by Jason Luke
“So how do you create interaction?”
I sighed. “It’s not always easy,” I admitted. “I try to work with girls I am comfortable with, and who are comfortable with me,” I said. “Having an established relationship that we’ve built up over previous films makes the connection effortless each time we perform together. In other cases – if it is a new girl I have never met before – I try to spend some time with her when I am casting.”
“You mean you have sex with her?”
I shook my head. “No. We just chat and I film her for a few minutes. I want to know in advance if the girl will be right for the scene I have in mind. I can sense that in their personality and in their attitude. The best women to work with are the nymphomaniacs and the ones who like to show off their bodies.”
“Exhibitionists?”
“Yeah, they’re the best women for porn films,” I said. “The worst ones are the girls who are only working for the money, or maybe because they’re curious. They generally only do a few films and then disappear. Porn is tough. You have to love your work, or you won’t have any longevity in the industry.”
Connie paused to write, and then looked up at me suddenly. She was frowning. “What about prostitutes?” she asked. “Have you ever worked with call girls? I imagine women in that line of work would be ideal for these kind of films.”
I shook my head. “Hookers are even worse to work with than the ones who come on set just for the money.”
“Really? I find that hard to understand.”
“It’s not,” I explained. “It’s actually makes perfect sense. You see prostitutes often feel ashamed of the work they do – and they definitely regard sex as just work. Sex isn’t pleasure for them, it’s their job, so they don’t enjoy themselves.”
Connie looked thoughtful for a moment. She flipped back through several pages of notes, rereading them silently while I watched. Then she looked up at me, her brow frowned in preparation for another question.
“What nationality of women do you think are best suited to the porn industry? Do you have any preferences?”
I nodded. “It has been my experience that women from Eastern Europe are more passionate and more in touch with their sexuality than women from the west,” I said.
“You mean American girls?”
“I mean girls from the west in general,” I said, side stepping any direct criticism of girls from the States.
“Why do you think women in Europe have that sexuality that you mentioned?”
“I don’t think some women have a sexuality and others don’t,” I explained carefully. “I simply feel that women in Eastern Europe are more connected to that sexuality I believe all women possess within them. The girls in the west seem to have lost touch with that raw power.” I shrugged. “Maybe it’s because girls in the west have so many other distractions – the technology, the shopping – it’s like they have lost touch with that part of themselves to a certain extent. The girls in Eastern Europe generally come from poorer economies. They don’t have the same depth of distraction. Maybe that’s why they have retained the sexual energy and instinctive feminine desire that manifests itself on film.”
Connie made quick notes and then looked up again. “Have you made a lot of porn films, Mr. Cassidy?”
I smiled and held up a hand. “Call me Rick,” I insisted.
Connie nodded cautiously. “Okay… Rick.”
I kept smiling. “Yes,” I confirmed. “Over three hundred.”
She made a whistling sound of wonder through pursed lips. “That’s a lot of sex.”
“With a lot of women,” I acknowledged. “And in many of my films I often have sex with several different girls in each scene.”
She looked distracted and thoughtful, like maybe she was trying to work out the number of women I had been with. She was silent for a long moment, and then seemed to rouse herself.
“Do you have a favorite film?”
I thought about that. “No…” I said slowly. “I honestly can’t pick out just one film. There have been so many I have liked, for different reasons. I love some films because of the locations we used. I love others because the women I cast were incredible. And there are others I like because my performance was best.”
She frowned. “Your performance changes?”
“Yes.”
“From film to film?”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “It all depends on the women I am working with. Some ladies are not so much fun to do sex scenes with,” I smiled wryly. “We just don’t connect, and the scene falls flat because the energy is missing. Other girls are incredible. They make working with them easy.”
Connie nodded, like she understood, but I knew she didn’t.
She couldn’t possibly understand.
Impulsively, I sprang from the big chair and crossed the room in three strides. I seized Connie by the wrist like we were running late for a date. “Come on,” I said. “Enough talk. Enough theory.”
I dragged her off the lounge and she trailed behind me reluctantly, a moment of alarm flashed across her eyes then faded just as quickly. “It’s time you got to see for yourself what I have been talking about, and what you are determined to despise so much,” I said. “It’s time we watched some porn together.”
Chapter 4.
The house had its own home theatre room at the end of the hall, and down a flight of steps. The room had been purpose-built in the basement, and the walls were sound-proofed. I leaned through the doorway and switched on the lights, then led Connie into a room that was about fifteen feet long and maybe a dozen feet wide. The walls were painted black, the ceilings dark wood paneling. There were three plush theatre seats in a line across the room, set before a massive television screen. I gestured for Connie to make herself comfortable, and I sat in the seat beside her.
“The monitor is connected to a state-of-the-art sound system,” I explained. Built into the armrests of each seat was a console. I found the remote controls, and switched off the room lightning. For a moment we were plunged into deep silent darkness, and then the big television screen burst to life with music and a montage of erotic images.
