As most of you know, recently an adult performer tested positive for HIV, and was immediately put under quarantine (as were the two male performers she had recently worked with). When word of a positive result got out, the mainstream media went crazy. I’ve never seen such rampant, unabashedly yellow journalism (maybe because this is the first time I’ve been close enough to an issue to know *what’s really going on* vs. how it’s being reported.) Suffice it to say I’ll never again read the LA Times without one eyebrow cocked. (Not that I ever read it anyway – I’m a New York Times girl.)

I know more about the players in this little drama than I can publicly post, due to privacy issues: Nobody deserves to have their HIV status publicized as long as they’re following proper protocol for keeping others safe. However, I can tell you (note: this information was given to me by credible sources close to the matter but is not first hand knowledge) the performer was new to the industry and had barely worked. The names of the performers under quarantine were completely unfamiliar to me and to most people in my circle, meaning that they were not exactly in the “upper echelons” of porn. That’s another blog topic right there (the question of whether everyone who points a camcorder at a naked body should be considered “Industry). But first, let’s start with a few basic facts.

HIV has not been cured. There is no vaccine. These are truths that we all – not just adult industry performers – live with. Sexually active civilians as well as sex performers are ALL at risk. Any time you have sex (whether cameras or rolling or not!) YOU ARE AT RISK FOR CONTAGIOUS DISEASES.

Condoms break. Diseases that transfer skin-to-skin (such as herpes) are not 100% preventable even when a condom is used. There may even be new diseases on the horizon, something weird and scary that will emerge in two years, five years, ten years, and rock our worlds – why shouldn’t there be? Sex has always been a risky endeavor. If it’s not pregnancy it’s either warts or sores or icky, toxic discharge, or silent diseases that make you go crazy if left untreated (syphilis). Or, now, death itself: an ironic price to pay for an act that causes Life.

Contagious diseases spread – it’s their nature to do so. The fact that HIV is a communicable disease is not the fault of, nor was caused by, the adult industry. We are not responsible for the spread of this disease. As an organized group of sexually active adults, we are in fact uncommonly responsible and accountable and self-regulating in our efforts to prevent it from spreading.

Personally I feel much safer having sex with a porn star than I would a civilian. I’ve dated civilians. They don’t disclose information about their sexual health status. They’re terrified of the stigma associated with admitting they have herpes or genital warts; they often avoid testing altogether. They’re careless and reckless. I’ve experienced this first hand.

Conversely, adult performers live in a culture where it’s mandatory to be open and honest about our sexual health. Nobody I know has any qualms about disclosing their sexual health status to a person with whom they intend to have sex – on camera or off. We also, as a group, have agreed to allow our test results to be made public to other members of our group. Meaning, I can call AIM any time and get the test results of any adult performer I’m working with, or any adult performer I may be thinking of sleeping with off camera. I wish I could do that with civilians, but I can’t. I have to simply hope they’ll be honest with me, and that’s up to them. But rest assured: if they’re dishonest, the LA Times won’t write an article about how a civilian infected ME.

That said, is the adult industry doing all it can to prevent every possible disease from spreading? No. Should adult performers be required to wear condoms? Maybe. We’re taking a look at that now; reviewing the data, exploring the issues. They are not as cut and dried as the mainstream media would have everyone believe.

In my observation, the most widespread STDs in the adult industry are those that are treatable and curable, such as gonorrhea and Chlamydia. I’ll be candid – I do hear of b/g performers contracting these STDs on what could reasonably be termed a frequent basis. It’s not uncommon for a b/g performer to be out of commission for a week or two because they “got sick” and are currently on antibiotics.

This may sound strange but bear with me — to us certain risks are a little bit like those one assumed by a welder, stunt man or even a deli worker. Our job is considered “extreme” and it comes with some inherent risks. If you work with knives, you get cut more often than the Average Joe. If you’re a welder, from time to time burning slag hits you the wrong way and you come home with a burn. You do all you can to prevent these things from happening, but at the end of the day, a high risk job is a high risk job.

Nobody says that a police officer’s job is just too dangerous and that those who wish to become police officers should be protected from themselves. It doesn’t matter how many cops die in the course of their work, or how many innocent folks die at the hands of cops who “made a mistake” or resorted to dangerous, unnecessary force.

Likewise, nobody tells skydivers they shouldn’t be allowed to dive because it’s a completely unnecessary pastime done only for pleasure and thrill, and that the risk is too great. As for surfers – how many people have died while surfing? There’s no reason to surf other than for pleasure. How about driving a car? That’s the most dangerous thing you can possibly do – should we just admit it’s not safe, that air bags aren’t going to save us all, and go back to horse and buggies?

Of course not. We all realize, when it comes to most things, that there are some inherent risks. To live is to risk death. When it comes to most other pastimes and professions, no one ever suggests they should be judged solely in terms of their safety and risk factors. It’s only with sex work that we feel we should put “safety” (disproportionately, if not irrationally) first and foremost. We look for reasons to condemn sex workers and the entire business of adult entertainment, to confirm our puritanical, hysterical inner belief that sex is bad and should be punishable by death. Or at least ugly warts and a burning sensation.

The adult industry is a beautiful place. Adult performers by and large are beautiful, responsible, caring people who would never knowingly put each other at risk. As someone who has lived in both the civilian world and the adult industry world, I don’t hesitate to say that I prefer it just where I am. I’ll take these risks over those assumed in the civilian world any day.

Love to all my Industry brothers and sisters: the most courageous, honest and beautiful people I’ve ever had the great fortune to know.

Recently my close friend, writer, exotic dancer and feminist Alysabeth Clements was profiled along with author Lily Burana for the Colorado Springs Gazette. Burana was in town to promote her new book, “I Love a Man in Uniform,” which detailed her journey from exotic dancer (Burana wrote the critically acclaimed stripper anthem “Strip City”) to her present role as “army wife.” In one of life’s funny coincidences, Clements had also recently married a Special Forces officer and she, too, had to forge a new identity as dutiful wife to a wartime solider.  The article was short but entertaining, and touched upon some of the issues more thoroughly explored in Burana’s book.

