George and Emily went into the studio as I emerged to take care of the administrative chores. I don't like shuffling papers, but it's a necessary evil. The Office Manager came up to me at this point and asked: "Where are the ID papers?"

"I thought we'd taken care of that. Makeup Lady xeroxed the stuff off."

"Well," said the Office Manager, "She's trying to be helpful, but that's not how we do things. We don't have any copies for the office."

"But she xeroxed off a bunch of copies," I said.

"She gave them to the actors, but WE don't have any copies."

I went back in and grabbed my stack of papers.

"You've got their AIDS tests!" she all but shrieked. "You're not supposed to have those."

In California, the AIDS tests are on a sort of bluish paper (at least from that lab) and are imprinted with a seal and initialed by someone at the lab. I had the originals. The Office Manager explained that I wasn't supposed to have the originals -- the actors needed those.

We re-xeroxed all the paperwork. One set for me, one for the office: IDs and AIDS tests, and Model Release forms, all the proper blanks filled out. "Please," she said, "After this, let's just you and I take care of this."

I agreed. We had a system set up, and I have to compliment her on her efficiency for the rest of the shoot. Thereafter, at the beginning of every scene, I had the paperwork I needed for the manila folder in my briefcase. Without the paperwork, we would be wasting our time. Federal Law, you know:

18 USC Sec. 2257 or, one might call it the "Tracy Lords, et al Law." Thanks, Tracy.

TITLE 18 - CRIMES AND CRIMINAL PROCEDURE PART I - CRIMES

CHAPTER 110 - SEXUAL EXPLOITATION AND OTHER ABUSE OF CHILDREN

Sec. 2257. Record keeping requirements

-STATUTE-

(a) Whoever produces any book, magazine, periodical, film, videotape, or other matter which -

(1) contains one or more visual depictions made after November 1, 1990 of actual sexually explicit conduct; and

(2) is produced in whole or in part with materials which have been mailed or shipped in interstate or foreign commerce, or is shipped or transported or is intended for shipment or transportation in interstate or foreign commerce; shall create and maintain individually identifiable records pertaining to every performer portrayed in such a visual depiction.

(b) Any person to whom subsection (a) applies shall, with respect to every performer portrayed in a visual depiction of actual sexually explicit conduct -

(1) ascertain, by examination of an identification document containing such information, the performer's name and date of birth, and require the performer to provide such other indicia of his or her identity as may be prescribed by regulations;

(2) ascertain any name, other than the performer's present and correct name, ever used by the performer including maiden name, alias, nickname, stage, or professional name; and

(3) record in the records required by subsection (a) the information required by paragraphs (1) and (2) of this subsection and such other identifying information as may be prescribed by regulation.

(c) Any person to whom subsection (a) applies shall maintain the records required by this section at his business premises, or at such other place as the Attorney General may by regulation prescribe and shall make such records available to the Attorney General for inspection at all reasonable times. And that's just the nitty-gritty (several other pages cut out). I used to be a legal secretary, and believe me, looking up statutes on the Internet saves a WHOLE lotta time.

But you WILL note that I am required to be able to prove at all times that I am not one of those dreadful "child pornographers" that somehow get so much play on Capitol Hill and in every radio and TV story done about the Internet in the last few years. (There was yet *another* Child Pornography story all over the media yesterday, as I write this: ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, NPR, Fox. Something about ISPs promising to remove and report all child pornography on their computers. To hear it, you'd have thought that Kiddie Porn was as widespread as seawater.)

If anyone realized the utter rarity of Kiddie Porn in this country (the leading supplier in the 1980's was the U.S. Postal Inspectors, "stinging" people with solicitations) the laughter would echo from sea to shining sea. Still, like porn, or drugs, it's one of those "hot button" issues that can always be counted on for votes or for media coverage, and is, in a very real sense, more a politician's fetish than an actual menace.

I mean, I'm against ANYONE doing this below the age of consent, but my experience (and, on occasion, my research) suggests to me that we're talking about a goddamned RARE phenomenon. I remember in the mid-1980's when we found a fellow working in the warehouse of one of the magazines was running child pornography (photos): they turned him in IMMEDIATELY. No one in that company would countenance that shit for a minute.

At the time, John Holmes told me on the phone that HE'D turn in any bastard he caught doing Kiddie Porn without a second thought -- very few people in the business would countenance Child Pornography, and those few knew enough to keep their mouths shut in everyone else's presence.

Still, without Communism to launch Holy Crusades against, they've got to have SOMETHING, right?

Kiddie Porn was -- more or less universally -- a taboo within the Business. Now, in 1997, I am required to prove that I *am not* a purveyor of THAT filth with all sorts of documentation and record-keeping requirements, courtesy of some Congressman up for re-election, and, probably, between bouts of shutting down the government out of sheer cussedness.