“This is the film I wrapped up just last month,” I explained. “We shot in Europe in a number of different locations, and did the post production work at my facilities on the farm. No one has seen the finished movie yet – it won’t be released worldwide for another couple of months.”
In the flickering light of the screen I could see Connie’s expression, pensive and cautious. The music in the background swelled and then began to fade away and after thirty seconds, the title of the film appeared.
‘A Hard Day’s Night.’
Written and directed by Rick Cassidy.
“Wait!” Connie said suddenly. I felt her hand grope for my wrist in the darkness.
I stabbed ‘pause’ on the remote control and turned my face to hers. Light from the big screen played across the features of her face, softening them.
“Written?” she asked, bemused. “You take credit for writing a script?”
I looked at her, my features impassive. “Yes,” I said. “Although it’s not a Hollywood script,” I conceded, “it’s still a script.”
Connie said nothing, and her silence was mocking.
I went on, “Writing, and planning a porn film is more about creating the atmosphere. It’s more about trying to visualize and capture on paper the sense of the scene I want and the general dynamics, rather than specific dialogue,” I said. “My films are all about reality – real emotions, and real settings, so it’s impossible for me to write dialogue when so much depends on the interplay between the actors. Once I confine them to a script, I lose the spontaneity of what they really feel and say.”
I pressed ‘play’ on the remote.
The screen faded to black for an instant and then filled again with a light, airy interior shot. The camera panned across an opulent room with marble floors. The furnishings were luxurious. There were e
legant gold-framed paintings on the walls and clusters of delicate antique side tables. The camera slowly settled on an exquisite sofa, trimmed in gold and covered in plush velvet cushions. Perched on the edge of the sofa, sitting with her legs wide apart and her feet poised in impossibly high heels, was a beautiful young woman with long golden hair hanging down past her shoulders. She was gagged with a silk scarf, and there were leather bracelets about her wrists. She was wearing a high-collared top, the fabric so sheer that the shape and swell of her naked breasts underneath showed clearly through the gossamer silk.
The camera lingered on the woman’s face and then drifted down to show the tiny patch of black lace between her parted thighs that covered her sex.
I leaned close in the darkened theatre room, my voice hushed. “We filmed this scene in a mansion on the Elbe River,” I explained. “One of my production crew found the location and we filmed scenes non-stop for three days while the owners were in Paris.”
Connie said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the big screen, her expression astonished.
The camera moved almost reluctantly away from the pretty blonde, drifting left until a pair of black high-heels crept into frame. The camera followed the heels to reveal a second woman, laying on her back with her short skirt rucked up around her waist and her legs wide open. She was laying on the floor, her head propped on a cushion, dark hair fanned around her. The woman had her eyes closed, her lipsticked mouth open in a silent moan, and her fingers were thrust down inside her panties.
“That’s Astrid,” I said. “She’s one of my favorite girls to work with. She’s an absolute nymphomaniac.”
In the background, the mic picked up the sound of footsteps, then panned back to reveal me, striding onto the set. I was wearing an expensive grey suit. I stood, my eyes admiring for a moment, and then the camera swung to the broad of my back and followed me as I went towards the girl on the sofa. She looked up into my eyes, her expression pleading. She held her hands out to me and I took them, lifting her to her feet. The girl on the screen leaned close and I wrapped my arms around her, letting my fingers slowly trace their way down over her bottom until I was rubbing the gap between her legs with my open palm. The camera swooped down, shooting the scene from between the girl’s parted thighs as she began to rock her hips to press her sex harder against my touch.
“Emotion,” I said suddenly to Connie. “These girls are eastern European. They don’t speak English so everything has to be conveyed through their expressions. It’s sexier than dialogue.”
I saw Connie nod her head and then my eyes went back to the screen.
The blonde actress was moaning softly through the gag as my fingers pressed at the damp fabric of her panties that covered her pussy. The camera angle changed to show a wide shot and revealed the dark haired girl staring across the room at us in fascination. I turned the blonde girl’s face towards the other woman, and whispered into her ear, “She’s watching us. She’s stroking her clit because watching us together turns her on so much.”
The blonde girl’s eyes became hooded and she leaned against me as though needing my support to stand. With my free hand, I untied the knotted scarf, and the gag fell away from her mouth. She gasped, and then closed her eyes and threw her head back. The camera angle changed again, coming in close between the girl’s parted thighs to reveal my fingers now sliding deep within her, coated with the moistness of her arousal.
The shot stayed tight for long seconds, and then gradually panned back.
“I like to shoot sex scenes so that they flow,” I leaned across in my seat and whispered to Connie. “One of the things I strive for is continuity. This scene you are watching now was filmed in one long take. I didn’t cut and then recut – I simply filmed the sex as it evolved between myself and the girls on screen so that what you’re seeing is what actually happened on the day of filming.” I paused for a moment, glanced at the screen, then glanced back to Connie. “A lot of porn films are shot with just one camera, so they’re constantly filming the same action again and again from different angles and moving the camera each time. I don’t like to work that way because the sex loses its spontaneity. The only time the camera stopped during this scene was when we were building up to the come shot, because it’s the most important moment of all, and it has to be filmed right.”
