“I feel hypocritical saying this, but I don’t want you to cash in on the bondage thing. I know that was your job, I know that stuff paid for our house, I know there are scores of women who would love to be tied up and flogged by you, but I’m not comfortable with highlighting that part of your career.”
“It doesn’t have to be the hardcore stuff,” I attempt to explain. “Shawnna said I could pick what I wanted, so I just won’t pick anything you think is too extreme.”
“I don’t want to boss you around about this stuff,” she refutes. “I don’t want to be some nagging wife. I don’t want it to be my way or the highway, or for you to agree to shit because you think it’s the path of least resistance from me. Sell whatever you want.”
She turns away and heads toward the bathroom, presumably to hide out from me in the shower while she cools down, but I grab her arm and pull her closer.
“Don’t go,” I say. “You’re pissed off, and I want to talk about it.”
She sighs, but she gives me a slight smile. “I appreciate that. It’s admirable that you want to talk this out, and I’ve always appreciated that communication, but I am pissed off and I don’t want to say something mean.”
“Like what? What could you say that’s so mean you shouldn’t even say it?”
She looks down and takes a deep breath before she opens her mouth again. “I don’t want to be associated with that part of your former life.”
I can tell she’s being cautious, trying not to hurt my feelings, but she has a lot more to say on the subject.
“I feel selfish saying it, but I don’t want you to sell S&M stuff because it reflects on me.”
“How does it reflect on you, Lo?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close to my chest.
“Stop, James,” she whines, pushing me back. “Don’t try to hug me and act like I won’t be mad anymore.”
“Can you explain to me why you’re mad in the first place?”
“Think about it,” she scoffs.
“I am. I have. So tell me.”
“You’re going to sell a James Langdon spanking paddle. It’s got your name on it, your seal of approval and endorsement. People are going to assume you’ve used it, tested out the quality. Who do you think they’re going to assume you used it on?”
“That’s not necessarily true,” I attempt to dispel her theory.
“Isn’t it?” she says, her voice a little firmer. “You tell people to buy nipple clamps, spreader bars, ball gags and shit, and you think they’re not going to naturally assume that these are particular favorites of yours?”
“They’re just going to think this was the stuff I used to use on set, the shit I’m known for.”
“I don’t want people thinking I get tied up and fucked every night!” she snaps, wiggling out of my gentle hold. “I’m a vanilla girl, James. I don’t want to be punished, I don’t want to be collared, I don’t want a spanking or a flogging, or to be bound to a fucking St. Andrew’s cross, and I don’t want people to think that I like those things either!”
“Okay, calm down,” I say, reaching out to take her hands.
“No!” she angrily replies, pulling back. “I already deal with people making assumptions about our sex life. People think I’m wild in the bedroom because I can keep up with a fucking porn star. And you’re known as this dominant guy, so I’m sure everyone thinks I just obey you and service you whenever you demand it. I hate that people even think about the way I might be having sex with my husband, let alone that they’re probably jumping to the wrong conclusions.”
“But see what you just said? You said probably. You don’t even know if that’s what they’re doing. You’re the one assuming.”
“I’m not your submissive! You’re not my master, or my ‘Daddy,’ or my ‘Sir’ or whatever it is you want to call it,” she says, stepping a full foot back from me. “You don’t act like that with me, so why put the vibe out there that I’m a fucking collared slave for you?”
“I don’t think this is putting that vibe out there.”
She gives me a glare and steps toward the door. “Move,” she says, trying to get around me.
“No.” I stop in front of her, blocking her path.
“I’m done talking about this.”
“No, you’re not.”
“James! Move!”
“Nope.” I shake my head and put my hands on her shoulders, walking her back until she takes a seat on the bed.
She crosses her arms and looks away, scoffing to herself.
“All the shit I used to do is in the past,” I calmly explain, kneeling on the floor in front of her. “These are just products, things for other people to use. Me and the Electric Lady team had a big talk about it today. It’s stuff for couples to enjoy together. I’ll put out some lighter BDSM products that people can use to spice things up in their relationships, produce a few softcore, female-friendly videos, and pretty soon my brand will be synonymous with passion—sensual stuff that isn’t about power and dominance.”
She glares at me before asking, “Produce a few videos? Now you’re producing?”
“Yeah, probably,” I reply, trying to keep everything light. “We talked about doing a ‘James Langdon Presents’ series with stuff I could produce. Glossy stuff, very professional.”
“So you’re going to make porn again?” she responds with a frustrated sigh as she slaps her hands on her knees.
“I’m not going to be in porn again.”
She tries to get up, but I nudge her back down onto the bed.
“You’re just going to produce porn. Then maybe someday you’ll direct. And then after that, you can go right back to backdooring some girl on camera!”
“Lola, stop it,” I say, holding her hips so she won’t get up and try to take off again. “I am done with any and all on-camera work. Do you understand?”
That only gets a scowl.
“If I launch this new product line, if I produce some movies, it changes nothing about our relationship. I will still be devoted to you—and only you. You will still be the most important thing in my life, and I will still spend every day treasuring you just like I do now.”
