
Once again, we reminded him to stay as quiet as possible when he was about to finish.
Instead, Seth stood up, walked over to the female performer, and started yelling like he was getting a rectal exam from Dr. Edward Scissorhands.
“Jerk that cock, baby! Yeah! Fuck yeah! Hell yeah! That feels so fucking great!”
He was literally screaming all of this during a shoot for a site whose members didn’t want to hear the guy at all.
Needless to say, Billy and I weren’t thrilled—especially me, since I now had to fix the audio in post-production.
Billy never hired Seth again.
Kagney Linn Karter
I know it isn’t right to speak ill of the dead, so I’ll be as fair as possible here. After all, don’t you want the unfiltered truth? I thought so.
We shot Kagney Linn Karter for Blacks On Blondes in late 2011. I remember the time frame because my father was knocking on death’s door. More on that later.
Kagney already seemed annoyed by my presence, and if you’ve ever been on set with me, you know I do my best to make everyone feel comfortable.
She proceeded to make my day miserable by criticizing my behind-the-camera work—specifically the behind-the-scenes video and photography. She was condescending with a capital “C.”
With my father dying just 15 miles away, she picked one hell of a day to make me feel less than zero.
I left early, and she couldn’t resist getting in one last jab.
“D, you’re good at your job.”
She said it with the same sarcastic tone as a prostitute telling a virgin he’s “the biggest one” she’s ever had.
Oddly enough, we shot with her again a few months later, and she was a completely different person. She was friendly, professional, and our previous encounter might as well have never happened.
