[On the cover: Tristan with one of her favorite porn stars, Chloe. More pics on Tristan's site, www.PuckerUp.com]

Tristan Taormino is the author of several sensationally sexy and informative books including Down and Dirty Sex Secrets, Pucker Up: A Hands-on Guide to Ecstatic Sex, The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women. From college campuses to sex toy boutiques she tours the country touting the wonders of anal sex and the overall goodness of sex in all its frisky forms.
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One of the most fascinating things about porn shoots is how utterly un-sexy they can be. It seems like a contradiction: you’ve got attractive performers having sex with each other, how could that be mundane or boring? The reality is that most porn sets are exactly like “regular” movie sets: lots of heavy equipment being schlepped back and forth by geeky guys and too much waiting around. The novelty of naked people doing the nasty doesn’t even faze the dudes who are inches away manning light stands and microphone booms–they’ve seen it before. For everyone from the director to the makeup artist to the production assistant, and even the performers themselves, creating a porn flick is their job. So, while the finished product may make the process look like it’s a fun, passionate, raunchy good time, for everyone involved, it is another day at work. And, like any other chosen vocation, some people like what they do for a living more than others.

I’m sitting in the corner of a tiny bedroom of a quaint Los Angeles house staring at a huge empty bed. The bed, which sits in a tasteful wooden frame, isn’t any bigger than a standard king size, but the room is so small that it seems larger than it is. Turquoise sheets peak out from under an ugly gray comforter, and a white stuffed polar bear with a gigantic bow around its neck sits against a pillow. Men walk in and out of the room with various lights, cords, and camera equipment, running into one another repeatedly because of the cramped space. The bed dominates the room and my vision; it is the focal point of everything, which seems to make perfect sense since I’m on the set of a porn movie.

A voice from downstairs yells, “Talent on set!”

Savannah Samson is Vivid Video’s newest contract girl, and the movie that’s shooting, Windows, will be her full length feature debut. She’s all blonde and boobs, the quintessential girl-next-door porn star, wearing a pink shear lace-topped bra and matching boy-cut panties. She climbs into bed with Dale Dabone, a well-built seasoned star whose white cotton boxer briefs nicely frame his package. Award-winning director Paul Thomas (whom the crew calls “P.T.”) and his director of photography (a man who introduces himself with the name which will appear in the film credits---Jane Waters) chat about the script.

P.T. asks Savannah and Dale to rehearse (yes, they actually rehearse!) their dialogue. Dale reads his line, a long clunky sentence that includes the word ‘mechanism.’

“Who’d use a word like ‘mechanism’ while he’s in bed talking about sex with his wife?” Dale inquires.

“He’s saying that mechanically sex is simple, but we make it really complicated,” responds P.T., who illuminates for several minutes on the meaning of the one line, then tells Dale to cut it. Savannah looks like she’s making a grocery list in her head. The camera rolls, they repeat their lines, but P.T. isn’t happy.

“There’s no one in the room but the two of you–we’re not here!” P.T. emphasizes. (Sure, I think, get intimate: just ignore the director, the camera guy, the sound and lighting guys, the production manager, the still photographer, and the two Playgirl people trying desperately to stay out of the way!).

They run it again, then Savannah mounts Dale just as a light comes loose from a stand and crashes to the bed. They both jump slightly, then laugh. I’ve been in the tiny room for an hour, and haven’t even seen any flesh let alone any sex. Once they get the scene right, P.T. announces, “We’re going to do sex next.” Dale and Savannah both looked surprised.

“I was under the impression that was happening Tuesday,” says Dale, “I like to take all my vitamin supplements so I can be as strong as possible. I didn’t take them, but I can do it.” I am assuming he means vitamin V, Viagra, which most male performers use to enhance their, um, working parts. How can I be on the set of a porn flick without any Viagra in sight? It’s like being in a bathroom without toilet paper. “Can I at least take a shower first?” Dale asks, obviously nervous.

“Sure,” says P.T.

“How long is the break between the sex up here and the sex downstairs when you want me to come?”

“Long,” P.T. counters, “It’s good for you. Let the sperm come into your body. It’s tantra.” Easy for him to say, I think. This is why I both admire and feel bad for the men of porn---they cannot fake it. After Dale takes a shower and Savannah gets her makeup touched up, we’re all back in the small room. Dale strokes himself, then Savannah starts to blow him. The director wants to start with the sex, no warm up, and so Dale needs to be ready. I’m not sure how either one of them can concentrate as two crew members drill light clamps into the window frames on either side of them. A camera sits on the bed (again, there’s no where else to put it), and someone cautions, “Don’t kick that, it’s worth $150,000!” Exactly what I’d like to hear while I am trying to suck some guy’s dick.