“You’ll just be treasuring me from afar while you tell two people how to fuck on a porn set!” she barks.
“I won’t be on the fuckin’ set, Lola!” I shake my head with frustration. “I will have the most boring job ever. It’s a bunch of office work, babe, just setting shit up for other people, and I won’t be near any lights, cameras, or action.”
She’s silent for a second while she leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling. “‘Nice to meet you, Lola. What does your husband do?’ He sells nipple clamps and produces movies that usually end with a guy coming on a girl’s face. ‘What does your child’s father do for a living?’ He has a line of spanking paddles and he’s great at fucking a girl’s throat in front of a room full of people. But—don’t worry—he doesn’t do that to me. No, he’s just known for spanking girls until their asses turn red. He’s just got a whole bunch of products used for dominating women, but he doesn’t do that with me. Everyone will believe that, right?”
“I think you’re putting more thought into this than you should,” I quietly murmur.
“I don’t want some kind of skewed power dynamic in our relationship,” she says. “I don’t want to be beneath you, and I don’t want you to be beneath me. There were collars in that book, James. Collars! If you think for two seconds that I want people to assume you’ve made me wear a collar, then you are sorely mistaken!”
“Nobody’s assuming that, Lola.”
“I get that people enjoy that lifestyle, and more power to them, but I will not participate in that. I’m not into it. I never will be. I don’t want people thinking I’m into power exchanges and punishments because you’re selling fucking whips and chains!”
“Okay, calm down for a second,” I say in a cool, collected tone. “You’re winding yourself up really bad right now,
and you need to just take a breath and stop going crazy with this.”
“We have to think about the future, James,” she says, just a little more relaxed than before. “We have to think about five years from now, ten years from now. What about when we eventually have a family and we have to deal with shit?”
I think back to Shawnna’s words, about how she said her son didn’t want her around his school events when he was growing up, and how he used to get picked on because his mom was a porn star. I’d hate to think I doomed our future kid to the same fate.
“What do you want me to do, Lola? I’m not going to get some normal job now. I have no real education, and nobody’s going to be like, ‘Hey, you’re that porn guy, right? Yeah, come be the Vice President of our company.’ This is what I know how to do, this is what I’m good at, and I can fuckin’ rock it at these movies. I can make the best shit anyone’s ever seen, and make us shitloads of money too.”
“It’s not about the money, James,” she mutters. “I know this is your world, and I want to support you, but I am fucking terrified of you being on a set and wanting to jump back into it.”
“How about this,” I propose, “if ever there’s a time when I have to go to a set—which will probably be never—you’ll come with me? You can see how it really works, see how not-at-all-sexy it is, and you can keep an eye on me if you want.”
She raises her eyebrow, and I can tell she’s considering it. “You’d want me to come to a porn set with you?”
“Yeah.” I nod my head. “I want you to see it for yourself. I think you’ll change your tune a little once you see what it’s like.”
“Fine,” she says defiantly. “You’re on.”
I smile at the way she’s being Miss Call-Your-Bluff. I like that side of Lola, the rebellious, sassy, fuck-you-I-refuse-to-do-what-you-tell-me side that challenges me. This girl is no submissive, and I dig that.
I go to kiss her, but she puts her fingers over my lips and pushes me back. “Don’t try to kiss me when I want to slap you for springing this porn shit on me.”
I snicker and tug her hand away. “If you just went ahead and slapped me, would you let me kiss you after? Because I’m willing to take a good slap if it means I get to kiss my gorgeous, angelic, pissed off wife.”
She can’t help but smile, and this time she doesn’t block me when I give her a quick kiss. “You’re such a little shit!” she says through a laugh.
“Sorry you’re so in love with me that you can’t be mad at me for very long,” I tease with my cockiest grin.
“Smart-ass. But, James, I’m serious, no fucking torture toys!”
“How about we go through the book together?” I propose, trying to be sweet and cute. “We could look through it, I’ll tell you all the uses for various stuff, and if you think it’s okay, we’ll mark it for the ‘maybe’ pile. Once we have it narrowed down, you can veto shit you don’t like.”
She rolls her eyes at herself as a smile spreads across her lips. “I get full veto power?”
“As long as we have enough to at least send something to Shawnna.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, stud.”
We shake on it, and I scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder and giving her butt a little spank.
“Why do you have to make everything ten times harder than it needs to be?” I tease. “You always have to be such a tough chick all the time that you pick a fight with me on shit that we can easily solve.”
“I like to make my opinions known,” she says, giggling from her upside down position.
“Oh, they’re known.” I laugh as I take her back into the living room and toss her down on the couch. “I could write a fuckin’ book on your opinions, cupcake.”
“Shut up!” She blushes and does that cute thing where she looks up at me through her eyelashes.
“So,” I sigh as I pick up the binder, “I’m guessing anal beads are out.”
“That just goes without saying,” she replies with a laugh.
“I get it,” I say, shrugging. “Some of this shit’s too hardcore for you, and that’s cool with me.”
