Truth Behind the Fantasy of Porn

by Shelley Lubben

  I walked over to the creepy man holding a cigarette and answered carefully, “Yeah, I’m her.”

  His eyes licked me up and down as I handed him my AIDS test. “You’ll do just fine,” he said. He shifted his weight forward and asked, “What’s your porn name, honey?”

  Uh … that’s a good question. Well, I partied last night at the Roxy in Hollywood, I thought. So yeah, I’ll call myself Roxy. He nodded when I told him my new name and I wondered where I could find a bathroom to down some Jack.

  A naked woman, blonde and sexy, walked into the room. Her purple pumps clicked as she came toward me. “I can’t wait,” she said, eyes on my flesh. “Our scene is next. You’re with me.”

  Jack, I thought. I need Jack now.

  I hurried my way to the back where I saw G-strings and sex toys thrown on the floor in a worn out room where naked girls were changing. The bathroom was in the back, but I didn’t want people to think I was a baby for changing alone. So I walked to a corner in the room, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and took a huge gulp of Jack Daniels. The smell of sex and alcohol filled my nose.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said to myself, chasing my words with another gulp of Jack Daniels.

  But prostitution and stripping almost killed me, I reasoned. Anyway, porn was legal.

  I downed some more Jack and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “Okay, everyone,” shouted a guy from the other room. “Time to shoot.”

  Oh shit, I thought. I fastened my red bra, took another swig, then hurried out of the room to the couch where two porn stars were sitting. I was scared to death.

  “You can do this, Shelley,” I lied to myself as I straightened my skirt and my fake smile led me over to the couch. Thoughts raced through my mind. How the hell should I greet someone I was about to have sex with?

  “Hey, I’m Roxy and I’ll be having sex with you.”

  “Hi, nice to meet you. I guess we’re having sex today.”

  Okay, that’s weird.

  I practiced the words in my mind but it was too late and I was standing next to the camera before I knew it. Purple-pump-girl and some airhead blonde giggled as the director told us the scene was about a professor who was going to teach naughty college girls how to get an “A”.

  How stupid, I thought.

  The director proudly finished explaining his Academy Award winning scene with a loud clap and, “Let’s do it.”

  Okay, Spielberg.

  Lights, camera, action. We were off. And apparently the crew wanted to get off, too. Most of them had their hands down their pants as the scene started. I noticed out of the corner of my eye as the blonde girl started baby talking to the professor about how she needed a good lesson.

  This is ridiculous, I thought.

  The terrible acting blonde girl went on and on about her bad grades and then pointed to me saying she had a friend who needed a lesson too. Wrong. I would be the one to teach them a lesson. Filled with Jack Daniels and a renewed zeal, I grabbed the girl by the neck and showed them my version of the scene. The director loved it.

  “Wow, Roxy, you’re so hot. Keep going, baby.” The fleshy director fed my starved ego. “Mmmm. … you could be the next biggest porn star with talent like that.”

  Random thoughts bounced around in my mind. I loved it. I hated it. I loved the attention. I loved the camera. I hated that I had to have some stupid girl’s tongue in my mouth. Yuck.

  At that moment a very dark presence came over me.

  “I’ll make you famous and everyone will love you,” the familiar voice hissed. The presence was so thick it made me look around to see if anyone was there. Suddenly a powerful urge to be the best and destroy everyone in my path overwhelmed me.

  Rage rose up. Years and years of rage against my father and all the men who ever hurt me washed over me. I ravaged my blonde victim like a wild animal out for innocent blood.

  She was no match for my wrath as I shoved her off of the couch. Her mascara smeared eyes looked up at me in fear while she lay there holding the red marks on her arms.

  Suddenly the director interrupted, “Okay, I need the money shot. Face to the camera, Roxy. Show me your killer eyes.”

  “The professor” pulled out of the other blonde and ejaculated all over my face while I pretended to love every minute of it. The taste of bitter fluid and degradation filled my mouth. Suddenly shame and guilt swept over me just like when I was a little girl. Fighting the urge to cry, I turned my head to sniff up my tears.

