It was just after eleven on a Tuesday night – a sleeping hour for normal people, cocktail hour for restaurant people. The Porn Star and I had just found a cab and pointed in the direction of my normal watering hole.
“You really haven’t seen any of my movies? I have made almost 50 adult features” She asked for a second time and loud enough for the cab driver to readjust his rear view mirror.
“Adult films aren’t my thing” I said trying to be as polite as possible in my phrasing. This was the first of many what-have-I-gotten-myself-into moments.
“I am in town on a promotional tour for my new movie. Say, can we go to a strip club? Because of my work, I usually get everything for free if I dance for one song.”
“The place we’re headed is pretty fun” I non-answered.
Like she was rehearsing for an upcoming scene, she slid closer to me on the seat and pawed my thigh. “You have very strong legs” she drawled in a southern lilt that reminded me of Madonna affecting her British accent.
It was hard to determine through the slit of mirror, but I think the cabbie’s eyes registered jealousy… or disapproval. I was too busy masking the growing shame in my own to make a final determination. Thankfully we had reached the bar.
Porn Star displayed ballet like grace as she took my hand and alighted from the car. A fitted mini-skirt, rather high heels, and surgically high center of gravity led me to expect that she would lean on my palm for balance; but her touch was light. Her grace was fleeting. As soon as she reached the sidewalk, she said – ostensibly to me, but actually to the trio of frat boys walking by us – “I really like to fuck.”
Satisfied that she had drawn their gaze – overkill as I am certain her breasts were sufficient to get them gawking – she walked towards the bar door.
“Hi. I’m Porn Star, Adult Film Actress” she said to the bartender and anyone else within 10 yards.
I was with a woman who would suck the light from the moon if she thought you were paying it too much attention. What had once seemed like an interesting evening has become painfully embarrassing. We could not stay here.
“There’s no one here. A great DJ is spinning at the joint down the street.” I announced. It was the kind of place that I normally despise – too loud music, men in too tight pants, too dark, too expensive, and too hip by half – but I wouldn’t know anyone in the room. It was perfect.
At the hipster hangout, it wasn’t long before Porn Star lost interest in me. I was bled dry of attention and she needed more to keep life force going. She kept introducing herself to anyone who passed through her tractor beam. “Hi. I’m Porn Star, Adult Film Actress.” I must have heard it a dozen times.
When she started kissing a woman on the dance floor I escaped out the door.
There aren’t many in this city who can begin a story with “the time I went on a date with a Porn Star.” This particular story wasn’t worth it.