Page 32 of Dad Next Door
I laughed, the last of my apprehension melting away. I’d figured Tristan would be fine with the news, but the underlying fear that I’d lose another friend because of my past was always present when I told people.
He sipped his wine, his eyes on a point in the distance.
“Go ahead and ask whatever you’re wondering. I’m used to questions.” I busied myself with pouring myself another glass of wine.
“How did you get into that? You don’t have to tell me if it’s a negative thing,” he added quickly.
“It’s not.” I swirled my wine around in my glass. “Do you want the short version or the one with context?”
“Context.”
I nodded and leaned back against the sectional. This was also a tricky part, determining just how much to tell people. I wanted Tristan to know the truth because we were close, and I didn’t like keeping secrets from my inner circle, but finding that line between honesty and oversharing wasn’t easy.
“I’d been living in the city for about a year when I was approached by a studio to do some explicit modeling after the owner saw me in an off-Broadway show that was on the spicy side. I was broke and figured it would be an easy way to make some extra cash so I could pay my rent. I assumed the contract was for a photo shoot, but it was for filming a porn scene.”
I ran the tip of my finger over the rim of my glass and covertly checked Tristan’s body language. He was relaxed and listening intently.
“I filmed with them and figured it would be a one-and-done thing. But they offered me an exclusive contract after the scene was released.”
“What’s an exclusive contract?”
“It meant I wasn’t allowed to work with other studios or do any sort of amateur partnered content. They guaranteed me a certain number of scenes per year, and I agreed to do appearances and stuff to promote them. I only signed with them because of the monthly stipend. That was the only steady income I had the whole time I was on contract, and it was why I was able to stay in the city as long as I did. It wouldn’t have been worth it for just the scene pay.”
“I thought people in porn got paid well?” He swiped another piece of flatbread off the tray.
“Women do. But you have to be a huge name or have a stake of some sort in the studio to make big bucks as a male performer. I made about ten percent of what my scene partners did. In straight porn, the male is just there to be a human dildo. The woman is the one who brings in the audience.”
Tristan tilted his head thoughtfully. “I never thought of that. Is it different in gay porn?”
“Oh yeah. Tops usually get paid more than bottoms, but both roles can make good money if they have a following. That’s actually why I started my online content work.”
“What do you mean?”
“As another way to make money. Most of my fans are women and queer men. I figured marketing solo content to them would be more lucrative than focusing on content that was for straight men. That’s also why I started dancing when I retired three years ago. I already had a following, and it helped me shift my brand from studio work to solo stuff. My plan is to keep with the solo stuff while I get my contracting firm off the ground and make it into a profitable business, then keep it as passive income until it’s not viable anymore.”
“Wow. That’s really smart. You have a head for business.” Tristan shot back the last of his wine. “Do you miss it?”
“Not at all.” I chuckled and finished my drink. “It’s hard to explain, but I didn’t enjoy filming. I didn’t hate it or anything, but it was work.”
He arched his eyebrow at me.
“A lot of people have this romanticized view of porn, and it can be like that for some models, but it wasn’t for me.”
Explaining this part of my job to people was hit or miss too. My friends at Crimson understood because they were also sex workers. People outside the industry didn’t always get it, and I’d been called a liar more times than I could count.
Tristan sat quietly while I refilled our glasses.
“Most people don’t understand how porn is made, not unless you’re in the industry or know someone who is. It’s not just some dude with a camera filming you having sex from start to finish. It’s a full production with a crew, a set, and multiple takes. At least with studios. It’s different when people film their own stuff to sell, but I only did studio work, so this was my experience. On average, it took between four and seven hours to film a twenty-minute scene.”
He widened his eyes comically. “For real?”
“Yup.” I chuckled at his bug-eyed expression. “The first hour or so is usually a meeting where you talk about the scene and break down limits and whatnot with your scene partner. Then you do a walk-through with the script to get your marks and do your blocking. Once that’s done, you do a dry run, or like a dress rehearsal, where you move through the blocking and take the scene promo photos. Then it’s time to film the actual scene. That can take anywhere from a few hours to a full day, depending on how long it is, how complicated the blocking is, or how many breaks you take.”
“And you’re…performing for that entire time.”
“Most of it.” I tipped my head back and drank more of my wine. I had a decent tolerance, but I could feel the start of a wine buzz as my chest and neck flushed warm. “Once filming starts, at least. Even with the starting and stopping, it’s usually only for a few minutes to change camera angles or fix the lighting. They tried not to make us wait for too long because it’s hard on the male talent, no pun intended.”
“How do you…”