  “Beautiful, Roxy. What a shot,” the director said as he clapped. Then some guy threw the Baby Wipes at me. I wanted to die.

  I wiped the “professor’s” goo off of my face cursing his name under my breath. I didn’t want anyone to see my pain. No way would I let them see me suffer.

  When I looked up the director was already talking about the next scene. What happened to me being the next big porn star?

  The director gave me a card, paid me, and then told me to go meet Bobby.

  Cash in my purse, Jack in my veins, wrath in my heart I was determined to become the next big porn star. I’d prove everyone wrong and get back at all the men who ever hurt me. And I’d make them pay.

  Fame, fortune and sweet revenge.

  XI

  Admit One

  Used and Abused

  Chapter Eleven

  With a hunger for money and a lust for revenge, I soon took the plunge into professional porn films. Not long after my first porn scene I showed in up in Van Nuys where I caught the eye of top porn producer, Bobby Hollander.

  “What a beautiful pair of hips,” a man with an open neck shirt and gold chain greeted me. He looked like he was in the Mafia. I played it cool and told him so-and-so had sent me and he nodded. He invited me to sit on his lap where he gently instructed me on how to further my “modeling” career. He was one of the most affectionate men I had ever met.

  “Roxy, you have beautiful hips. I want you to be in my new movie.”

  I told him I would do it but that I still had my heart set on professional acting and modeling. “Sure, baby, you’re a pretty girl. But porn can help you get into Hollywood.”

  I trusted him. Tender and encouraging, he was like a father to me.

  I showed up on the set of my first “real” porn movie in 1993. When I walked in through the doors of a luxury home, I was a nervous wreck. Bobby tried to soothe me and make me feel comfortable.

  “Hey everybody, this is Roxy. She’s a new rising star,” Bobby said as he put his arm around me. Peter North smiled at me.

  “Hi, everyone.” I was at a loss for words. It was hard to keep a straight face while shaking hands with naked porn stars in broad daylight.

  “Hey Bobby, where’s the restroom?” I asked in desperation.

  “It’s there in the back to the left, doll.” He pointed towards the hall.

  “Great, thanks.” I quickly walked to the bathroom, shut the door, locked it and pulled out some Vodka. Gulp. I stopped and stared at myself in the mirror.

  I can’t go through with this, I thought.

  A knock on the door woke me out of my daze and I answered, “Yes?”

  “Hey Roxy, did you get your enema?”

  Oh God, I worried. Did she just say enema?

  I took another swig and answered back, “Uh, no, why would I need one of those?”

  “It’s for the dildo scene.”

  Gulp. I guzzled the vodka down until I worked up enough nerve to come out of the bathroom.

  Filled with liquid courage I walked across the hall to where the women were changing. Thank God their scene was before mine because it gave me some time to think. Staring at an empty corner, I sensed another Person in the room with me.

  What was He doing here?

  Damn, I thought. The last thing I wanted was for Jesus to visit me on a porn set. No thanks. I grabbed my Vodka and guzzled it down. Then I reminded Him that He wasn’t paying my bills; I had to do
what I had to do.

  “Shelley, please don’t do this. I have something better for you,” a Voice whispered.

  “God, please leave me alone. I have to do this.” I turned my head in shame and the pain began to surface. I pulled up my nylons, ignored my pain and walked out of the room.

  With a little help from Vodka and a whole lot of help from Liar, I entered into one of the most traumatizing moments of my career. The last thing I remember is gritting my teeth while Nikki Sinn used and abused me with a spiked dildo.

  I wanted to die.

  I swore to myself that would be the last porn film I made and I called up old Hollywood contacts. A part for a harem girl opened up so I immediately took off to Los Angeles.

  When I arrived to the audition there were hundreds of other girls just like me. Out of several hundred women, only 250 of us got the part as naked harem girls in the movie, “Don Juan Demarco”. When the chain smoking Johnny Depp walked by to enjoy the scenery, I pointed to him and blurted out, “Hey, why does he get to smoke?”

  He looked at me like I was crazy and walked away leaving a cloud of smoke behind him. I didn’t care what he thought. I was the one who had to work in the buff for eight hours on a non-smoking set.

