Sky Sluts
There is a section of Craigslist called ‘Adult Gigs’. This is where you post if you want to pay for some sexy stuff as opposed to meeting someone sexy. I rarely venture there and in exchange people advertising for some porno work should not post in the ‘Talent Gigs’ section, so as to protect the unwitted. Bloke of Bloke Media posted in the ‘Talent Gigs’ section that he wanted a British person to be an off-camera host for a TV show on British TV. This should not have been anything to do with porn.
“It’s one of those Sky 900 shows,” said Bloke on the phone, “where guys call to talk to girls.” Sky TV is a cable company in Britain. I’ve never had it so I wasn’t quite sure what a Sky 900 channel was. I had an inkling it probably involved not very clad women lounging on a sofa saying “call now for a nice little chat over a cup of tea,” or the like. It was, of course, up the I5 to LA. I was, of course, late starting, and even later arriving. It’s what I do. You may notice the running theme throughout the website.
The address was in a nice part of West Hollywood on Sunset, near a decent coffee shop and a particularly great burger place. The ground floor office door I knocked on opened straight into a gloomy make-shift corridor. I looked around and at the other end was Bloke, who smiled and headed toward me. Bloke was everything you’d think a porn producer would be. He was large, he was sweaty, and he had long lanky hair. He looked as if a costume designer had dressed him for a cheap made-for-tv film. He assured me he wasn’t a perv and was also a proper film maker and had made a film with Steven Berkoff (it was true, I looked it up, I love Steven Berkoff so I was very impressed), but this, whatever it was, was what he did to finance his films. We met half way, where the corridor opened into a room. A room with a bed and two cameras. And two Sky Sluts on the bed, working it to the two cameras.
They were near naked, one of them rubbing a phone between her breasts which were out and right there on either side of the mouthpiece, not covered by a nice but slightly risqué dress lounging calmly on a sofa, but out and exposed and right there a few feet away. I knew in my heart I knew this was what it was going to be, but there it actually was. Luckily for Bloke I really don’t give a toss about porn. I love a good bit of porn, obviously only if it’s not hurting anyone, why the hell not. I remember discovering Porn pages in a little shack when I was younger and being very intrigued, then reading a friend’s brother’s ones when I was in senior school and being even more intrigued and feeling all ‘funny’ and slightly disturbed but slightly not disturbed. I’ve even participated in real, live sex that involved me and another person, but I’d never actually been near real, live porn in the making with real women showing off their real (ahem) boobs and saying real dirty stuff into phones to real men in their bedrooms in Britain. Eeeek. Scream and run or stay and discover?
“So,” explains Bloke, “this is being broadcast live to Britain and what we want is an English voice to entice guys to call in, let them know who the girls are and keep the talking up so it all flows. It doesn’t really matter what you say though, they’re mainly just looking at the girls.” Um. “Its $50 an hour, we’ll give you a tryout on Friday if you like.” “Um. Oh, okay, what the fuck.”
Well part of “what the fuck” is that I now have to go home and tell my dear husband that his wife works in the soft porn industry. He’s not too put out by the soft porn part, is only a bit ooky about it, says I’m free to choose what I do. His counter argument though is that it’s way beneath me, being a doctor and a serious science writer that is. My arguments are that it’s just a super interesting thing to do and that I’m actually an unemployed doctor and serious science writer who needs the money. When unemployed you have to declare if you earn anything in that week then they dock it from what you get and you can continue getting your checks if it’s only a one-off job. You have to briefly describe what the work you have done is. I have no idea what I’m going to put for this.
Friday comes: Good lord I’m nervous (reminder to me – you are an Atheist, a very ex-Catholic, you must make the effort not to use any god references in the future). I feel like calling it off, but I end up going. I head off (late) and arrive (late) and am sat down at a desk with the Sky Sluts on a bed next to me taking calls. I can’t, thankfully, hear what they guys are saying, but I do catch odd phrases the girls use. “Do you want to stick you’re tongue up my butt; mmmm, that feels so good.” “Oh wow, I can hardly get my little mouth around your wonderful big cock.” Eww. Eww. Ewwwwww. Sex = great, other people describing sex very near me = Ewwwwwwww.
Thank fuck (much better, no god references, stick to the swear words) I don’t have to say any of that, am in fact not allowed to even drop a bad word, it being not paid-for TV but the channel anyone can pick up. The girl’s big restriction is that they’re not allowed to show anything their very small knickers are covering. One of them got sacked recently for flashing her vagina and nearly getting them shut down by some TV decency people. There is a line you know.
Cat and Skylar are sweet girls who chat to me in between phone calls. I’m perturbed that they only take a few in the first half an hour I’m here, am I not drumming up enough business? Duh. The guys phone in at fifty pence, a pound, one pound fifty, depending on traffic, and get that long message to hold on. Even those that hold on don’t always get to talk to the girls themselves, get diverted to another message and other girls. It’s a rouse!! Sweet Jesus Lord in Heaven have these heathens no shame!!
“That’s the lovely Cat on the left dressed in sexy red. Can you see how hot her stockings are guys? Wouldn’t you like to run your hands up those stockings? What about Skylar on the right in the powder blue? A true Hollywood blonde who surfs every day to keep that wonderful body of hers in shape. That’s right; we’re live from Hollywood, coming to you over there. It’s beautiful and sunny outside, but we’d rather be here for you my lovely guys.” And so on and on and on for 5 hours. Boring. Two hours into it another girl arrives who calls herself Sweet Chocolate Lola. She hasn’t been introduced to me, has no idea who I am or what I’m doing there. That’s so unprofessional. What kind of two bit, in a dirty office in Hollywood, dick-teasing, money-wasting operation is this? Lola is out there, where Skylar and Cat moved gracefully and giggly, she thrusts her arse into the air and shakes it wildly, takes the phone into her mouth, fondles her boobs, and has her toes so close to the decency line only the pinky is still touching it. I’m scared of her. She’s a real porn woman, we are no longer playing Sky Sluts in a make believe bedroom.
Then the shift, the experiment, the audition, is over and there’s a 2 hour drive home to arrive at The Alibi just before midnight. I do it once more but realise Friday night with my friends and not doing a 5 hour round trip is more important to me than a bit of cash. Not what my credit card companies wanted to hear maybe. If they did it in San Diego I’d still be there though.