The Gazette website allows comments to be posted under each article, and readers responded immediately to this one. Basically, they were outraged. How dare these two floozies marry into the army! They were bound to do nothing but make army wives — all women, really! – look bad. How dare they flaunt their history of moral bankruptcy – of whoredom – in association with the upstanding men and women who serve our Great Nation.  “Real” army wives have enough to deal with, without ex-strippers coming around to distract their men and make a mockery of the sacred institution of marriage.

I know Colorado Springs is a relatively small town and technically part of the “bible belt,” so I wasn’t entirely surprised to see the intensity of outrage (and, as one might expect, the most vocal of the outraged readers were women.) But I was surprised, when Alysabeth and I began posting in response to some of these comments, to find the readers were too angry to even attempt a rational discussion. In fact, the more measured and reasonable our responses, the more vicious and insulting their attacks.

The question became: what to do? Burana never came to the board to comment or defend the attack on herself and Alysabeth – she took, arguably, “the high road.” Alysabeth sent the link to a few of our fellow “adult industry activists” and the response was “I don’t want to look at this because it will just make me mad, but thanks.” Was this the right approach for all of us to take? To simply ignore it?

Do self-proclaimed activists and public figures generally choose to “ignore” discussions about the topics they’ve used to gain fame and notoriety? Is an online discussion in a small town’s local paper simply not important enough to take part in? What if the discussion had been taking place on the New York Times forum? Why did I suspect that our comrades would show up to defend Alysabeth and other sex workers then?

I realize, though, that many people use the adult industry as a fast and easy way to get attention when what they really want is “respectable” success. They dangle their old platform heels in front of the masses to pique public interest for their “mainstream” projects – but really, if given the chance, they’d denounce their sex worker roots in a second to be taken seriously by the “real world.” They certainly don’t want to get down in the muck and take part in any discussions about sex workers, or keep holding the flag for our cause. Not unless it will help bring attention to their new (post sex-work) careers, that is.

Alysabeth and I don’t feel that way. No fist-clenching venom-spewer is too big or small to engage in discussion. We don’t mind getting down and dirty with someone who works at a fast food restaurant in Bumfuck, Nowhere because at the end of the day, that’s what we do.  Any fame, notoriety or public attention gained from that is really beside the point.

But we still had a dilemma. The attacks kept coming, and no one on the Gazette forum seemed interested in debate or discussion. They attacked Alysabeth’s appearance, and said brilliant things like “Go dance around a pole, pole dancer! HA HA HA!!”  Alysabeth continued to ask questions, explain her position, respectfully challenge the narrow viewpoint taken by the readership of her home town, but they could still only respond with insults and hard hits below the belt.

I generally agree with Alysabeth (who has single-handedly informed much of my sex work ideology), that the Gandhi route of passive resistance, of turning the other cheek, is best when dealing with angry ignorance. That is, I agree with it in theory. As with political socialism, while I admire the humanity of the approach I realize it may conflict with human nature a bit too much to be entirely successful all of the time. And I felt like this was one of those times.

So after several attempts to respectfully, logically and rationally discuss the issues at hand, I decided to take a different approach. It wasn’t so much a decision, though, as a deeply felt need: I realized I didn’t want to convince these people of anything. I was filled with anger at myself that I was submitting to the position of the party who had all the explaining to do; that it was somehow silently understood by all that Alysabeth and I should be the ones to remain calm, reasonable and patient, while the “respectable” folks attacked us in every possible way.

Rather than feeling “enlightened” and “evolved” by remaining on the high road, it suddenly felt illogical and masochistic. There was no real reason for Alysabeth and I to assume a passive role in the face of abuse.  Was there?

I came out swinging. I insulted them back. I told the wives to “shut up and go cook someone dinner.” I offered to help give them lessons in the art of fellatio so they’d be better equipped to “nab a husband – your number one goal!” I made fun of them and called them names equal to the names they had called Alysabeth, Burana and me.

They were instantly outraged. “Your trashy roots are showing now! How sad!” one wrote.

“I’m speaking to you in the only language you understand,” I responded.

Meanwhile, Beth’s approach had yielded at least one impressive result. A reader who called herself “armywife” softened her tone and wrote that while she still didn’t view stripping as a legitimate career or (god forbid) art form, that Alysabeth was clearly “above the bar” in terms of her value as a person (that is, in relation to the other scumbags that can be found prancing around a pole.)

To me, that’s a lot like telling someone of a different race that “I don’t like the rest of your kind, but you don’t act like THEY do, so I’ll let you slide.”  For this we should put a “win” on our score card? Why?

Increasingly, I feel like giving such people a big middle finger and telling them, “Go on, continue being my enemy. I don’t WANT morons like you on my side.”  I’ve started to wonder if we aren’t inviting abuse by NOT showing our immediate outrage and willingness to do battle if pushed against the wall. I noticed, in this case, that it wasn’t until I came out swinging that her attackers softened to Alysabeth, and felt a sudden appreciation for her more gentle approach (as contrasted by my aggression.) Good cop/bad cop, indeed. And in this case, the “bad cop” role felt oh SO right.

Alysabeth and I are having a great time discussing this situation, and the many implications of both respective philosophies.  Surprisingly, I’m finding it sometimes feels pretty good to go the “knee-breaker” route.  Maybe our side needs a few more knee-breakers, and a few less apologists.

What do you think?    

It’s been a few days now since I got the news that Sinn had been in a serious accident. At first it sounded terribly grim; almost hopeless. She had suffered “massive head injuries” and was “in a coma.” They “didn’t know” whether she’d wake up, or if she did, whether she’d be the same girl. There might be brain damage, even extensive brain damage.

I called her Dad right away, and he was in tears.

“I just heard about Sinn,” I said to him.

“Well then,” he told me, his voice sounding weak and broken, “you’re the last to know.”

They didn’t know much about her prognosis, he said. She had been snowboarding at Whistler, slipped on the ice and hit her head, and she had been in a coma for several days… He could give me only a few details at a time before he would go silent, overwhelmed with grief, and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

I hated making him talk about it — I felt like the worst person in the world. But I just wanted to hear something, anything, that would give me some hope. Something I could bring back to Sinn’s devoted fans and friends, all of whom were looking to me for information.