  Whenever Hollywood didn’t work out and I became desperate for cash, I fell back into porn. I hated the thought of having some man’s bodily fluids on my face so I tried to only do girl/girl lesbian scenes. Even though I wasn’t a wholehearted lesbian, I could definitely fake an orgasm. Prostitution taught me that.

  My first lesbian scene I was really nervous, especially when I saw the American flag on a bedspread. Guilt swept over me when a flashback to 1976 reminded me that I bought a bicentennial plate for my mother. I was such a patriotic little girl back then. But that girl didn’t exist anymore, I told myself.

  When the camera started rolling the first words out of my mouth were, “I don’t think I can do this.” Giggling to play the part of a first time lesbian, it helped to hide my extreme embarrassment. When the camera zoomed in and focused on me, I really felt pressure to perform.

  “Hi, I’m Roxy,” I tried to sound like Marilyn Monroe. I was actually a chain smoker with a worn out raspy voice. I was so embarrassed.

  Suddenly the director moved the camera to the other girl’s belly button. When I looked over there was a dog sniffing her leg. I couldn’t believe it.

  What a scum sucking deal this is, I thought.

  I wanted to get the scene over with so I made a move to show off the girl’s sexy tattoo. But when I pulled her garter to the side, I was shocked to see a Cross on her hip. She said it was a “God-given” thing but it was a hell of a sign for me.

  I tried to shake the awful feeling and focus on the scene but the damn tattoo was a reminder of Who was also in the room.

  God, I need a drink, I thought.

  The evil inside of me was aroused and it gave me strength to finish the scene. Within seconds I was transformed into a wild animal, an entirely different person than the nervous girl in the beginning. A ravenous pig throughout, the scene ended with me licking myself.

  I went home to Jack Daniels that night and washed all my guilt and filth away. I hated how foul I smelled after making porn.

  A week later I showed up on the same set and desecrated the American flag once again. Only this time I gave in and degraded myself with a man. I wondered if the bedspread had been washed.

  The word spread quickly that a new “energetic” double D blonde had hit the porn scene and I started getting phone calls.

  “Roxy, I need you for a movie with Dave Hardman.”

  “Roxy, this is Rodney Moore. I’m a friend of Bobby’s.”

  “Roxy, I need you for a double D scene.”

  “Hey Roxy, I’ll put you on the front cover of my movie if you do an anal scene.”

  No anal, I promised myself. I had already given into pressure by porn producers to do scenes with men. That was bad enough. Enduring hours of dirty sets, filthy men and their horrible body odors was way beyond my limit. I couldn’t imagine one of these dirty men penetrating me anally. It was unthinkable. I hadn’t even done that in prostitution.

  Luckily, the fake boobs gave me an edge and I could avoid the unthinkable for a while. I also discovered that I could make money as a porn star prostitute. One of the top porn producers I worked for offered me big money to give “privates” to high dollar clients.

  “Roxy, now that your movies are out in adult theatres, fans will pay top dollar to spend time with you.”

  I hated the idea of doing prostitution again but I hated porn even more. When I was offered $2,500 to spend a weekend with a rich lawyer, I reluctantly agreed and took the next flight out to Phoenix where I met Howard, the meth addict.

  A whole weekend on meth almost killed me. Not only could Howard “go” for hours but he wouldn’t shut up. Not to mention he refused to wear a condom. I tried everything I could think of to make him wear it but he reminded me of the large sum of money I was being paid. When I called up my new “pimp” to complain he said, “Don’t worry, he’s clean.”

  How the hell does he know if he’s clean, I thought.

  When I returned from Arizona I slept for two straight days. After a terrible hangover and $2,500 in cash, I wasted my money on shoes, bras, boas and booze. When I showed up to work with my purple suitcase, I looked like every other jaded porn star. Worn out, wasted and just wanted to get the damn scenes over with.

  Damn, I wish this guy would hurry up and cum, I thought.

  Damn, I felt so used and abused.

  XII

  Admit One

  Human Hell

  Chapter Twelve

  “Harder, f—k me harder!” I viciously screamed back.

