My gaze wandered across the shelf from right to left, then up one row, then another. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A chill ran up the back of my neck, and I let out a shriek that surely pierced the ears of nearby animals.
It was the first time I had ever seen one of my movies on a shelf, in real life.
As I was making the transition from living in Texas to California, I was making my first few adult movies. The first was a feature film, and the second two were “gonzos” – just a series of sex scenes. My career choice was quite deliberate (that story's for another After Dark article) and I was eagerly anticipating seeing the finished product.
I lived in Valley Village, Calif., for the first few months as I looked for a house, and as luck would have it, discovered a DVD rental place right down the street from my apartment.
Before I had satellite TV, I constantly rented movies, and in turn became casually familiar with the clerk. It's not like he had any idea what I did for a living – I just went in, looked around a bit, made my selection, checked out and left.
After a while, I realized my local rental spot had a curtained-off adult section. Of course I nonchalantly – but constantly – browsed the back room for my own titles.
My very first movie was called “Modern Love” was in the editing phase for a while. There was acting and dialogue. “North Pole #9,” however, was a different story.
That afternoon started just like any other: I ran errands, tanning booth, bank, post office – and rented a DVD.
I wasn't expecting it when I came across “North Pole #9.” The box featured me with short brown hair posed naked on a white background.
SIDENOTE: I loved doing that scene, and I can still remember it today. I had great sex with Cheyne Collins (wonder if HE remembers!) in a house on the ocean.
The box was all the way over on the right hand side of the top shelf, I nearly missed it. When I saw it, I jumped up and grabbed it with a squeal. This noise was enough to summon the clerk, who probably never would have guessed that the girl who comes in to rent seasons of “South Park” was about to show up in the “New Release” section behind the black curtain.
As he rounded the corner I was still bouncing up and down grinning. I proudly showed him the cover. He looked at it, looked at me, then looked back at the box.
He made the connection.
I'll never forget the feeling; it was a moment that changed the way I thought about being in the business. It was surreal to see myself among “porn stars” that I had been watching, masturbating and having sex to for the past few years. I had joined their ranks, and though I was low girl on the totem pole [EDITOR'S NOTE: Pun always intended.], I knew great things were coming. [EDITOR'S NOTE: See note No. 1.]
To know that people could rent that movie and watch me having sex was such a turn on, and yes, he let me have the movie for free.