The Introverted Porn Star

dr-strangelove

I don’t beguile them for the way they make their living. I’ve always felt it’s a bit morally presumptuous to say that what one does to put food on the table is or isn’t right. Even killers kill for the right reasons in their own mind. Porn stars don’t kill people – at least not that I’m aware of – and when I first met him you would have never guessed he was a porn star though you might have guessed he was a killer.

“He’s wearing a goddamn beret,” Mark, my sometimes co-writer says to me.

“It’s a true relic of Bohemia,” a man next to the porn star explains. I wasn’t exactly sure what to call this man. He was with the introverted porn star, but both of them were with us as cameramen, so I guess he was technically with the cameraman. He functioned like a third wheel, always adding things he thought would liven up the situation, when in reality they only served to make things more trite.

“So you’ll be with us on the Saturday?” I asked. I needed to make sure we had personnel and equipment locked up for an important shoot and the European cameraman/porn star was the guy who had the goods.

“I don’t know why you want to shoot a bunch of dogs,” he said. I immediately placed my head in my hands as I anticipated his partner’s obligatory Michael Vick joke. Mark interceded immediately.

“We’re not shooting them, we’re using cameras to capture their image…” he stammered. It was no use.

“So Michael Vick, Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson go into a bar,” the partner said. I could feel my head beginning to pound and I immediately got up to go to the rest room to either splash some water on my head or drown myself in one of the stalls; both seemed like good options at this point. It was when I was standing in the middle of the bathroom – debating my two options – that I got a text that saved my afternoon. We weren’t going to need these two for the shoot after all. Mark wandered into the bathroom and he looked like he was sorry he had to leave the table.

“That guy’s hilarious,” Mark said and I tried my best not to think of ways to turn my belt into a makeshift noose as he said it. Mark was the kind of guy who liked having conversations in bathrooms. I’ve never understood this kind of person. Why would you think that a bathroom was a good place to have a conversation? Your voices are amplified, usually what you’re talking about is something that you don’t want others to hear, what possible reason could you have to open up your mouth in a bathroom unless you’re standing at the urinal and need to ask the person next to you to stop pissing on your leg?

“Unfortunately, they won’t be joining us on Saturday,” I said feigning disappointment as best I could.

“But Stellan is looking forward to it,” Mark said with a frown.

“His name is Stellan?” I asked. I didn’t realize it until just then but I had never heard the porn star’s name before. “He sounds like some sort of German acrobat.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mark said and with that the aforementioned Stellan walked into the bathroom with his beret and German bomber jacket on either unaware of the duality of wearing the two together or simply indifferent to the fact that the two items of clothing made two completely different statements. He was wearing polished boots that I hadn’t noticed back at the table. They were squeaky clean. It was then that I realized that this man was dressed to look like some sort of Nazi officer. As Stellan walked up to the urinal next to Mark I tried to put the pieces together. Was Stellan really just a misunderstood artist who dabbled in porn every once in a while or was he some bizarre fetishist who got off on pretending to be a member of the master race?

dr.strangelove

“Holy shit,” Mark exclaimed. He took two steps back from the urinal and nearly tripped over his feet as he raced to zip up though he was still peeing in a direction that looked to still be somewhere near the urinal. Mark was staring at Stellan’s penis. “Look!” He cried. “Just look at that thing.” I put my hands up and made a run for the exit, but before I could make it out of the room Stellan turned around and put his hands on his waist showing off his tool for all to see.

“It’s Zed,” I said to Mark as I walked out of the room.

“Who’s Zed” Mark said following me completely unaware that he had failed to zip up his pants.

“Pulp Fiction,” I explained. Mark still appeared to be lost. “I’m going to grab my coat and when I do I want you to reach over for the check and zip up, okay?” Mark nodded his head in agreement though it remained unclear as to whether he understood my instructions. At this point most of the patrons of the restaurant were either staring or making not-so-subtle attempts to draw attention to us and what I can only describe as our less than civil behavior.

When I picked up my coat Stellan’s partner grabbed my hand and asked: “did you see it?” Stellan’s partner was clearly one of the most annoying men on the planet and I didn’t want to give him anything to smile about so I simply replied: “see what?” I watched his smile fade to a frown. The man looked positively hurt by my remark.

The man put his hand on mine and said: “you know he’s an introvert, right? He’ll be hurt if you don’t at least compliment him.” I tried my best not to laugh. The flamboyant Nazi officer who prominently displayed his penis in a room full of men was an introvert? Right…

We paid the check on the way out the door and Stellan walked out of the bathroom like a rock star walks out onto the stage. This guy really thought he had done something by whipping his dick out. I looked at Mark and asked: “can you imagine what it would be like to work with these people?” slightly terrified that just minutes earlier I had seriously entertained the prospect.
Mark looked back at me and said: “Chris, you’re a writer. Imagine the kind of material you’d have to work with.” And I have to admit that for just an instant the prospect did intrigue me, but after that instant passed the only thing that stayed in my mind was the picture of Stellan and his prominently displayed cock in the men’s room and that was not an image that I wanted sticking in my head day in and day out for a two and a half week shoot.

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