Savannah seems unfazed by the chaos around her, and so does Dale, who’s dick is rock hard and ready. Unfortunately, the crew is not. “You’re wasting good wood!” giggles Savannah. After a wait, the cameras are rolling and the two are going at it.

One second into the start of the fucking, and P.T. yells, “I need a C light!” A crewmember darts in to get as close to the action without being in the scene in order to illuminates the ol’ in-and-out. Once the C-guy is in, we’re over capacity, and P.T. tells me to get out. But he doesn’t want to stop the scene, so I have to crawl on my hands and knees, with my notebook and pen in my mouth, underneath the microphone boom and around a light stand until I am safely in the hallway.

There the couple who owns the house appear on the stairs. The husband walks back downstairs, but the wife, who wears a diamond cross around her neck, lingers, obviously curious about what’s going on. This is the second porn set I have visited where the owners are around to watch---is that part of the incentive to rent your house, so you can watch other people have sex in your bed? I sit with her and crew members in the hallway, where I can see just a slice of what’s going on in the bed. I sit back and listen to the sounds of fucking. Dale gets into a rhythm, then the director calls “Cut!” again because the camera angle isn’t quite right. I get a chance to sneak back into the room for a moment, and see that Dale is still inside Savannah. They are making small talk, in between Dale’s thrusts to keep his dick hard, while the men around them argue about whether the scene is number 21 or 27A.

I ask Savannah what she thinks of her first full length movie experience.

“I like working with Dale,” she says, and he thrusts into her again.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask. (I was thinking I’d get them some water or something).

“Yeah,” says Dale, as she grabs the back of my head as if to pull me into their scene. After calling the production manager and consulting a scene list, things are back on track, and I am back in the hallway.

They start fucking again, literally picking up where they left off (continuity!), and pretty soon both of them start breathing more heavily, the wooden bed starts squeaking, and Savannah starts moaning like she’s going to come. Sure enough, “I’m going to come,” she says, her voice is breathy and barely audible. She groans, then starts with little yells, and speeds up as she rides Dale’s cock. But before she can finish her orgasm, come down from it and take a deep breath, P.T. barks: “Dale, can you get behind her now, spoon her, and fuck her in the ass?”

True professionals, they change positions without missing a beat (Savannah’s far more generous than I would be if someone didn’t let me revel in orgasmic bliss for a least a minute). They start to spoon facing each other, and Dale lifts one of Savannah’s legs up. She’s quieter when he fucks her in the ass. The director of photography is standing on the bed in order to get the shot, he’s hovering right over them as Dale rocks back and forth with his dick in her ass.

P.T.: “Are you ready to come? Can you pull out and come like that?”
“No,” says Dale.
“How do you want to come?”
“Can I come in her mouth?”
“Don’t ask me…”
“Sure,” Savannah chimes in.

Dale gets up to pee before he comes, Savannah asks for a cup of water. She spies the husband half of the owner couple who has reappeared on the stairs.

“Is this your bed?” she asks him, and he’s caught off guard (as most people would be if that sentence came from the mouth of a gorgeous naked woman you’d never met before). “Yes,” he laughs nervously.

P.T. interrupts the exchange to ask Dale, “Can she suck your dick until the pop? Better yet, can she lie down and you fuck her mouth? Can you come that way?”
“I don’t know,” Dale.
“Try it.”

I’ve been on the set for over three hours, and yet I’ve witnessed only about 15 minutes of sex, so I am sad when I feel the end, and the money shot, are close at hand. As Dale starts coming, the stuffed bear dives off the bed, a cord somehow gets tripped, a light goes off, and P.T. yells, “Goddamn,” then reaches over to plug it back in himself. Dale’s already shooting his load, and can’t stop for the snafu. I’m amazed at what troopers Dale and Savannah have been, considering they didn’t even know they were doing a sex scene when they arrived; they managed to get over their anxieties and give a strong performance, just like the pros they are, even if it seemed that all those around them were full of chaos, confusion, and anger. The stars were the sanest of the bunch by far.

“We’re gonna do the come again. Dale, just build back up to the come, okay?” Now, the acting really begins. I am reminded of P.T.’s explanation of Dale’s former line, now crossed out in the script which sits in the director’s back pocket: “He’s saying that mechanically sex is simple, but we make it really complicated.” Sex does seem a lot more complicated when it’s for a film, and the moviemaking itself overshadows everything else. It’s not so different from the set of a Hollywood movie: an hour to set up a shot, lots of directors and producers arguing, with the talent standing by for their 15 minutes. Sure, the 15 minutes for Savannah and Dale are more intense and penetrating than a scene from Dude, Where’s My Car? But, in the end, they have to perform on cue, and learning their lines is the least of their worries. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.

Visit Tristan at www.PuckerUp.com.