Girlvert: A Porno Memoir (18 page)

Kris and I made out passionately on the floor. I pulled out his dick and licked it. I put it in my mouth, sucked it, and played with it in my hands. I wanted nothing more than for it to get hard so I could show Tyler how great I was. But Kris’s dick would not get hard. It was the coke. His long penis was limp as a shoestring. It embarrassed him and he reassured me that it had nothing to do with me. Instead of letting Tyler and Randa steal my attention again, I put my ass in Kris’s face and laid my face on the floor.

“Spank me. Hit me. Come on, I want you to,” I said.

Kris’s humungous hand made firm contact with my butt cheek.

“Harder! Do it harder!”

He reached back and got a full swing. Smack! It hurt, but it felt right. I needed it to hurt. He got excited and pulled my underwear down.

“Come on, give it to me harder. I need it!” I yelled. The blows came quickly and mercilessly. Both of us were getting off on the infliction, the punishment. It was an outlet for what was going on inside. Tyler and Randa were now fucking and making noises on the couch. I kept begging Kris to hit me more. He spanked my bare ass over and over. Finally, I couldn’t take the pain anymore. My ass cheeks were turning a dark black and blue. Visually, it was exciting. Kris and I sprawled out on the carpet and continued to kiss. When Tyler and Randa finished fucking, we all came back to the pile of coke. Everyone forgot what’d happened for a while. Kris put on music and we drank some more booze. Tyler and I planned to stay the night, since it was already nearly four in the morning.

Kris and I went into the bedroom and fell asleep in his bed. Tyler and Randa weren’t ready to retire. They didn’t go to sleep. Instead, they did more coke and Special K before leaving to the neighbor’s house to fuck some more. Both of them were out of their minds. I don’t think there was a lot of premeditation put into their plan. Before they left, Tyler pulled me out of the bed. He got angry with me for cuddling up to Kris. I slept on the floor after that.

Daylight and yelling woke me up. The guesthouse was empty except for me. The front door was wide open and there was some kind of screaming match going on in the yard. I got up and scurried outside. Good thing I slept in my clothes all night.

“Hey man, just cool it. Calm down! We weren’t doing anything!” Tyler shouted at Kris.

“Look, don’t tell me shit right now! I saw you coming back from the neighbor’s house! What the fuck is going on?” Kris stood tall over Tyler and Randa. He had his fist cocked, ready to hit someone.

“Kris, it’s not what you think. We just wanted to party a little and we didn’t want to keep you up. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be upset.” Randa looked creepy with her sunglasses on and her skinny body squirming around as she tried to explain herself. They looked caught to me. I didn’t care, but Kris was filled with hatred, mad at them both.

“Kris, I’m sorry. Please don’t make it such a big deal. We weren’t doing anything, please trust me.” Tyler’s eyes were wide from being on drugs all night. He was lying, but he was so fucked up that he meant what he said.

Kris had to go to work soon. The rest of us had the day off. I think that’s what pissed him off the most. We returned to the guesthouse, and Randa followed Kris into the bedroom, shutting the door.

I was ready to leave right then and there. Tyler said he was too fucked up to go anywhere. He put his arms around me and pulled me onto the floor with him. His eyes shut and he fell asleep. There was no reason for me to ask him what happened. Only lies would come out of his mouth. I didn’t care too much. I gave up. His actions only made me resentful. The fun was over for me, with Tyler. He was off having it without me now.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Judge Mathis

I
t
didn’t happen overnight, and it was messy. Our inevitable breakup exploded into reality. Tyler didn’t see it coming. He wanted to stay together forever, but he didn’t show me that he cared anymore. He said he loved me, over and over, but he couldn’t prove it. All of his actions spoke more than a thousand words which ultimately spelled out IT’S OVER. He even forgot my birthday. The more he told me “I love you,” the more I resented him. By now I felt more like his parent and guardian than his girlfriend.

