Hollywood means sex. Like an eager-to-please budding porn star I was titillated and excited my first years in Hollywood, from the cheap knock-off films made at some warehouse to the slick professional productions in the Valley. I was as hooked as anyone could be on the workings and inside peeks at a hidden world. Alas, like the stars of the aforementioned movies, I too became jaded then bored with the entire business. I’ve partied with many a porn person, from the male and female stars to camera men and distributors.
Camera men are the sickest and most twisted of all the people dealing in porno. I love doing shots of Cuervo with them and listening to their stories. Wow! Are these guys perverted bastards or what? I once viewed a self cut porno movie that had also been given sound effects and screwing noises from various animals inserted into the dub over. Guys and gals were blowing beer out of their noses every few seconds it was so damn funny. Thinking it could never be topped, a trailer after it ran for about five minutes of just pussy farts, blasters from men and women along with the unedited responses of the other cast and crew members.
One really hung guy let a big fart go with every thrust. As he pulled his dick out to thrust again he would say a low, “Ugh, excuse me.” One clip at the very end was the finisher. As a camera moved in close on a gal getting eaten while laying on a mattress on a garage floor, a mouse ran across her stomach. She was so frightened she let go a stream of piss into the guy’s eyes eating her, blinding him. As he pulled away to stand up he bumped the back of his head into the camera really hard. This made the film go sideways and shoot some of the floor and ceiling before getting focused again.
The neat thing about that unplanned shot was how it captured in a nutshell how most porno shoots are handled. In the brief scan of the room you could see glimpses of all the people standing around while the two on the bed are pounding away nude. In this shoot there was a reflective shot off some mirrors leaning against a wall in the large three-car garage. You could see the camera man, a lighting man moving around behind him, a guy moving a boom-type mike, and a guy leaning against a doorway that led to the inside of the house not even watching the action. He had a folded magazine and a cup of coffee taking up his break time. It also let you in on how the director will be talking all through the humping. It’s edited out so they say whatever they want. Some say really funny things. It helps carry a scene a little farther one cameraman told me.
They’re not the only nutcases in the business though. Production managers can be real lou-lous in entirely different ways. These are the guys you deal with on the moving and setting up of computer systems if they happen to move a lot. When you’re given a call and asked to move a big phone system and the rest of the works after midnight on a Sunday well, you get the picture. I’ve asked for outrageous amounts of money to put a move off until a day or so later or to get them to call someone else. Not all hang up. Not only do you get the amount you request in cash, you get an affirmative on some relaxation with some of the up coming starlets when the job is completed. Even if its 3:00 a.m. Some of the people in this industry keep very odd hours in the best of circumstances.
Why would I be on call you ask? PUSSY, that’s why! Porn places deal in it just like money. No receipts, no taxes. If the chick is hot, no complaints. Since I still work on many of their phone systems I won’t mention any names. Maybe Vivid Video. A great bunch of folks work at Vivid. I always liked working there. Their parking sucks though. Never park in the angled side spots on the property. You’ll get boxed in every time.
The first time I watched a live filming was at a fairly modest house in Toluca Lake. Believe it or not, it was only a few blocks from a Bob’s Big Boy where I ate lunch a million times. I never would have known about the place at all if their set man hadn’t accidently cut a cable that fed an apartment building next door. While putting up an extender lift for some height shots of the backyard the driver clipped the phone feeder cable coming off the rear yard pole.
The private home’s backyard was totally enclosed with eighteen foot high bushes that had grown over and around a ten foot tall chainlink fence. The bushes were so dense you couldn’t even see the fence unless you shoved some thick branches aside.
I had the impression that the backyard had been a tennis court for some reason, the way the shrubbery was so square. It was so dense and tall even the people living on the second floor apartments next door couldn’t see the secluded backyard from the second floor covered walkway. When I show up on the street it’s for cable work at the apartments next door to this home. I had a pretty good idea it was cable trouble from the five different trouble tickets at the one address. A bunch of apartments meant a cut cable ninety-nine times out of a hundred.
After I parked in front of the apartment and set my cones around my truck I look for the manager’s apartment. His phone is dead also. I promise to fix his phone number first then follow him to the rear of the building. After he unlocks the terminal door I check out the house cables. Nada for dial tone. I give the building a cursory glance all the way to the roof where the cable hits from the pole. Everything looks fine. I then follow the cable back to the pole from where it hits the corner of the apartment’s roof. It goes into some bushes. Some really tall dense bushes. I can’t even see the telephone pole the cable runs too. I have to climb the pole. Before leaving I put a tone on the cable’s first pair. Ride with me some day and you’ll see why.
As I come out onto the sidewalk from the apartment walkway I’m met by the guy who had caused the cable to be cut. He tells me he figured I wouldn’t get as bent if he fessed up and showed me where the cut was to save me extra work. I told him he was absolutely correct. He offers to give me a hand to repair the cable. I tell him, “That’s okay, I can handle it. Just put any dogs in the house!” I grab my climbing belt and head for the side gate of the house. It was locked. I go to the front door. After a long wait I give up and hit the pole from the long way around off the next block over. It was a real hassle. Even with a short cable run it’s policy to replace the entire drop to the building from the pole.
Repairing a hanging cable means repeat visits every time it rains or the wind blows, even if it’s been done correctly. From the other side of the pole I borrow an A-type ladder laying next to a garage walkway leading to the rear alley. Climbing it I cut down the bad cable, first tying off the drop with a rope making sure the cable stays out of the new-looking swimming pool in the backyard. I figured it was new since the landscaping was barely covering the ground and some of the branches of the almost perfect bushes had some dead branches here and there; a sure sign of someone cutting some of the plants roots while putting in the pool.