But at the same time, I didn’t want to know. The more I was told, the more real the situation became. She really could die, I thought to myself. This is as real as it gets. 

“Do … they expect her to wake up?” I finally asked, and he immediately broke down into terrible sobs. He was silent for quite a while, and I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line, trying to regain his composure, trying to give me the information I had called for and that he dreaded hearing himself say.

“We don’t know,” he said softly.  

He was so gracious and spiritually generous, even in his emotionally fragile state. I could see why Sinn is such a warm and tender-hearted girl. He told me if everyone could pray for Sinn that that would be “perfect.”

Meanwhile, everyone was calling me, texting me, emailing me, asking me if I was “all right,” expressing concern about my emotional well-being. I felt like a complete fraud. Very few people knew that in the weeks leading up to her accident, Sinn and I had hit a small bump in the road of our friendship. It was stupid, really — just work stuff, trying to set boundaries between the personal and professional, trying to be a boss and make certain decisions. She had felt hurt and rejected by me, but at the time, I’d only felt annoyed. 

“Please stop being so emotional about everything,” I had written to her in an email. “I have to make certain decisions, and I can’t be given a guilt trip about every last thing.”  It was the first time in the 3+ years we’d been close friends that there had ever been tension between us. But now, she thought I didn’t love her anymore.

“I don’t know why,” she emailed me, “but for some reason what you think of me is just really important to me.” 

“I’m about to cry,” she posted on Twitter. 

I simply felt irritated. “She’s trying to make me feel guilty, and it’s not going to work!” I told myself.

Deep down, though, I was mostly angry at myself, because I knew she was being sincere. She honestly thought my opinion of her had changed: that I was upset with her, that I no longer wanted her to be my “right hand girl.” It wasn’t true - I had simply told her I needed to structure certain things differently on set, but that I intended to have her play a big role in the studio “for a long time to come.”  But I could tell that, in her heart, she didn’t believe me. 

I noticed that since Sinn’s accident (and I think this is just human nature) many people who barely knew her, or maybe just worked with her once or twice, were coming out in a very public way with their grieving (the term is “grieving for attention”). At first it bothered, me, but upon reflection I realized that really, what was the harm? What’s the harm in anything that might draw attention to Sinn and her plight?  

Yet every time I got an email or text asking me if I was “okay,” I was filled with self-loathing.  Shouldn’t I tell the truth?  Shouldn’t I admit that when Sinn left for her trip to Whistler, she went thinking I didn’t love her anymore? Or at the very least, she was worried that I didn’t. So, I didn’t deserve any fucking “concern” or “compassion” or anything even close. I had made her feel like shit, and now I might never get to see her again.

Luckily, our last few texts, exchanged right before she left for Whistler, were just us being us.

Me: I need your bio for the website, can u send me one pls?

Sinn: Do u want me to write it as me or in 3rd person?

Me: 3rd person like an asshole.

Sinn: LOL! Like the ass hole is the third hole or something? LOL!

Me: No people who refer to thmslves in 3rd person are assholes

Sinn: LMAO! Oh yeah! They are! Well Sinn will write Sinn’s bio right away! LOL!!

Me: ;) 

All I could think of was how it felt like a bad movie: you have a little tiff with someone close to you, and then suddenly that person is gone. And the last thing you ever said to them stands, for all eternity. The final word in the final chapter in the book of your friendship. You never get to have that conversation that would make everything right again. You suddenly understand that you *don’t* have all the time in the world to “work things out.” The person is gone. Forever. 

Except, thankfully, Sinn ISN’T gone. So far, she’s coming back to us. The signs are better every day. She’s opening her eyes, she’s trying to speak, she’s breathing on her own.

I don’t know what I’ll say to Sinn when I see her again, because there’s so much.

“I know what you mean to me now, and business or not, I’ll never make you feel rejected again. No matter how annoyed I am at you about whatever nonsense happens on set, I’ll never let that interfere with our friendship again.”

That’s the first thing I’ll say.

And then I think I’ll just give her whatever her pretty little head and heart desires, because that’s what I always loved to do.  And hopefully (please…) she’ll be the same old Sinn, and act the same way as always in return. She’ll give me a big hug and kiss and say, “See, I knew you loved me, Nica. After all, I AM the shit!”

Thank you to all the beautiful fans and friends who have come to this forum to express your love and concern for our beautiful girl. Let’s keep the prayers and well wishes going strong, and let’s bring her home to us soon.  I know I’m not the only one who feels there’s a lot more Life we need to share with her.

Location plays a big role in how I write my scripts. For one thing, I generally begin a script with a certain location in mind, so I can block the scene out in my mind’s eye before the actual day of the shoot. This small but important part of the process is why it’s often difficult to work with scripts submitted to me; fans and other aspiring writes don’t know the locations I have to work with, and understandably, they create narratives or plot twists that often require locations I don’t have access to.

So it follows that in the absence of plentiful and varied locations, script concepts are going to be somewhat limited.  And lately I’ve been feeling that sense of creative claustrophobia. The walls have been closing in. The same walls I feel closing in every month now - the walls of the same damn locations I’ve already shot the hell out of.

Melissa Monet to the rescue. Melissa and I have become good friends rather quickly, since she’s a fellow New Yorker as well as a no-nonsense, intelligent girl who teaches me something new about the industry every time I see her.  I mentioned to her that I needed new locations badly, and by that night my inbox was filled with links to scouts and agencies and privately owned locations that might be of use to me. There were so many I didn’t know where to start, so I asked Melissa if she’d accompany me on a little tour of some of the best candidates. I told her what I needed, and she quickly put together a list of the most likely possibilities. And then, yesterday, we piled into her SUV and hit the road.