  The vulgar words shot out of my mouth as I was forcefully and anally penetrated by a brutal male performer. When screaming wasn’t enough to endure the pain, I stuffed another man’s penis into my mouth like a human pacifier. The sucking helped relieve the pain. Breathing deeply through my nostrils, the stench of bodily fluids filled my burning lungs. Rotten, dirty foul anal smells; I was in a human hell.

  I couldn’t get out of it. There was no crying allowed. I saw what happened to other girls who cried and wrecked scenes. I wasn’t going to get yelled at or worse, punched in the face. Besides, this was my chance to prove to the world that I was the best.

  So I took the stabbing pain. Hard, fast and furious I screamed myself through the violent thrusts.

  “F—k me, f—k me!” I yelled louder.

  F—k them, I thought! No damn man could ever hurt me. I swore it with every violent thrust. Nothing they could do to me would have an effect on me. Filthy wild pigs, they were nothing but poles I used to pay my bills. Gritting my teeth in denial, the powerful lies in my head repeated to the slapping sound of each violent thrust.

  Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.

  Take it, Shelley. Take the pain. Show them you can take it. Breathe, just breathe, Shelley.

  “Oh God, oh God,” I cried out in pain.

  Hell no, I told myself. I’m not going to let these assholes see me suffer.

  So I hid the excruciating pain by pretending it was pure pleasure. But it was pure hell.

  With six men penetrating me in every hole and way possibly imaginable, I became sicker and more twisted. When I became too weak to endure the pain, Satan himself entered me to give me unlimited strength. My green eyes became black and dilated. A hellish look on my face, I snarled into the camera.

  Then the male pigs pulled out of me one by one and sprayed their liquid filth all over my red pointed face. A mouthful of bitter fluids and feces, I pretended to love every nauseating minute of it.

  “Oh yeah baby, I love it,” I lied through my tightly clenched teeth. The scene ended with the final guy who could barely squeeze out a drop. What a pig.

  Someone threw me some Baby Wipes and told me what a good job I did. Wiping off the goo from my nose, mouth and eyes, the bitter taste from the male
pigs stuck to the bottom of my throat.

  Vodka, I thought. I need Vodka now.

  I lifted myself to go to the bathroom but when I sat up the pain shot throughout my body. I grabbed a Baby Wipe and gently reached around to clean my red swollen ballooned ass.

  Damn that hurt, I cursed.

  Hobbling toward the shower, someone was using it.

  Great, I thought. I’m the one with a face full of glop and some male pig beat me to the shower. I grabbed some more Baby Wipes and headed to the room where my bags were instead.

  “That wasn’t so bad after all, now was it, Roxy,” said a male performer while I wiped the goo off my face.

  “Go to hell,” I told him.

  That night I went home and smoked some weed and played the Ouija board to relax. When I asked my spirit guide what his name was, He spelled out:

  JESUS CHRIST

  XIII

  Admit One

  Last Chance: Final Act

  Chapter Thirteen

  As the days grew deadlier and the nights grew darker, I knew something was very wrong with me. I went from performing in girl/girl scenes to performing in brutal rape scenes within months. Every minute was pure hell and yet, I thrived in the darkness. It had become my comforter, a hiding place for all of my ugliness. Six years of performing in strip clubs, I felt at ease in the dark. It also empowered me. A powerfully dark woman, I could slip into any character from victim to abuser. I could walk into a room as an angel of light or I could dominate a soul and torture it. I could pretend to be a glamorous porn star and love every minute of the abuse or act as the abuser and forcefully destroy my victims. Porn was the perfect place for me to act out my diverse abilities. Pornographers loved it. In fact, the darker I became, the richer pornographers became.

  As I continued to make harder and grosser porn, I transformed from victim into abuser. In my professional life, I began to act out like a man and abuse women on camera. With a strapped on dildo, I did to women exactly what men had done to me. I even knew how to selfishly stroke myself like a man. All those years in prostitution watching male pigs paid off. The men in porn were even worse pigs, ejaculating themselves on any weak woman on any sacred place on her body. I acted out in revenge the very thing I hated: a male pig.