After cutting the line in mid-span I hit the stick. To save multiple trips up and down I use the old cable to pull up the new one. I then belt in and start terminating the drop onto the binding posts at the telephone terminal. While working away I notice some really pretty girls watching me from behind some sliding glass doors that led from the dining room of the home with the pool. One waves at me and then another one pulls up her tank top flashing some huge tits at me.
Wow, this is great! I finish the pole work then feed the cable around the pool using chairs and pool furniture to keep it away from any water. I then called out a verbal warning to a woman smoking a cigarette on the side of the pool by a rear garage. All goes well. I’m able to lift it up and off then park it so I can then feed it over to the apartment. A piece of cake. I end up back at my truck thinking about walking over to Bob’s Big Boy through the rear parking lot.
The grip who caused the whole mess comes out. He asks me to take a break. He suggests I have lunch with him and his crew. They just ordered some pizzas and can he get me a cold drink? Gee, I don’t know. Stop working in the hot sun and come inside where large busted girls are hanging out? Well, if you insist.
I drop my tools on a lounge chair and go inside to meet the gang. A tiny gal with huge breasts heads for the fridge to get me a beer. I let her know I would prefer a Coke then watch her walk the rest of the way in amazement. Her tiny G string bottom is held up at a perky angle by the six inch stiletto heels on her feet. My eyes were so glued to her ass you could have banked wood around my feet and started a bonfire and I wouldn’t have noticed. As Tiny bends down to get my Coke from the fridge it was quite a sight.
From another room comes the busty gal who had flashed me. This one comes right over to me and presses some expensive silicon into my chest while she gives me a kiss. It was quick but nice. She then giggles and grabs a purse off the table while telling everyone in the room, “See ya’ all over at Randy’s!” Out she goes to her car. For the first time I notice there’s a bunch of people in the room. Three guys and a couple more girls. One guy is reading a magazine. The other two are talking motorcycles. One of the guys spots my Harley T-shirt and gets me in their debate. Tiny hands me my Coke while telling the guy reading the magazine, “Time to go to work!” They head off to another room. The pizzas show along with some more people. I eat some pizza, shoot the shit with the cycle lovers, then go back to work. Lunch time is over.
I finish testing all the lines to the apartments. After figuring out the charges I go back to the house and ring the doorbell. They caused the problems, they had to pay. A different hot chick answers the door after many knocks and rings of the doorbell. As she eyes my tool belt slung over my shoulder she says a pleasant, “Come on in. I’ll go get Randy.” Fine. I wait in the hallway. I wait and I wait. I start to get steamed waiting for her to return. Young and good looking swinger-type people pass me coming and going. I keep stepping out of their way. Now I’m starting to think of a way to charge them even more.
After what seemed like twenty minutes I finally meet Randy. He’s a tall, good looking guy in his late thirties with gold everything – watch, necklace, rings, cuff links, pen in his pocket, probably monogrammed. He wore sunglasses at all times. Even inside a dark house or bar I was to find out. I shake his hand while he remarks, “I hope the people next door are not too pissed off.” I replied, “Not really. Out of the eight apartments only two apartments had folks home!”
Randy asks me to come into his office out back and we’ll square up on the bill. We head for the garage. I can easily see on entering he’s put a lot of money into the garage to make it a first class office. I also notice stacks of porno movies piled all over. A lot of them looked to be hardcore gay. Both sexes. All over the place. In and out of shipping boxes. Stacked twenty high in stacks of ten rows and ready to fall over. Randy asks me to have a seat in this new chair he just spent three grand on. He says it’s electric and gives massages. I plop into it to humor him and start goofing with all the controls in the arm rest. After a short phone call he finally looks like he’s going to pay the bill. Nope. After he gets up from his large desk he tells me to hang on one second, he’ll be right back. At the door he tells me to help myself to a beer from a small fridge and enjoy the chair’s massage capabilities. I watch him shut the door then put the chair through its paces. It was a really cool chair. It had rollers that went up and down the sides of your spine, it would vibrate and it would even heat up while massaging your entire back.
While I’m busy goofing with the chair controls the sound of the door opening makes me look. It was some sight. Tiny was entering the office. All she has on is a too-large white T-shirt and a smile. Halfway to me she starts pulling her shirt off.
As soon as she reaches the chair she swings a perfect little leg over me to straddle me face first. After a kiss and free hands city on her breasts she says, “Randy said you might need some help with his new toy!” That chair couldn’t take it. It was sort of a blessing though. It kept distracting me at the best times making me seem a real love god. It ends up we broke his new chair. She was really something. I think it was because she actually liked me for some reason beyond just money or orders.
Randy knocks on the door about a half hour later then just walks in. The chair isn’t the only thing ruined. I’m shot too. Tiny slips on her shirt, gives me a little wave then at the door tells Randy she’ll see him later at the party. Out the door she goes. I tell Randy the bad news. I think we broke his new chair. It won’t vibrate anymore. He just blows it off. He tells me he just got it from a buddy’s appliance store on Highland. He’ll just get another one since its still on warranty. When he said the name of the store (now burnt down for the last time, I think. It’s been rebuilt twice since I’ve been a phoneman. It’s had the misfortune of getting struck by Jewish lightning a bunch of times). I tell him, “Hey, I do work for those guys on the side all the time, installing smoke alarms!” We both remark on what a small world it is. I then hand Randy the service work order while telling him I still have a couple more jobs. Randy looks hurt! He says, “I thought Karen took care of that already?”
The light bulb finally starts to flicker over my head, “Oh, my mistake, was I charging you for that old cable the squirrels chewed?” Randy hands me a business card, walks me to my phone truck yakking about a big party he’s throwing, wants me to come by. He gets my phone number, we shake hands.
I’m off to my next job. (…to be continued…)