One of my first priorities was finding a hospital set. I’ve been wanting to start a hospital-themed series for Sweet Sinner, as well as some little vignettes for Sweetheart. So we drove to a studio in East LA, a huge industrial building filled with dozens of rooms in various stages of tear-down and build-up, as mainstream movie crews scurried around, creating worlds within worlds (or worlds that existed in a small corner of an otherwise empty, dreary space.) You really get a sense of “movie magic” when you’re in a big studio like that one — how quickly a skilled crew can create, for instance, the lobby of an expensive hotel in a small space that only an hour before was a simple wall covered with posters and bulletin boards.

There were other sets of interest to me, as well. Most notably the jail cells. These cells weren’t campy and fake looking, they looked horrifying real. Two cells, side by side, with crummy little cots. The end of the world. It bothered me a lot to look at that, and to imagine that for so many people, that’s as good as life gets. Not that we should let all the prisoners out of jail or anything, but … well, let’s just say it was authentically depressing, which means it would probably make for a very good set. (”Prisoner Cell Block H 2009,” anyone?)  

There was also a judge’s chambers, a classroom, and a church. Now if that isn’t enough to capture a porn director’s imagination, she should probably switch careers.

The hospital room, which is what I came to look at in the first place, was very well designed, with real hospital equipment and a gurney, overhead exam lights… the whole bit. The only problem was, it was just one room. Meaning, just the hospital room itself, no other “hospital-like” areas, like for instance a reception area. So that was kind of limiting. Could I build the rest of the set? How far do I want to go into the world of set-design? I made a mental note of what would be possible and what wouldn’t, and on we went to the next location.

The next one was a real hospital. The whole building — it’s basically a deserted hospital. A lot of people say it’s haunted. They’ve really let it go. A few of the Freddy Krueger movies have been shot there, particularly in the basement. Melissa showed me the incinerator that Freddy Krueger was pushed into in one of the movies. The boiler room, I guess it is — and it’s creepy as hell.  If I wanted to make a horror movie, I’d be in luck.

But as for making a real hospital movie, I wasn’t so sure. From what I could tell only two rooms in the entire hotel would be of use to me for my movie. The chapel (don’t get me started - I’m a Catholic girl, and we all want to fuck in churches), and the reception/waiting area, which oddly enough looked pretty good and was pretty well “dressed.” (”Dressed,” in movie talk, means that there were enough props and furniture already there, so it’s practically ready to shoot as is.) 

Knowing I have a hospital room, a chapel, and a reception area that I can work with is enough to get my creative wheels turning. And this, my friends, is how I begin to write a script: what location do I have to work with? Where, geographically, can I have the characters begin the scene, where can they have sex, and where can I do the set up for the next scene? Once I know the location I’m dealing with, I’m in a position to write the narrative and the dialogue. And so goes my quirky little process of writing movies.

On we went to a beautiful ranch up in the hills. It was a world away from the dilapidated, miserable looking house of horrors that was the abandoned hospital. This place was idyllic. Running streams and waterfalls, romantic bridges and acres of green grass and wildflowers. Two beautiful cottages, homey and romantic as the most quaint, luxury bed and breakfasts in Santa Barbara. I wanted it on the spot. Movies were already forming in my mind as I walked the grounds. Girl movies, boy/girl movies, every kind of romantic narrative and story I’d ever wanted to bring to life, it could all happen here. There was even a stable with horses. It was, for me, the find of the day.

But the real joy of the day, professional goals aside, was that I got to spend so much time with Melissa. She can tell a story like nobody else, and she has a million of them; she’s led an amazing life. She’s devoted to her dog and to her friends and to leading an honest life; she’s the kind of friend you always wished you could have, except you never really meet people like that. You can talk to her about anything, because she’s seen it all, and whatever you haven’t seen yet she’ll fill you in on.  Or at least the juicy parts.

So it was a very productive day and I’m happy to say that I feel creatively motivated again. In fact, I almost don’t know where to begin. I’m so used to working with so little that now I feel a bit intimidated by this surfeit. A location surfeit! But I think I’ll get used to it.

A fan wrote to me asking me to describe a typical day in my life, and how I manage to get everything done each day (I don’t!), so I thought it would be fun if I described a typical day on set. (Which is not to say that any day on set is ever typical.)

Let’s take yesterday!

I’d rented an old Victorian house, a historical landmark actually, for our new movie, “Lesbian Adventures - Victorian Love Letters.”   I’d never seen the house in person before, but the location agent had emailed me pictures and they were amazing.  Just what I was looking for!  Even though the location was more pricey than usual, we decided to splurge to get the “real Victorian” look we needed. 

So on our way to the set, Indigo and I stopped to pick up Lily, our new model. Lily is quite a find.  She’s 24, and a “real” lesbian, which means she looks more like a pretty boy than a pretty girl. (She’s actually a “Gold Star Lesbian,” i.e., has never been with a man in her life.)  But she’s young, has big natural breasts and beautiful skin and red hair.  Not to mention her perfect bone structure and delicate, feminine features. So she’s quite striking to look at no matter what your proclivities.

After picking up Lily we headed to the location and met up with the rest of our crew.  The owners of the house hadn’t arrived yet and it was pretty cold and drizzly, so we all waited on the porch while I called the agent to ask about the delay.  Within minutes the caretaker arrived, and in we went.

I’d been told the house had four bedrooms, so I was a little freaked out to find that there was only ONE usable bedroom (that is, the other bedrooms were completely empty). And in that one room, the bed was placed directly in front of huge windows (beautiful windows, but nonetheless problematic for shooting. We can’t shoot against the light, and the curtains - also beautiful - didn’t close!)  Also, the house was freezing and had no hot water, and only two of us were dressed for cold temperatures (I wasn’t one of the two!) so that did little to lighten the mood.  Adding more insult to injury, there was only one working bathroom.  

The first level of the house was gorgeous,  though, with authentic Victorian furniture and beautiful mantles and real fireplaces. But what was I going to do about the sex scenes? Was I supposed to shoot everything in one badly lit room? I had three scenes to shoot!  I admit, I was pretty miffed.  And also desperate for a way to solve the problem.