Now that I had the proper paperwork, I called Zenza and Krisz into the Agent's office (several times) and, finally, after their various personal grooming functions were taken care of, I had them sign my little receipt book (in triplicate), gave them a receipt, and paid them in little green pictures of Ben Franklin and Ulysses S. Grant.

Whew! All the while, I was carrying on a conversation with the Agent -- who, in all fairness, had actually done a stellar job for me. He'd cut me deals, he'd kept his word, he had booked good performers, and, frankly, been there for me every bit as much as I could have hoped. I have no complaints.

I suppose that, were I a control freak, a Type A personality, the delays of that morning might have seemed impossible, but those weren't the Agent's fault. It's a corollary of the Business that actors don't show up on time, and I was never particularly worried about it.

In fact, we'd only planned to shoot two scenes the first day, and three the next, with the morning given over to dressing and lighting the set. We'd been able to do it the night before -- and at no charge from the Agent -- and were still actually ahead of our planned schedule. It was now about 3 pm, and we'd figured on being ready for the second scene at about 4 pm.

With our records in order, and our first two performers paid off, I went back into the studio, and Camera-Man and Pard'ner had already dressed the set, hit the air-conditioner, cooled down the studio (it was still HOT, even with the fan), and Camera-Man was taking "pretty girl" stills of our Emily. The purple comforter had been stripped off and the next put on the bed, and we were ready to rock.

Since Krisz has already managed to wipe out our meager supply of douche, I have to send Pard'ner down to the supermarket to pick up more. We pick up two more twin-packs. Four more girls, four more water and vinegar disposable douches. That ought to be enough.

I tell Office Manager: "Look, since this is Pard'ner's first shoot, when he gets back, tell him to GO IN. He might see that closed door and stand out in the hall for the entire scene.

She promises to do that. I go inside.

I noticed two rings lying by the couch, and asked George if they were his.

Now, you've got to understand that George understands English a LOT worse than he lets on -- he has mastered the Art of LOOKING as though he knows what you're talking about -- and so he nodded gravely. I thought they might be Zenza's, but the authority of George's nod convinced me otherwise. Well, they *were* Zenza's as we'd find out.

I stuffed the purple comforter back into its trash bag, and the scent that came off it smelled like an explosion at a perfume factory. I wondered vaguely what "Emi Lee" would think when they ever serviced our room: two straight looking guys check into motel room and leave it smelling like a Storyville cathouse.

Well, given what we'd discovered in the motel room already, they probably wouldn't think a thing about it.

The Office Manager entered the studio with George and Emily's paperwork for USC Sec. 2257 and the California AIDS Test requirement, and we were ready to go. Day 1, Couple 2, Tape 2, Scene 1. Color bars and slate.

I take up the slating chores in Pard'ner's absence. Before we get rolling, Pard'ner is back with the douche. Ne immediately notes that we're running a bit too hot on the monitor. We step back down.

And, ACTION!

George and Emily were nothing short of amazing. A couple, they went through a routine which consisted of a well-oiled series of positions -- at one point, with the camera in a tight closeup, they managed three changes of position without ever moving out of frame.

I told Camera-Man to keep rolling tape. We appreciated their proficiency, but we sort of had some other ideas about what we wanted to shoot. It was like reining in a runaway team of horses.

Still, fast-forwarding through the rushes, I could always tell when we were giving instructions: the look of focused concentration on Emily's face gave it away every time. She actually LISTENED intently to direction -- this sort of professionalism is not always the norm in porn shoots. Indeed, it is rare to watch a performer concentrating THAT intensely on direction.

Since George and Emily were a couple, I was able to do something that I've wanted to try for years. "Can you get Emily off?" I asked. They both agreed that he could.

"Good," I said, "Do it." And then we filmed it. "Get her off, George. ACTION!"

(Gee, I guess a Director DOES have God-like powers. Here it was, less than 24 hours after I'd met them, and now I was commanding the Eastern Bloc Babe to Orgasm on Cue for me. Not one of those career choices I ever imagined when I was back lugging my books around Santa Fe High.)

Later, when I showed the rushes to my wife, she said: "There is no doubt that she had an orgasm." I defer to her judgment: The ability to tell whether or not a woman has come is spotty in we males, at best.

Then, we had to go back and do pickup shots. Since we were shooting up Emily's body, and the back of George's head, I told him to move his head, to mime giving head. Why? Well, generally when the tongue-work is fanciest, the cranium moves the least -- which is fine for Emily, but not very good cinematically. He seemed to not get the point.

Emily looks down at him on the tape and translates: "Yefarslikt befornye zhuk zhud shenkrustovnik!" [Not an exact transcription.]

George immediately gets it, and we conclude this portion.

At this point, Emily has to take a quick bathroom break. Pard'ner and Camera-Man exit in search of cold drinks from the ice-chest, leaving me and George alone in the studio for a couple of minutes.

To a civilian this would be a bit surreal: a naked man on a bed, playing with himself disinterestedly to keep himself up, and me, the Director, trying to explain to him what "Hair, George!" means. (While I've got a minute, I figure I might as well use it profitably.)