“Some of this shit is the stuff of medieval torture dungeons. It’s like the Spanish Inquisition in this whole section.”
“And I bet you weren’t expecting that,” I say, lining her up for the joke.
“Well,” she replies with a grin, “nobody does.”
I hold up my hand for a high five, and she laughs hard. A hot wife who will go right for the Monty Python reference, and who loves me so much she’ll kiss me instead of slapping me? Jackpot, baby!
We spend the next couple hours going through the book, marking out things with those little Post-it flags. By the end, I’m actually quite happy with what we’ve agreed on, and I think she’s pretty pleased with it too.
Chapter 14
Lola
I THINK THE WEDDING STRESS is finally starting to catch up with me. I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours at my mom’s house, a quick trip for the dress fitting, and I feel so worn down now. I’m worried about the ceremony, everyone getting along and enjoying themselves, porn stars coexisting in harmony with family members, and all the usual wedding stuff, but I’m also a little worried about what the future might hold.
Frankly, I’m a little nervous about the possibility of James returning to porn. It would be like putting Michael Jackson on a stage and telling him he’s not allowed to sing or dance. Those are the things he was born to do, just like James was born to shoot gorgeous, steamy, holy-hell-that’s-erotic sex scenes. I know he says he didn’t feel pressure to quit because of me, but I can’t help but wonder how happy and successful he might be right now if we had just stayed friends and never fallen in love.
In addition to that primary freak out, I’m also concerned about how we’re going to lead “normal” lives in the shadow of his porn stardom. I get a shitload of new Instagram followers every time he posts a pic of me, I’ve got an inbox full of weird Facebook friend requests, and I even get tweets from girls telling me they want to have a threesome with me and my husband. It can be a bit disconcerting. Imagine how difficult this is going to be when we eventually have children. I’m sure it will have mellowed out by then, since I’m thinking we can wait about five years, but he wants to keep his profile up so he can continue to make money off his brand name. It’s a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t do porn stuff, he won’t be able to earn the kind of money he’s earning now, and I know that will make him start to feel like a failure. If he does porn stuff, we’ll have to deal with that stigma for decades. Our kids will have to deal with it. Shit, even their kids might have to deal with it. The man was an adult film superstar, and his fame isn’t going anywhere.
I talked to my mom a bit about it, and she said that I knew all this going into the relationship, but that it’s clear I love James, so I need to come to terms with everything included in that package. The love we have for each other is indescribably strong, and that’s the backbone of our relationship, but there are definitely going to be times where keeping everything together might be tough. My mother is of the belief that we should only consider having children when some other it-guy pops up in that world and James wouldn’t be in the public eye as much. I didn’t disagree. But she also said that the Internet is forever, and those videos will be around for years. The discussion involved porn stars like Linda Lovelace, Marilyn Chambers, John Holmes and Seka. Some of their videos are almost forty years old, but a quick Google search means a whole new generation can watch them. Even after they die, porn stars are still remembered as porn stars. It’s going to be tough to deal with that for the rest of my life.
I’m starting to get a headache when James picks me up from LAX and chats with me about the trip on the drive home. I tell him how my mom is basically bursting with excitement and can’t wait to see us get married. Brenda is apparently even worse, and the two have been hanging out a lot and planning our entire future in their minds. James is amused when I tell him this,
and he says he’s excited too. So am I. I just have this little, annoying voice in my head that tells me the wedding could be a huge disaster and that our relationship has progressed way too fast.
My darling husband has made shrimp fajitas for dinner, and everything feels perfect and normal as we eat. These are the times when I can relax, when nothing worries me. For the majority of my life, there’s no one I’ve enjoyed hanging out with more than James. We just click. We’re a lot alike, and our differences are complementary, so we’re basically the perfect pair. I have no doubt that we’ll be happy together forever, since simply being around him makes me feel good, but there will always be those external factors—namely, porn—that have the potential to present a problem down the road.
“You okay, baby?” he says when he sees that I’m lost in thought.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m good.”
“You sure?” he asks. I love that he’s so observant, but I also hate it because he knows instantly when something’s bothering me, and he can see through any façade I build to hide it.
“I’m okay. I’m just super tired. I think I was going a million miles an hour, and the second I got home my body just crashed.”
He smiles and reaches out, taking my hand and running his thumb over my knuckles. “Then let me take care of you for the rest of the night, huh?”
“Okay, but I don’t know that I have enough energy for anything too wild,” I say, yawning.
“No, I don’t mean take care of you like that,” he says with a laugh. “I just mean get you comfy, help you get some rest.”
“But it’s been a couple days. I know you’re probably eager to get back into the swing of things.”
“I’m not gonna fuck my exhausted wife just ’cause I’d like to get laid.” His smile turns softer. “You need to get your little ass in bed and get some sleep or you’re going to wear yourself out before the wedding.”
“Did I already mention how I’m in love with you?” I ask appreciatively.
“It’s not like I’ll ever get tired of hearing it, so feel free to tell me as many times as you want.”
Vice, Virtue & Video: Devoted Page 16