So while everyone got settled in and unpacked their things, I walked around the house looking for ways out of my dilemma. I decided we had to move the bed against another wall, or we had to pack up and leave. It was one or the other.  The owner said we could move it.  Then I found a daybed in a small room in the back, and asked if we could also move that.  He said we could, and that we could also move all the downstairs furniture around to suit our needs.  So I felt a little better once we moved stuff around and I had a few working sets in which to shoot the sex.

The first scene was Elexis and Lily, for Elexis’ new movie.  They had never worked together before (it was Lily’s first scene for us) and Elexis was in full hair, makeup and costume as a privileged Victorian mistress dictating a letter to the “boy” she believes is her secretary.  Elexis and Lily did an amazing job, and it was so sexy to hear Elexis speak in a mannered, British accent!  She was like a completely different girl! Lily was a great performer: extremely passionate, real, and uninhibited.  It was like watching a beautiful teenage boy make out with Elexis (that is, until the clothes came off.)

Next was my scene with Nina Hartley.  We did stills first, which I hate — I hate posing for pictures, so my photographer Kevin always gets it over with as quickly as possible for me.  I just always feel stupid when I have to pose. BO-RING. I want to get to the sex!!

Nina and I played two married Victorian women with a secret desire for each other.  We were supposed to be drinking tea in the parlour, but we had no tea cups (drat! I forgot to bring them!) so we decided to use the brandy belonging to the house. No wonder our Victorian inhibitions fell away!  Nina spanked me really hard (which I LOVE) and fucked me with an antique ivory dildo (of course she WOULD have a proper Victorian sex toy, kept in her dainty little black cinch purse.)  Lately all the legends of porn have been wanting to stick things in my various orifices and I can’t say I mind. It was warmer than the cucumber at least! 

Next was a scene with Magdalene and the absurdly hot Nicole Ray.  Magdalene we all know and love as the beautiful and popular mature model who loves to ravage young girls.  But Nicole is new to the scene, and I have to say, she’s probably my favorite little blonde of all time.  Nicole is walking sex. I could try to describe how sexy she is but I’d sound like a pervert. Oh well, here goes: She’s 19, has high cheekbones, big blue eyes, and full, extremely pouty lips.  She has a little turned up nose and rosy cheeks, and a beautiful jawline.  Her hair is naturally blonde and falls to her shoulders in perfect little loose curls.  She’s about five foot one, and she has the most tiny, perfect body I’ve ever seen. Her breasts are unreal — causing Nina to ask her “are those new?” and she replied “No, they’re mine.”  And they are. They’re so gorgeous though, that they DO look fake, until you watch them move.

Did I mention she’s 19? She’s got the exuberance and Lolita-quality that is so intoxicating and contagious, and makes everyone putty in her hands. The girls as well as the boys were in love with her on set. She’s funny and self-deprecating and just a blast to have around.  And she does an amazing sex scene.  Her scene with Magdalene had me so mesmerized that Sinn had to take over the camera so I could just sit there and watch.   I’d only used her for boy/girl scenes until yesterday, and now you can expect to see her in as many girl/girl scenes as she’ll be willing to do.  I also plan to use Nicole as the new Lolita in my continuing series of that name, so expect to see A LOT of this amazing girl.  Talk about born for porn!  Painfully hot girl. PAINFULLY.   

Once the scene was over we had to pack up, of course. As I walked down the stairs I realized I didn’t want to leave.  I had fallen in love with the Victorian house, despite our rocky start.  ”I feel like moving in here,” I said to no one in particular, because it was how I felt.  Maybe I really did belong in the Victorian era. I felt so at home and I really was in no rush to take off the costumes and return to the “present day.”  I do wish I could time travel just for a day or two, and see what people were like back then.  But it was fun to try to create it based on my own fantasies, as fueled by all the Victorian erotica I read growing up.  

I came home, checked the SV website for forum posts from my friends, but was too tired to really post anything myself. I fell asleep and dreamed I was renting a Victorian house up in northern California and was trying to convince my friends to come with me.  But today, it’s back to 2009. Not for long though — we’re back at the Victorian house next week to shoot a boy/girl movie — finally my adaption of A Man With a Maid. It stars Ben English, Nicole Ray, James Deen, Magdalene St. Michaels, Elexis Monroe, Stephanie Swift, and a surprise cameo by a certain Vivid Contract Girl who asked to be loaned out specifically to play this role.  

Wish me luck!

This is a very exciting month for us.  Not only is our new website finally up and running, but we’ve just signed our first contract girl, Elexis Monroe, as the face of Sweetheart Video for 2009.  I’d like to take a few moments to talk about Elexis and to tell you why I think she’s so special - and so right for us.

I’ve worked with Elexis for several years now, and she has one quality in particular that sets her apart from almost everyone else in the adult industry; that is, she is constitutionally incapable of faking sex.  Not because she’s always having a fantastic time (every performer has done scenes that were less enjoyable than they’d like) but because Elexis, no matter what, finds a way to get herself to a “real” place with her partner and make love to that person.  And once she focusses on her costar and finds that zone, everything else falls away. 

But Elexis is more than just one of the greatest girl/girl performers I’ve ever seen.  She’s also completely natural in ways that are all too rare.  For one thing, she doesn’t glam it up — no hair extensions and false eyelashes, no trendy tattoos or porn star trappings.  She’s the girl next door of your dreams; that down to earth beauty you imagine as suddenly wild and passionate when you get her in bed.  

It was important to us to choose the right girl to represent our studio, because we realized what a statement it would be to our fans - and to the industry as a whole.  What did we want to say about Sweetheart Video, and who would be the right contract girl to say it?

We realized that Elexis, in her unaffected, effortless way, embodies everything we want to stand for. A natural, beautiful girl who knows exactly why she loves her art, and who is completely unwilling and unable to compromise, to deliver anything less than a top notch performance.  A girl with so much integrity and quiet intensity that a fan good naturedly dubbed her, “The Jimmy Stewart of Porn.” A girl that has caused so many starlets (and even a few legends) to comment “I didn’t truly understand how to make love to a woman until I did a scene with her.”