"When we say `Hair, George' that means we need you to get Emily's hair out of her face."

George nods gravely. Is any of this getting through to him?

"Take your Upstage hand -- the one away from the camera -- and, starting at the part in her hair, pull it UP and AWAY from her face. That's YOUR job, George. Do you understand?" I act it out as I explain.

[NOTE: This is a problem that will dog me through the entire shoot. I spent too much time in legitimate theater, and I have a tendency to say UPSTAGE, or DOWNSTAGE, or STAGE RIGHT or STAGE LEFT. The poor porn actors -- whose expertise most definitely ISN'T in stagecraft -- invariably look at me with a stare of complete bewilderment. Upstage? Maybe he means we should look at the ceiling. And, having that training, I have difficulty translating BACK into plain English without taking a minute to think about it. What can you do?]

George nods gravely again.

At this point Camera-Man re-enters the room. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks me.

I've just been getting imaginary head from an invisible actress and pulling her hair back from her face. It probably DOES look pretty screwy to the casual observer. To the uninitiated observer, it must look surreal: naked man, playing with himself while I do an obscene Marcel Marceau.

We all laugh.

Emily returns. But, thereafter, when we say "Hair, George," he performs like a trouper. Emily's hair doesn't enter the shot again.

The remainder proceeds much as did the preceding, with George and Emily waiting before they change positions. Good "money" shot (impresses even Camera-Man, who sees it every day). And we're done. It has been professional and humorless. Much of the lack of humor has had to do with the language barrier. SERIOUS BUSINESS, you know.

I give Emily some paper towels to wipe off with.

"Do you want some douche?" I ask Emily.

No, she doesn't. Pard'ner's trip has been wasted.

We repeat the routine of the previous scene: I go out to the Agent's office. We write and sign receipts and I pay them in cash.

At this point, the Agent asks me if I can pay him his agency fee now. He's got a doctor's appointment in the morning. By the time we finish the next scene, they'll be gone, he explains. Sure, I say, and we do that.

When I get back into the room, Pard'ner and Camera-Man have redressed the set again, stripped off the second comforter, and we're almost ready for Red and Cassidy. I spot the rings on the floor.

"George!" I yell.

He comes in a vague hurry.

"You forgot your rings."

"Those aren't mine," he says.

I take the rings into the Agent's office. He says he'll give them to Zenza in the morning.

Still, I'm impressed. Everybody in the room had plenty of opportunity to snatch the rings -- which certainly would have brought a few bucks at the pawn shop down the street. But, to the best of my knowledge, Zenza got his rings back.

This might not seem impressive until you recognize that I wouldn't have given those rings a snowball's chance in hell on a "straight" movie shoot or a stage play. Think what you will, but they'd have more likely than not disappeared in two hours, sure as shit.

Now, the Office Manager brings me the paperwork on Couple Number Three, Red and Cassidy, who have been patiently waiting out on the couch in the reception area for a couple of hours. Makeup Lady has already gotten Cassidy made up.

Makeup Lady asks me if I'm through with her. "I need to get Krisz back home," she says.

Poor Krisz has been waiting for her ride ever since she finished her scene.

"Sure," I say. "Take Krisz home."

"Thanks," she says.

"Ten o'clock tomorrow morning," I say.

She promises that she'll be there on time.

I dash into the unoccupied office, and call my benefactor, the friend who's paid for the motel room.

"We're just getting ready to film the third scene," I tell him. It is not quite five o'clock.

"Great!" he says. "Dinner at our house at eight?"

"Absolutely," I say.

"See you then," he says.

Surreal. Shooting porn in Hollywood, and then over the Hills for a home-cooked meal in North Hollywood at 8 pm. All in all, I have to admit, it's been a weird life. I go back into the studio and inform Pard'ner.

"I sure could use a home-cooked meal after all these Denny's," he says. He's missing his wife and his kids and his house. "You think we'll be done by eight?" he asks.

"You'd BETTER be," says Camera-Man.

General laughter.

The third scene is much like the first two with minor variations.

Variation Number One:

Cassidy and Red BOTH SPEAK ENGLISH! As a FIRST language, no less!

Variation Number Two:

We are finally able to get some response to our banter, and LAUGHTER enters the studio for an extended stay.

Hart Williams wrote and worked in the "Business" from 1977 to 1987. He wrote for, among others, HUSTLER, ADAM, FILM WORLD REPORTS, VIDEO X, OUI, VELVET and many others. His film credits include "Caught From Behind III." His video credits include "The Other Side of Lianna," which was, in 1985, the runner-up to "New Wave Hookers" for XRCO's "Video of the Year." After ten years "away" from the business, Williams suddenly found himself doing what he'd sworn he'd never do again: writing, producing and directing an XXX video. c 1997 Hart Williams. All rights reserved.