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If you are enjoying these stories, leave a comment about what you liked or didn’t, or things you want to ready more of. I’ll take advice into consideration when I’m working out the next parts of the LoP stories.
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March 1999
A few days later, I woke a little earlier as I had to make my way south to San Diego.
I showered and got myself looking somewhat respectable in some chinos and one of my nicer long sleeve shirts. I didn’t know what Tiffany had in mind for this shoot, but I knew for a fact that clothes were not something that would be needed.
I made good time to the spot. Double checking the address, and then making sure that my numbers were indeed written down correctly, I gawked at the house that stood before me.
House being a vague term. The place was a mansion, complete with gate, high stucco wall, and many palm trees blocking the actual structure. The house was large enough to see despite all of that. I drove up to the gate and a man came out to greet me.
“Name?” he said simply.
“Uh, Paul. I’m here to see Tiffany…”
“Go ahead,” he said without even consulting a list. He opened the gate and I rolled up the drive.
It was a drive alright. There was a long driveway that had its own little grass area enclosed by palm trees and some benches and a few naked women.
Wait a second…
I slowed down to see that, yes indeed, two very attractive, buxom blonde women were posing for a photographer who was moving around them as they posed. An assistant was staying out of the way holding a reflector and another one was further away tending to some equipment.
I managed to pull my attention back to the present and found where people were parking, so I pulled into a spot and went to the front door. It was open and there was actually quite a bit of activity going on.
To my left, in a sitting room of sorts, another photo session was happening, this time with a man and a woman, who were pretending to be in the throes of passion. They would move now and again but their expressions were staged for the camera. The woman was brunette and seemed a little familiar, but the dude was unknown to me, as were the photographers and other assistants in the room.
To my right there were several large tables set out with food and beverage covering the entire surface. And not just soda either; full on bottles of liquor, several types of beers, and mixing components also were present.
I strolled through the foyer and on ahead and into the next set of rooms. In one room, one very fortunate looking man was getting a blowjob by three women. Again, posing for the camera and doing just enough motion to keep the dude erect.
At this point, I was having a hard time (pun intended) not getting an erection from all the naked women present.
After still more exploring, and a helpful person directing me with a thumb jerk as they rushed by, lead me to more areas where people were doing variations on nearly every male fantasy that I ever had, and even introducing me to a few new ones that I will start having.
Finally finding my way down a small hallway, there was a printed sign taped to the door that said “Coordinator”, so I knocked to get the attention of the woman sitting at a folding table.
“Excuse me,” I said as polite as I could, “could you tell me where I can find Tiffany? She asked me to come in and…”
“Sit down please,” she said. Even though she said please it was not a request, so I did. She put a few forms in front of me and tossed me a pen.
“Fill these out and sign at the bottom. Just so we’re clear, all images, videos, drawings, writings, and other created media are all copyright to the company and you are willingly signing over these rights in order to appear in said media, with proper credit being assigned when and if said images, video, etc are used. Do you understand these terms?”
“Um, yes,” I said.
“Good, fill out the paperwork. Yellow copy is yours. Make sure your address is clear as you won’t get a check if I can’t read your address. I’ll make a photocopy of your ID and then you’ll be all set.”
She took my ID and copied it. I filled out the paperwork as instructed, which was surprisingly thorough. I did not have a stage name, which it asked me for, so I just used my first name. Like Cher. I also had absolutely no idea what I was signing up for, but I just went along with it hoping that Tiffany could explain a thing or two when I see her.
I handed them back and the woman scanned them quickly. “Good,” she said. She gave me my copies and told me Tiffany was on the 3rd floor, east wing.
Geez, this place had wings?
I left her office and went to the third floor. Along the way I passed several rooms where loud female voices could be heard. The signs on the door indicated shooting was in progress and not to disturb.
So I guess they’re shooting more than just pictures here then. Okay.
Getting to the third floor, I passed a studio of sorts where several women were in chairs. Most were wearing robes of some kind, a couple were naked and getting their breasts powdered. A slim, brown skinned man with a fanny pack of cosmetics bustled around the women, applying various things to various body parts.
That didn’t seem like a bad job. If I ever need to work, I’ll look into that as a possibility.
Going down a hallway in what I’d hoped was the east wing, I got to an open door. Peeking inside, I could see Tiffany and another women sitting on a sofa, their backs to me, chatting and looking at photos and what appeared to be layouts proofs.
“Hi,” I said, knocking and entering the room. Tiffany, dropping her photos, ran to greet me. Her long auburn ponytail wiping out behind her, she hugged me tightly.
“Thank’s for coming,” she said, her words muffled as her mouth was buried in my neck. “And right on time.”
Letting her go, I said “I’ve been here for half an hour. I was surprised by the activity, and then had to sign paperwork, and got lost a few times. It was very different than what I expected when you said it would be just you, me, and the photographer.”
“And so it will be. Eventually,” Tiffany said. I noticed that she was wearing some light makeup, but only around her eyes. Her freckled cheeks were still freckled, which was one of her best features if you asked me. She looked more sultry that I would have expected for a photographer. It was enticing.
“Here, this is Jenny,” she said, introducing the other woman sitting on the couch. She rose up to greet me. “She’s a great photographer and she’ll be the one shooting us today.”
I had to force my brain to start taking breaths again. Jenny, which must be her real name, was none other than the most prolific XXX star in history, Jeri St. James. At least up to that point. The sheer number of movies and magazines she’d been in were staggering, and the fact I was here with her now was fascinating.