We’re honored and happy that Elexis has decided to call Sweetheart Video home.  We have so many projects planned for her, and we’re so excited to introduce her to the world as Our Girl.  She’s more than earned the spotlight and her place in history as one of the most important and greatest performers our genre has ever seen. So I hope you’ll come along with us on this new adventure, and take pleasure in watching Elexis shine as only a true star can.

The only reason I haven’t been writing on this blog lately is because we’re about to put up our brand spankin’ new website and I figured I’d just wait for the transition before posting again.  But I can see from the amount of mail I’ve received asking if “something is wrong” or if we’re “closing shop” that my lack of blog updates has not gone unnoticed. So I’m going to try to summarize what’s been happening lately both personally and professionally (with me and with Sweetheart), and what to look forward to in the months ahead.

First of all, two of my most “artistic” movies are about to be released in October – “Angel” starring real life lesbian couple Zoey Stone and Alex Mackay, and “Lesbian Noir – The Pool Girl,” which was written by the terrific Ray McLean and directed by yours truly.  My only regret about their respective October release dates is that both miss the deadline for AVN nominations (September 30).  

Everyone who has seen previews of Lesbian Noir agree that it’s easily the best all girl release of the year, so I guess we’ll just have to wait for AVN 2010 to see if it earns some nominations along those lines.  But I’m certainly optimistic that we’ll get a positive fan response for this innovative, black and white film.  In previous blog entries I’ve gushed about the great performances by Samantha Ryan, Satine Phoenix and Berlin, and if anything I have underplayed how incredible they really are.  If there is only one lesbian film you buy all year, please, PLEASE let it be this movie – you won’t be disappointed.

The porn industry is changing, and I’m happy to say that so far we’re making it through the bottleneck. At a time when many companies are closing down production or decreasing DVD shoots, Sweetheart is increasing production and expanding in new and exciting ways.  (I think this time in porn is a bit like the dawn of the personal computer era when suddenly everyone with a computer became a “desktop publisher.”  Much the same thing happened in adult films, where suddenly everyone who could get hold of a camera became a “porn producer.”  What eventually happens is the market gets oversaturated with, well, garbage, and only the quality survives and sets a new paradigm for the new age.)

The adult industry is certainly becoming more accepted than ever before. I was at dinner with a beautiful lesbian last night, someone I almost dated (before the timing got screwed up), and we spent a great deal of the evening talking about porn, my  beloved BDSM master and the joys of anal sex, as she documents in her blog (www.cardcarryinglesbian.com).  We made no effort to keep our voices low, and it soon became obvious that our conversation was being overheard by more than one fellow diner.  But rather than treat us as outcasts or undesirables, the servers looked for any reason to come to our table, and one eventually informed me that I looked “just like the little girl in ‘Little Miss Sunshine’.” (WHAT? lol) 

I realized, and not for the first time, that people are truly interested in sex and porn and all things related. They don’t recoil at the mention of these things; rather, they are drawn in.  Like the wardrobe in Narnia, what we in the sex business do represents a secret, magical world where forbidden things are allowed and even encouraged.  My life’s work is to prove that it’s not just a mirage that disintegrates when you reach out to touch it. It not only looks like water; it tastes like it, too.  It’s not a horror film where you pay a terrible price for being naughty, where you eventually spiral into a free fall or cycle of self destructive behavior. You can be happy, beautiful, alive and free and there is no exorbitant tab, no unforeseen charges. What was once considered evil and immoral is now the Promised Land, where one can find a higher truth.

When I was a teenager I was obsessed with old movies.  It might even be argued that they were my undoing (to the extent that a 13 year old life can be undone.)  I was an avid reader of TV Guide back then, and I would scan its pages for the classic movies due to broadcast each day and circle whichever piqued my interest.  James Cagney was my number one crush, but say the words “Gary Cooper” and you’d have my full attention within seconds. (By “full attention” I mean I’d turn my body slightly toward you as you spoke, never making eye contact, and start biting my nails.)    As for female movie stars, like everyone else I obsessed on Marilyn Monroe (though I preferred her in the “Norma Jean” years, with her frizzed-out brown hair and accidentally sexy overbite.)  Marilyn was the girl everyone wanted to love, but the “sirens” were the type I aspired to BE.  Rita Hayworth, Ava Gardner, Jennifer Jones, Dorothy Dandridge – they really knew how to be women, and I studied their films with the intensity of a crazed mathematician in search of the largest prime number.  In fact, after watching “Gilda” for the first time I took my father’s pack of Pall Mall cigarettes into the bathroom, lit up, and watched myself exhale into my own reflection in the toothpaste-smeared mirror.   

“I hate you Johnny,” I confessed, looking angrily into my own eyes.  “I hate you so much I’d destroy myself to take you down with me.”   

I had barely gotten the words out when I felt the overwhelming urge to puke, which I did, right into the toilet below me.  I had never tried a cigarette before and my father smoked the unfiltered variety — my thirteen-year-old lungs simply couldn’t cope.  Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to take Johnny down with me –but there would be other attempts.  It would be years before I stopped skipping school to stay home and watch my favorite stars tap dance in Technicolor or squash a grapefruit into the face of a perfectly-coiffed co-star.  I would be suspended from school and finally expelled before my obsession was satiated. 

But as I got older my fascination with classic movie stars faded somewhat, replaced by a vigorous obsession with strippers and porn stars.  Seka, Sharon Mitchell, Nina Hartley – theirs were the faces I saw staring down at me from billboards in Times Square, and they captured my imagination and commanded my attention just as Rita and Jimmy and Marilyn had.  I, too, dreamed of being sexy and sparkly and adventurous.  I fantasized about one day having these women as my friends and lovers — and of being counted among their ilk. 

It’s funny how we always seem to come back to that which we fundamentally are.  Through a series of strange events, choices, acts of fate, and sudden diversions, I am now a porn director and writer with the creative freedom to film almost anything I choose.  So this month I chose to pay homage to one of my earliest obsessions – classic noir films.  With a spectacular, inspired script by my friend Ray McLean (known on this and the lezlove forum as “Birdwatcher”), a reclusive genius-type who lives an ocean away, I was able to bring this fantasy to life. 