Our demise began shortly after the introduction of Kris. Kris remained a steadfast pal to my boyfriend after the fateful night between Tyler and Randa. They worked together, drank, and hung out. And they talked. Tyler confided in Kris about the many girls he was fucking on the side, girls I didn’t know about. He was giving them rides in the car that I put the down payment on and fucking them in the backseat. Sometimes he did it in our garage in Tarzana, while I was upstairs clueless. Even open relationships require honesty. I’d let Tyler have sex with whomever he wanted for work, or in our private life, as long as I knew about it. I tolerated so much, there was no reason for him to be unfaithful behind my back.

Kris also lent his sympathetic ears to me when I cried about Tyler’s thoughtlessness. Kris complained about his own cheating girlfriend and encouraged me to stand up to Tyler’s behavior. I trusted Kris. He cared about me, deeply, or so I thought. When Tyler had his back turned, Kris told me, showed me, that I was special. I fell hook, line and sinker for the seduction. Kris knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. I felt justified indulging in the emotions I suddenly felt for another man. I wasn’t cheating on Tyler because he was cheating on me. I was taking care of myself. I was falling in love with Kris.

Tyler had met a skinny Canadian girl on one of his sets. Her name was Trixy. She had dishwater hair, blue eyes, and a knobby body. He brought her to our home one afternoon after they had both fucked in a scene. I thought nothing of it. Tyler was casual about it when he said he was going to drive Trixy home. I said, “It was nice to meet you, Trixy.” I kissed Tyler goodbye. I never thought he would take hours and hours to return. I never thought he would come back an emotional wreck. Tyler had a painful expression on his face when I asked him where he’d been.

“Ori, I think I just need a vacation. I need to take a break from all this.” He held me by both of my hands, desperate to get the words out.

“Sure! We can go anywhere we want. Let’s go on a vacation. Why are you so sad?”

“Baby, I don’t know how I can tell you this.”

“Tell me? I don’t understand you. If you want to go on a vacation, we’ll go,” I said.

“No, Ori.
I
want to go on vacation. Not us. I want to go by myself.”

“What do you mean? A vacation by yourself? Why? How could you go on a vacation without me?”

“No, don’t cry. Just listen.”

He put his arms around me. But he couldn’t properly explain himself. It crushed me. Couples that live together, especially with our freedoms, do not go on separate vacations. I could understand if I was a frigid and uptight chick that never let him go out, but we did porn and drugs and had a very exciting life together. The confusion and argument and tears went on all night, until I finally cried myself to sleep. Tyler tried to cuddle up next to me in bed, but I wasn’t responsive. He’d finally broken my heart. The next day, we talked about his trip. He was going no matter what and wanted my blessing. Five days in Miami.

I said, “Have a good time.”

Less than a week before Tyler was to leave I learned that he was taking the Canadian porno chick with him. Tyler and Trixy had made the plans even before he brought her over to meet me. Tyler slipped up and mentioned her name on the phone while we discussed the money I was loaning him for the trip. I never knew it was possible to feel such hatred, such rage. It filled up my whole head, up through my chest, choking me. I couldn’t breathe. Tyler bought Trixy her airline ticket. He borrowed five hundred dollars from me to pay for their hotel room. I was going to stay home and shoot anal scenes to pay the bills and the rent. Was this a joke? No, no joke was this funny. I was the fucking joke. Tyler was going to leave with this whore in a couple of days, and I was staying home to cry about it. This was not how I had envisioned our lives only six months after he’d given me an engagement ring.

After Tyler left, Kris soothed me as I sobbed over my life and the dire situation my relationship was in. I felt like an ugly, useless, non-sexual slave.

“Don’t say that,” Kris said, calming me. “You’re gorgeous and sexy. Tyler’s a chump for treating you like this. Let him go off with that ugly whore. He’s the one missing out. You don’t have to stay home and think about him if you don’t want to.”

“What can I do, I’m not the one on vacation. He is. I wasn’t invited.”

“Come with me to Vegas! I want to take you to see Duran Duran! I got tickets for this weekend. They’re my favorite band. What do you say?”

“I don’t know. I mean, Tyler will get mad if I go with you. He’ll be jealous.”

