Hella Nation - Evan Wright [120]
Psycho Sexuals II, which I’d also written, was filmed in a stucco Spanish knock-off in Las Virgenes canyon. The house was a 1970s masterpiece, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a poured-concrete spiral staircase twisting above a shag-carpeted conversation pit. A white-enamel fireplace dominated one side of the room, its blackened interior yawning open like an empty mouth. Greg’s video monitor would be set up here. The refrigerator in the kitchen was decorated with drawings and God’s eyes—Popsicle sticks formed into crosses and wrapped with multicolored yarn—and a note, in blocky, childish handwriting, that said, “Bring bathing suit, towel, happy faces and Betty Boop pillow to Grandma’s.” The house had been rented from a family who had vacated it for the day.
Out on the veranda, Shayla LaVeaux, the twenty-seven-year-old star of Psycho Sexuals II, lounged on a pool chair, smoking cigarettes and baking her skin. Like many dancers and porn stars, Shayla had the classic looks and proportions of a model, but she was short, perhaps only five-two. She had doll-blue eyes and thick ringlets of natural blond hair piled up and pinned atop her head. Her shapely legs, shaved pubic mound and pointed, implanted breasts were completely visible through her sheer nightie top, which afforded little more cover than a prayer.
Shayla’s voice was gravelly and sweet, as if her vocal cords had been marinated in whiskey sours since puberty. Her laughter, for which she was well known in the industry, was a cackle that would be deafening in a crowded sports bar. Her body rippled from her stomach to her back and shoulders with well-developed muscles.
I asked her if she worked out.
“Are you kidding me?” She cackled and snorted, blowing plumes of smoke from her nostrils. “I got my body from dancing on the road for seven years. I do my workouts on the pole every night, honey.”
Though Shayla was getting top billing and her image on the video-box cover, the scene being filmed this day would feature a relative newcomer, Shelbee Myne, doing anal with her husband, Pat.
Shelbee, in her early twenties, was a dirty-blond and pretty, but with an overly tanned face that made her mouth look hard. In a tube top and shorts, she looked like a girl at the beach. She stood on the veranda, dabbing suntan lotion on her husband’s nose.
“You’ve got to be careful about getting a burn,” Shelbee said.
Pat drooped his head like an obedient mutt. His hair was close-cropped and bleached white-blond. He wore shorts and boots like the guys on the film crew. Though he was just two years older than his wife, his nose already had gin blossoms, accentuated by a sunburn.
Shelbee and Pat had met when she worked at a paging company and he worked as a shipping clerk in a warehouse. She entered porn first. Her husband followed when he discovered that he had a talent for maintaining an erection. Of the couple, Shelbee was the star. Women were more in demand than men. Her pay for her anal scene in Psycho Sexuals II would be $1,500. His pay would be $100.
When the filming began, Greg sat with his back to the set and watched the action unfold on the video monitor. Shelbee and Shayla entered the conversation pit. They played roommates stalked