Too Much Tequila, Too Little Sunscreen

I listen in while Jose explains his plan to his director, Mario “I don’t want to shoot our usual film sequence. Forget the cutesy opening and the female focused foreplay. Jump right into male recipient oral and follow that with lots of different positions, especially those that show Boner’s boner in the best possible light. Don’t even think about a big climax scene, that’s not Boner’s thing. Instead of following some dumb story line I want to maximize the amount of time Boner’s boner will be on the screen. I’ve got eight of my best stars lined up for an hour each. I don’t want to overdo it, look what happened to Trixie. We’ll give Boner a break between performances while we set up our various sets. If we get hot we can wrap up around midnight.”

Jose and Mario wander off to start work while I try to figure out how I’m going to spend the day. I can’t take more that a few minutes of so-called adult entertainment. I learned a long time ago that sex is not really a spectator sport, not for me anyway. Watching others have sex is like watching others play golf. At first you’re jealous that they get to play such a lovely course, then you want to get out there and play yourself and soon you’re bored with the whole damn thing. And if my memory is correct you go straight from interested to envy to horny to yawning in about fifteen minutes. And I’ve got eight to ten hours of watching Boner perform. Mi Dios!

I want to peek in on Boner from time to time just to make sure he’s okay and to make sure he hasn’t humped someone else into the hospital. I can still see the thousand-yard-stares and shit-eating grins of Trixie and Deputy Shut-the …

“Why don’t you come join me over here on the couch?” I turn to see Sindy beckoning to me with her huge pom-poms. “Joe left us a couple of lines of some of his good shit and I’ll share it with you.”

Sindy looks ten years younger in her pony tail and cheerleader get-up, bobby sox, saddle shoes and all.

“I’ll get a beer from the fridge and be right over, want one?”

“Nah, I’ve got to perform later and beer makes me pee.”

The French fags are having a glass of wine at the kitchen table while Shakeina is heating something in the microwave. Lynda and Annie are just standing there staring at the far wall. Both have that blank, drugged-out look of stoners. Maybe you have to be drugged out to do what these two do for a living especially with someone the size of Boner. They could probably do me cold sober. Now I get it; this is where Jose’s two businesses come together. That coke that has Annie and Lynda in lala land might be the coke that Chui was carrying just a few days ago. Where in the hell is Chui, anyway? Amazonia and Brenda aren’t around and neither are the two little Lotus Blossoms. They’re probably getting prepped for their big show with Boner.

I’d better check in with Boner before I cuddle on the couch with Sindy.

Jose has a bedroom done up to look like the sitting room in a Japanese home. The sliding wooden door and the paper-covered walls are a nice touch. Mario, the camera operator and what must be a makeup girl are all wearing sunglasses in this overly lit room. The makeup girl’s only prop seems to be this spray bottle full of what must be a lubricant. Maybe “makeup girl” is the wrong name for the person that performs this function, perhaps she might better be called the lubricator or the greaser, or a … I’ll have to ask Jose.

Boner is sprawled on a couch-like thing with his eyes tightly shut while the two Japanese cuties crawl all over him. Kumi or is it Yuki, I can’t tell them apart, is moaning Boner-san, Boner-san in sync with Boner’s Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja. If the other girl didn’t have her mouth full she’d probably join in, in this curious chorus. I wonder if I should volunteer to help Boner out. I know that a ménage à trois is every man’s dream but it seems like a waste of or maybe an under utilization of …

My pondering is interrupted by an even louder, “Mimi kuja, Boner-san, Mimi kuja, Boner-san, Mimi kuja, Boner-san.” I’ve gotta get outta here. I head back to Sindy.

“We’ve not been properly introduced. I’m Bob. It’s nice to meet you, Sindy.”

“It’s Jane really. Sindy is the stage name that Joe gave me right after my screen test.”

“I didn’t know that women had to pass screen tests. I would have thought that you would only have to show your assets, so to speak. Where as with men they have to verify their size and their staying …”

Jane interrupts with, “Oh no. Joe does all of the female screen tests personally. One girl had fourteen screen tests before Joe gave her a bit part.”

“How many screen tests did you have?”

“I had a normal sorta, sucking and fucking screen test when Joe got this big idea that I would be an ideal bondage babe for the S&M crowd. So he gave me all of this leather shit, a stack of S&M movies, told me to go home and practice and come back and test for a part in his new bondage film, Bite Me, Bite Me.”

“You were in Bite Me, Bite Me?”

“Yeah, and fourteen films since. I’m known in the industry as Bite-Me, Bite-Me Sindy.”

“Have you always been into S&M? I myself find that administering or receiving physical abuse to be …”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, I do too. This S&M stuff is just the part I play to make a living. You don’t have to be able to fly to play Superman, do you? Or you don’t have be a vampire to play Dracula.”

“Okay, I see your point.”

“Here try some of this,” Jane says pointing to a line of coke on the coffee table. “This must be a big occasion. Joe doesn’t break out his good shit very often.”

“No thanks, you go ahead. I’ll stick with this beer, I’ve got a long day ahead.”

“What is it that you do, exactly?”

“Well I don’t do much but I look after Boner. I guess you could say I am his agent or his guardian, or his baby-sitter, or his chaperone, or his escort and sometimes his watchdog. Anyway, I look after Boner.”

She sniffs, or is it snorts, one of the lines of coke, slides down on the sofa, closes her eyes and murmurs, “Bite me, bite me, bite me …”

I don’t know if her “bite me, bite me” is a request or if my little tête à tête with the bondage queen is over.

The Japanese room is empty and dark. I wander around peeking into the other rooms until I find the film crew, under their hot lamps, avidly watching Lynda Loveface do her thing on Boner. This girl, Lynda, is really, really talented. I saw the original Deep Throat in an up-scale theatre back in the seventies and have since lost touch with how this technique has evolved …

“MIMI KUJA, MIMI KUJA, MIMI KUJA,” Boner shouts, his loudest Mimi kujas to date. If volume means anything, Lynda has just taken first prize.

I go to the fridge for another beer and bump into Pierre and Jean. They are on their umpteenth glass of wine, and by the looks of the residue on the table, some of Jose’s “good shit”. They are counting down the minutes until they get their time with Boner. I’ve never been a fan of gay action and one can only imagine what a gay tag team does. A gay tag team, it boggles the …

“Monsieur Bob come and sit with us s’il vous plaît and tell us about that simply stunning friend of yours. Oh what a grand pénis he has. We can’t wait to get to know him a little better.”

“Have either of you seen my friend Chui, the Mexican guy in the red polo shirt that came in with me and Boner?”

“Non Monsieur we haven’t seen him since your friend Boner showed everyone his grand pénis.”

I just got seated when the makeup lady yells at the Frenchmen. It’s time for them to get prepped for their big chance to get to know Boner’s grand pénis a little better. They hurry off more excited than anyone I’ve met here today. They better be good, Lynda looked like a hard act to follow but I suppose if you’re gay and in this business you’d develop some …

“Can I join you for a beer?” I look up to see a smiling Anal-Annie.

“Sure, sit down and I’ll get you a beer.”

“So Annie, how did you end up at the butt end of things?”