“Fuck him! Look at what he’s doing to you right now. He should be jealous. You don’t need to worry about him. He’s on vacation with someone else. You just worry about
you
right now. Say yes, come on.”

“Okay.”

I called Tyler and told him about the plan. He hesitated, then said, “I’m sure you’ll have a good time. Kris’s a really great guy. I’m happy for you.” Nothing in his response was heartfelt. He sounded sad but resigned. I yearned for him to fill with jealousy and beg me not to go, crying that he still loved me, that he was a fool to leave me and that he was coming home immediately, but it didn’t happen. There was no way Tyler would tell me not to go with Kris—he wouldn’t cancel his own affair.

At the time all I wanted to do was numb the pain. I loved Tyler, and it hurt to have us end up like this. Jealousy was new to me, and it consumed me. I was sick from it. Jealousy flu. A fever that I couldn’t bring down, and it was cooking up my brain. It poisoned me, deep in my soul. I couldn’t get rid of it. Every time Tyler came into my thoughts, the jealousy rolled into my head in a toxic smog.

I called Tyler in Florida again from the Las Vegas hotel room. Kris and I were already doing coke not two minutes after we set our bags down. I told Tyler I was happy and to have a good time with his tramp without me. I told him Kris was taking
really good
care of me. My anger was so deep that it seeped out of my every word. No amount of drugs could mask my true feelings about what was happening.

Kris had had the trip planned for weeks. I don’t think he ever had a doubt in his mind that I would be coming with him. We went out to clubs, the Duran Duran concert, restaurants. He gave me money to gamble with and let me try GHB. We sniffed cocaine all weekend and had terrific sex. Kris swept me up and away. By the end of the three days, I was in love with him. He was in love with me, too. His sensitivity was electric compared to Tyler’s disconnection. Far away from my crumbling, heartbreaking relationship, high in a fancy hotel room in the desert paradise, Kris was a new Prince Charming. My old one was a toad fucking some frog on my dime somewhere in Miami.

Things were tense when Tyler and I returned home from our separate vacations. He started staying out all night without calling me. There were more girls like Trixy. He went on actual romantic dates with other porno girls, while still calling me his girlfriend. I was his girlfriend, but he dated anyway, regardless of how I felt about it. He took a known industry prostitute to dinner for her birthday.

“Her real name’s Billie Rae, and she’s really cool,” he told me. He stayed out doing coke with her all night. I tried to remain calm. “She and I totally started talking about our childhoods. I told her about my mom and real dad. She opened up to me about her father. He used to force her to have sex with him.”

“Tyler, why are you telling me all of this?”

“You know how everyone starts talking about deep stuff as soon as you do a couple lines. I feel like you would like her. We really connected.” This is how Tyler justified taking this girl to the Water Grill, for her birthday, just days before my own.

Shortly after my twenty-second birthday—which he forgot—I told Tyler to move out. He’d stayed out doing speed with some whore named Lucky and didn’t come home all night. It was the final straw. I couldn’t take being so insignificant any longer. Tyler fell apart, crying and yelling, “We’re going to be together forever, and get married! Ori, please! Don’t do this! We can work it out! Say that you love me!”

We bawled and fought all night over breaking up. He didn’t want to, and I did. Tyler was convinced that if he got in my face every second that went by it would convince me to change my mind. Every move I made, he was there, holding me by the shoulders and forcing me to face him and look him in the eye. I still loved him, but I couldn’t forgive him. We fell asleep on the floor of our bedroom, exhausted. When we woke up the next morning, Tyler got up and went looking for an apartment. I loaned him eight hundred dollars to make the deposit on his own place. I thought,
now
he can date all these other whores and not have to parade it in front of my face. I was happy for him. I was free to see other guys. This was a huge benchmark in my adult life.