I cast Samantha Ryan in the role of femme fatale, Satine Phoenix as the woman from the wrong side of the tracks who sees through Samantha’s manipulations yet is too weak to resist them, Annabelle Lee as the “voice of reason” and Samantha’s loyal maid, and the incomparable Mz. Berlin as the classic Golden Age of Hollywood contract star.   The script was large and wordsy, so I cast girls who I knew would not only play the roles well but would be willing to go the extra mile to learn dialogue word for word (noir must be played with adherence to a certain vernacular and cadence) and do the extra “set ups” required to bring the sex scenes to life.   

Samantha Ryan far exceeded my expectations.  Recalling even when a vase had been placed slightly more to the left in a previous take, she worked hard to preserve the artistic integrity of the shoot.  She looked stunningly beautiful and I’m convinced that not even the crème de la crème of mainstream Hollywood could have done a better job with the role. She is truly incandescent.  

Satine Phoenix, I dare say one of the truly sexiest women I’ve ever known, put aside her ego (and her usual pretty girl accoutrements), and dressed it down for her role as the pool girl who falls for the dangerous blonde Samantha.  Satine knew every line by heart, and stayed in character the entire shoot – even when the cameras weren’t rolling.  It was a side of her I’d never seen, and it reminded me what a consummate artist she truly is.  I’m convinced that there’s almost nothing Satine can’t do. 

In a small but pivotal role, Annabelle Lee brought just the right mixture of subservience and sarcasm as Samantha’s maid and sometime lover.  Although she told me she was nervous about doing a scene with the preternaturally beautiful Samantha, I certainly saw no trace of it.  She was a complete pro, even offering to come back the next day, unpaid, to contribute more dialogue. (Unheard of.  Did you hear me? UNHEARD OF! This is Los Angeles!)    

But the real revelation of this film was the astounding Mz. Berlin.  From her vintage champagne colored dressing gowns to her blood red lipstick, crimson hair and long black eyelashes, Berlin truly looked as if she’d stepped out of a 1940s film – or a time machine.  As the psychotic, controlling dominatrix movie star, she commanded every scene she was in.  I was mesmerized, and unspeakably grateful, for her immeasurable contribution to this film.  Expect to see a lot more from Berlin in future Sweetheart productions. 

This blog would not be complete without a thank you to my amazing crew: Reno Ash who works second camera like a freak while keeping me laughing so hard my head starts to hurt, Kevin Moore, who takes some of the most beautiful stills mine eyes have ever seen, “Dick Skanky” a.k.a. my Johnny on the Spot production assistant, Doug Feral, who graciously loaned us his Webley revolver for the final scene, and of course the amazing Ray McLean, who wrote the script that inspired us all to reach for such dizzying heights.            

So we had our impromptu “release party” (which doubled as a comeback party for Stephanie Swift), at Sardo’s on Tuesday night and it was a big success.  Standing room only.  There was a huge line of fans outside the door and unfortunately some people couldn’t get in at all.  (And some of those people included friends of mine!  But it was so chaotic that nobody was able to get a message to me that they were stuck outside, and I was oblivious to the whole thing.  I’ll try not to let that sort of thing happen again.)

We had a VIP section of several tables perched above the main floor, and the club very quickly filled up with a Who’s Who of the adult industry.  Michelle Lay, Reno Ash, Stephanie Swift, Brianna Love, Sinn Sage, Annabelle Lee, Trinity Post, Tee Reel, Nick Manning and his gorgeous date, Rick Solomon (the latest Pamela Anderson ex-husband) and various fetish models milled around, dancing, drinking, sitting on each other’s laps.  The flashbulbs never stopped, so there are many pictures of me holding my hand up in front of my face like an obnoxious celebrity fending off paparazzi.  But really I was just getting dizzy from the lights.  After a solid minute of flashbulbs going off right in your face, believe me — you start to feel a little freaked out. 

Sinn Sage, as usual, was the belle of the ball.  The more time I spend with her, the more I love her.  Not least of all because she really knows how to sling that awesome sex appeal!  When I first met Sinn she was just starting to do video work, and she was just a thoughtful, hippie-chick tomboy trying her sexuality on in public for the first time.  Now she’s come into full bloom, and then some!  It’s so beautiful to see a young, hot girl truly enjoying her sex appeal and letting others enjoy it, too.  Sinn has a very sex-positive vibe — she isn’t in the industry by accident, she’s not on drugs, she’s not desperate for money or attention.  She’s just being Sinn, and it’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

So she sat on my lap and made out with me for a while (she’s a really good kisser — and she’s a great lover, too; I did a scene with her a few months ago), and then she went up to sing karaoke.  Sinn has a very powerful voice and really belts it out — on key!  (Almost impossible to do with karaoke, I find.) First she sang “Criminal” by Fiona Apple, and she sounds a lot like Fiona, actually.  She also sang “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix Alott (how appropriate.) Then she and I sang “Summer Lovin’” from Grease (she was John Travolta, I was Olivia Newton John.)

 Stephanie, who loves karaoke more than anyone I’ve ever met, sang “Come Together” by the Beatles, and she was her usual adorable and sexy self.  It was so cute to see her rocking out.  Then Jon Blitt, my boss, the big guy, showed up and it was so great to see him.  He lives in Canada, of course, so even though I talk to him almost every day I’ve only hung out with him a handful of times — mostly at AVN.  I had been drinking an Irish Coffee, so he teased me about being drunk.  “I can tell you’re drunk because you have that happy smile, the happy drunk smile” he said, and I told him to just be quiet.

We were in a great mood though, because so many wonderful things are happening for Sweetheart Video.  We’re getting opportunities to expand and grow already, and the buzz about our first releases is outstanding.  People really are ready for us and our philosophies about sex, women, and erotic film, and it’s a very magical time.   Everyone wishes for the opportunity to decorate their time in history in some way, and I feel so good about the way we’re doing that in our little corner of the entertainment world.

We took hundreds of photos at the Sardo’s party, so I will most definitely find a way to get them posted for you soon.  I’m sorry about the wait for the forum, and thank you so much for your continued patience, everyone.