On the screen, my hands were roaming across the blonde woman’s breasts, pinching and teasing her nipples. The woman’s mouth was open in a silent moan of pleasure, her eyes fixed on mine, intense and glazing with her arousal.
The camera came in for a close up of our faces as I kissed the blonde.
I leaned close to Connie once more. “Kissing,” I said, as though the word was particularly significant. “It’s one of the real secrets to my films.”
I sensed Connie’s puzzlement. “Really?” she asked, her voice hushed.
“Most porn movies get straight into the action – the physicality of sex,” I said and then shook my head. “I don’t. I take my time when I’m filming a scene to build up the sensuality and the eroticism. For me, kissing is incredibly arousing and full of passion. I want the viewers to understand that the motivation for the sex in every scene has its origins in passion – not just lust.”
The camera angle changed as I broke the kiss and my mouth hunted down the girl’s neck and throat. I tore her blouse open and sucked one of her hard pointed nipples between my lips. The actress arched her back as if to offer herself to me and I devoured her breasts as she entangled her fingers in the hair at the back of my head. The microphone picked up the girl’s sigh of desire and then a smatter of language.
“She’s Russian,” I leaned across in my seat and said to Connie. “This film was the second time I’ve used her. She fucked one of my other actors in a film I made about six months ago. This was the first scene I’d worked with her personally.”
Connie said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, watching the unfolding action as I wrenched the girl’s panties down her thighs and then lead her to where Astrid, the dark haired woman, lay waiting.
The camera angle changed to show Astrid’s view – looking up between the blonde’s parted thighs as she stood astride her with me in the background, the tented shape of my hard cock thrusting stiffly within my pants – and then panned back to capture the three of us as the blonde slowly descended and her knees folded until she was sitting astride Astrid’s face.
I knelt beside the women, my caressing fingers exploring along the length of Astrid’s parted thighs while the blonde woman above her began to grind her hips slowly, rubbing her sex over Astrid’s open mouth. The second camera showed a close up of Astrid’s tongue flickering across the girl’s swollen pussy lips as the blonde woman held herself open with her splayed fingers and undulated her body. When the shot finally cut to a wider view, I had peeled off my jacket and was standing naked but for my shirt. I was stroking myself gently, the length of me swollen hard and massive. The blonde turned her head, saw my erection and opened her mouth wide. I took a single step forward and began to gently thrust myself deeper and deeper into the Russian girl’s willing mouth.
“See my arm?” I leaned across and nudged Connie’s shoulder.
There was a moment’s pause and then she whispered, “No.”
“Exactly,” I said. “As an actor in porn films, you get to understand very quickly about camera angles. What’s happening on the screen is not for my pleasure – it’s for the viewer’s pleasure – and that only comes if they get to see the action. One of the first things an actor in the industry learns is to put his hand closest to the camera behind his back. That’s not because it feels good,” I grinned ruefully. “It’s because it allows the camera an uninterrupted view of the action.”
Connie said nothing, and I began to wonder if my commentary was wasted. There was a peculiar frown of concentration on her face, her expression almost entranced.
Almost…
I gave the cameraman long moments to get his shot and th
en eased my cock from the girl’s mouth. It was glistening wet. The girl made a disappointed pouting face and then rolled her body away from Astrid until the two actresses were laying on the marble floor side by side, facing each other with their arms and legs entwined as though no one else in the world existed.
“Beautiful,” I said impulsively. “Surely the most erotic thing in the world is two women in lust.”
The angle stayed close on the girls kissing mouths, and then swept down their bodies as their hands and fingers began to explore. Astrid rolled the blonde Russian actress onto her back and the camera caught a wicked, sexy gleam in her eye as she moved her mouth down towards the girl’s pussy. It was real. It was one of those treasured moments where the emotion could not be feigned. The hunger and desire in Astrid’s eyes as she settled herself between the blonde’s spread legs was right there on the screen for everyone to see.
The blonde girl reached down and pulled Astrid’s mouth to her pussy, while I moved until I was kneeling between Astrid’s spread thighs. I rubbed the swollen end of my cock against her flared welcoming lips and then slid myself deep within her pussy.
Astrid went stiff for an instant and lowered her head, as she became accustomed to the feel of my length sliding deep inside her. She turned her head, glanced over her shoulder at me, and her lipstick was smudged, her mouth wet with the blonde’s juices.
I settled into a rhythm, the cameras moved for different angles, and for the next few minutes the action on the big screen was intense, building inevitably, so that when Astrid raised herself up on her braced arms I felt the sudden grip of her inner muscles as they began to contract around my cock. Astrid moaned – a raw husky sound torn from deep within her throat – and then she shook her head so that her long black hair broke in a shimmering cascade across her naked shoulders. The Russian girl came up onto her knees and crawled like a stalking cat around to my side. She opened her mouth and looked up at me with wide pleading eyes. I drew my cock from Astrid’s pussy and slid it between the blonde’s hungry lips.