I put some tacky blonde highlights in my hair to signify a new beginning. My porno career was flying. A company paid me to shoot in Prague that summer. I bought some fancy new luggage and flew to the Czech Republic, all on my own. I felt like the most independent and successful young woman alive. It just so happened that Kris was shooting there, too, on a different assignment during the same week. I stayed in Prague for seven days. Kris picked me up at my chaperone’s house and we roamed the city. We went to the opera and did sightseeing. Like cinematic lovers, we held hands and kissed in the middle of the cobblestone streets. The time we spent in Prague shooting porno movies felt more like the workings of a romance novel. It felt like Kris and I were just meant to be, that circumstance brought us together for a reason. It felt like fate.

It was easy for me to read too much into it. I didn’t look at the whole picture. I fell in love with Kris too quickly. Tyler was still a fresh, deep wound. I didn’t have a clear enough head to accurately evaluate my feelings for Kris. I see it all now, as it really was, years later. Kris was Tyler’s friend. Kris cheated on his own girlfriend to be with me. I chose not to see that Kris was a cheater—or that I was, too. Kris and I justified it by kidding ourselves that Tyler was the only one who did wrong. I feel ashamed now, but at the time it made sense.

I returned from Prague only to go on a jaunt to Mexico with Kris, strictly a romantic getaway, not intended for work or revenge. The whole time, we condemned Tyler for being such a liar. I was too caught up feeling sorry for myself to realize how hypocritical this point of view was. Kris officially asked me to be his girlfriend on his thirty-eighth birthday. We had just returned from Mexico and were having dinner at the Water Grill. I was doing to Tyler exactly what he’d done to me. I’d convinced myself that Kris and I were different. We were actually falling in love. It was real and dreamlike at once. Kris was decadent and wooed me, showering me with attention and affection. I saw no flaws in him—then.

Tyler started doing heroin. Getting his own place turned out to be the exact point at which his life started to go rapidly downhill. Drugs had already been a daily staple, like water and air; as a couple, we functioned a little better on them. Without me to care for him, Tyler was too fucked up all the time. I’d always made sure the bills got paid, the clothes were washed, the toilet paper bought, etc., and Tyler could not fend for himself. None of his new girlfriends took care of him like I did.

I was, and am, very scared of heroin. I’ve never done it. Because my mom’s a junky, I’ve always been afraid that if I do it one time, I’ll be hooked. There’s too much risk of addiction in my DNA to play around with heroin.

Tyler started with Vicodin and OxyContin before turning to heroin. Over the course of a couple months his new apartment transformed into a junky hangout. He dated a few druggie porn chicks before settling with one main one. They got a dog, which they never took care of. They let it piss and shit all over the floors, let it eat garbage. Heroin makes you cease to care about anything except getting a fix. It’s not like speed or coke—it doesn’t make you want to get up and clean things and be proactive.

Fulton, Tyler’s downstairs neighbor and a mutual friend of ours, called me up and told me about Tyler’s new habit. Fulton had had his own drug problems. He told me he saw Tyler using needles.

“Are you sure they weren’t for steroids?”

“No, he’s shooting H. He’s a mess.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I wept. This wasn’t what I wanted for Tyler, no matter how bitter I was.

“You should talk to him. He’ll listen to you. He still loves you. Just come over, now.”

The neighbor let me in the locked gate to the apartment complex. I was nervous. I didn’t want to be there, near Tyler’s new whore or anyone else who might be living in his apartment. I knocked, and Tyler opened the door. He was shirtless as usual and in designer jeans. Smoke billowed out of the open door. He was surprised and smiled at me. It wasn’t Tyler’s normal, gleaming Colgate smile. His eyes were only half open and his face was pale and saggy.

“I need to talk to you. Come here. Come outside with me.” I was stern, but I could not stop the tears that welled up in my eyes.

It was like he was sleepwalking. “I just got up,” he said. It was past four in the afternoon.

“Tyler, what are you doing?”

“I was partying last night and I couldn’t wake up this morning. What’s the big deal? Don’t act so perfect. You do the same thing.”

Yes, but I wasn’t the one looking like a malnourished albino. Tyler had lost at least fifteen pounds since I last saw him. He looked like he hadn’t seen daylight or a tanning bed in months. However, he did have a nice haircut. At least there was one thing I never had to worry over with Tyler. His hair always looked perfect.