Love,
Nica    

Recently I asked fans to send me ideas on what they’d like me to blog about, and I got some very good suggestions.  So I’ve decided to do this as a little Q&A.  Feel free to send more questions if you have them, and I’ll do this for you every now and then.

Q: Who develops your story ideas and how?

A: I develop most of the story ideas myself.  I take them from my own life experiences, relationships I’ve had, or books I’ve read that have made an impression on me.  There’s really no end to the amount of material inside my head, as I have been having lesbian encounters since I was a teenager and I continue to have interesting interactions and encounters that I draw from artistically. 

Sometimes, too, I use bad memories or negative experiences from my past.  For example, in an upcoming scene with Sinn Sage in Lesbian Daydreams, I play a perverted artist who starts coming on to my lovely naked model (Sinn) while drawing her portrait.  I took this idea from a real life experience – it happened to me when I was 20 years old in New York City.  I was modeling for an “artist” who told me to pose as if I were masturbating, and to make “sexy faces, as if you’re having an orgasm.”  He was a pervert, obviously, but I was alone with him in his apartment and nobody knew I was there, so I didn’t know what to do.  I remember that feeling very well – the fear, the shame, and the sense of danger and excitement that comes from being in a situation that violates what you expect.  I wasn’t aroused by the experience, but now I can turn it into something more erotic for purposes of the film.  It’s therapeutic, in a way!

Other times I take story ideas from fans, or sometimes Jon (Blitt) has an idea that we develop together.  There is one caveat to anything I shoot, though – it has to turn me on.  One fan recently contributed a script that I loved and have decided to use, while another script he submitted, one that depicts a lesbian sports team, I passed on.  The script was great, but I just don’t find sports erotic.  So I don’t think I’m the right person to shoot that film, even if many fans would find it perfectly hot.

 Q:  I know the scenes are not scripted, but how much detail is discussed before shooting? 

A:  Quite the contrary — every scene I shoot is scripted, and the roles are almost always written with a particular model in mind.  This is why I get such good results from the models – most of the time the model’s character is written in accordance with her specific speech patterns, syntax, temperament and emotional range.  I put a great deal of thought into writing the scripts and casting the films, and I consider the story as important as the sex scene (which is not scripted.)

The models are not expected to memorize the script, but to be familiar enough with the story and the dialogue to effectively play the role and communicate the narrative to the audience.  Again, because the roles are written with certain girls in mind, they generally find it quite easy to learn the lines and to improvise the parts they’ve forgotten.

 Q:  What do you know about your core audience? 

A:  I know as much as it is possible to know, as there is (shockingly) no real market research data for the adult industry.  But I read and participate in fan forums, communicate with fans via email and message boards, and read the reviews.  Communication with the fans is very important to me, as I am obviously not in this field purely as a self-indulgent, personal hobby.  I wouldn’t be here without the fans, and pleasing them and letting them feel a part of the process is paramount.

That said, from what I can discern the fans of this genre seem in general to be well educated, articulate, even perhaps a bit “geeky” (in the good, smart way!) and pay a lot of attention to detail.  They are nobody’s fools, and they appreciate genuine effort.  They tend to have positive feelings toward women, and they are aroused by intimacy and realism rather than artifice and meaningless sex.  In short, they’re my kind of people. 

 Q: Would you ever go into “fetish” acts like golden showers, for instance? 

A:  Never say never, but at the moment it’s not on the agenda.  I may do a bondage/fetish line, or a toy line, but it will be advertised as such so that fans who don’t wish to see such things will steer clear.  (The exception to this rule is strap-ons, which I occasionally use in my films, but I would prefer to show them within a “strap on series.” One such film is in the works.) 

I have nothing against golden showers or similar types of fetish play, but I just don’t hear my fans asking for that right now.  Also, I don’t have any lesbian golden shower fantasies so I wouldn’t feel personally inspired to shoot such a scene.  But the mind is a funny thing, and sometimes fantasies evolve over time, so again… never say never!

 Q:  Why do women perform sex acts in front of the camera?  You can’t get rich doing it, so it can’t just be for the money. Are they all exhibitionists? 

A:  I think the answers are complex and probably a bit different for everyone.  For me, I consider sex to be high art; something integral and beautiful and worth documenting as any other form of beauty is worth apprehending and documenting.  There are true artists and geniuses of sex, just as there are geniuses in other areas of life.  I know people scoff at that notion, but they shouldn’t.  The sad truth is, most people don’t know their own sexuality and bodies very well, nor do they know much about how to please others in that regard.  Yet almost everyone wants to be thought of as “good in bed” and we consider such a distinction to be among the biggest of compliments.  We can assume, then, that everyone recognizes the value of an excellent sexual performance — whether a camera is present or not.

In my observation, I find many women (and men) are predisposed to enjoy sex in a more open way than others, and many of these people are drawn to the sex industry.  We find our work gratifying and expansive.  We don’t understand why the rest of the world is so hypocritical – buying toys and videos and then making fun of us for providing them with the tools they need to enjoy sex the way they want to. 

To us, performing a sex act in front of the camera is no stranger than it is for a mainstream actress to cry on camera or otherwise “bare her soul.”  The idea that sex is dirty, and that performing in the sex industry is a symptom of mental illness or some other psychological malady is unfortunate – and also remarkable.  The sex drive is second only to the survival instinct, and it’s amazing how much trouble we have accepting this wholly natural and beautiful part of life.

Some of us are born to be scientists, others painters, others sex performers.  (And some all three!)  Hopefully one day this truth will be accepted and not held suspect.  Sex performers bring a lot of joy to a lot of people, and it would be nice if the world could acknowledge that and stop wondering what’s wrong with us.

Well I have to get ready for the big party at Sardos on Tuesday night, and I hope I’ll see many of you there!  The forum will be up again soon, we’re so sorry for the delay… Just hang in there… good things are coming this month.  Including our first releases, LESBIAN CHRONICLES – WASTED YEARS, and LESBIAN CONFESSIONS!

See you soon!

Love, Nica