Page 6 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“I’ll text you.”

I wipe away as much of the mascara beneath my eyes as possible and, a few minutes later, I head back down to the lobby to wait for another Uber. While standing on the curb, I fire off a text to my roommate.

Natalie doesn’t travel as much for work as I do but tries to get something ineach quarter.

Housekeeping has come and gone. My bed is perfectly made, fresh towels on the racks in the bathroom, trash emptied. I scan the room, hoping I remembered to put away anything remotely damning.

No dildos in sight.

My phone buzzes with a text from Tony. It’s a list of restaurants he says are close to my hotel. I shoot him a response, thanking him and telling him I had a great time working with him.

My stomach rumbles angrily, reminding me that I’m absolutely famished. Sex takes a lot out of you, even when youdon’tachieve orgasm. After showering and reapplying just a touch of concealer and a thin coat of mascara, I throw on one of my walking-around dresses, along with a pair of bike shorts to avoid chub rub. I’ve got one of the restaurants on Tony’s list in mind, a Thai place he says has been around for over a decade and produces the “best motherfucking spring rolls you’ll ever put in your mouth”. Lucky for me, it’s only three blocks away.

Teeny Thai-nee is one of the most ridiculous restaurant names I’ve heard of, but the place lives up to it. The line is out the door, but I can see through the window that there are just six tables inside the busy little restaurant and every one of them is full. Most customers are taking their orders to go.

No nice, easy sit-down lunch for Sophie.

I walk at a brisk pace to get back to the cool room waiting for me. The temperature in the lobby instantly dries the sweat on my skin, turning it sticky rather than slick. I’m never traveling in August again unless it’s to a tropical beach where I can drink daiquiris in a bathing suit all day.

I yank out the two containers from the plastic bag, one containing the spring rolls and the other the pad see ew. The plastic utensils look sturdy enough for the meal, but the first thing I focus on is the container of spring rolls. They came with a brown dipping sauce that has scallions floating in it and smells delicious.

I can’t wait any longer. Taking one of the little parcels, which looks almost burnt, I dip one end in the sauce. It’s thin, soaking into the crunchy wrapper. I take the first bite and I don’t know if it’s that good or if I’m just famished, but I swear to god, it’s fuckingorgasmic. I pull my phone across the table and take a quick selfie, mouth still full, holding up the remains of the spring roll. I send the picture to Tony with a quick thank you before devouring the rest of the food.

3

Sophie

I feel more refreshed when I wake up on Wednesday, no alarm needed. The shoot today isn’t scheduled until noon. I don’t film with women often, but I do enjoy it. There’s something about the relaxing environment women create that makes me excited to get down to business.

It’s common in the industry for straight women like me to film with other women and for gay women to work with men. It’s one of the many double standards in porn and one reason I’m thankful to be an amateur, with control over who I work with and when.

The pressure just doesn’t exist for straight, cisgender men in the industry. This means they can be much more strict about the genders they work with, but that’s their mistake. Who knows what they’d discover if they just opened up a little? Literally and figuratively.

I take my rolling carry-on instead of my laptop bag today, knowing I’ll need to change clothes a couple of times, reapply makeup, and have a few toys on hand. Penny and Vera, roommates who both work in the industry, invited me to their place in Williamsburg.

I asked the concierge last night for the best way to get to my destination. She provided a few options, but my midwestern ass wants the easiest. Not wishing to chance the subway, in case I get lost or end up running late, I decide to take another Uber.

The wall by the front door to the building has a list of names next to buttons to buzz the apartment and I search for Penny and Vera’s real last names.Stinson, Youngpops out at me and I press the buzzer.

“Yeah?” comes a female voice a few seconds later.

“It’s Honey,” I reply, realizing I haven’t given either of them my real name yet. It’s not unusual for co-performers to simply call each other by our porn names.

“Come on up!”

A loud buzz fills the air and I open the door before it stops, stepping out of the heat and into an only slightly cooler lobby. It’s nice, all white and sterile. There’s a line of mailboxes along the left wall and two office doors to the right. Ahead of me is a stairwell and next to that is an elevator.

Not wanting to sweat any more than necessary, I move to the elevator and press the button. I repeat the apartment number in my head while I wait for the doors to open.

The nerves are rearing their ugly head. Head? Sure, head. Whatever, the anxiety is back. The stress monster is making its presence known. A stress monster would have a head. See? Full circle.

My thoughts are all over the place as I step onto the elevator and press the button for the fourth floor. I close my eyes and take deep breaths. I’ve spoken with both women on the phone and the conversation flowed well. They made me feel like they truly wanted to work with me. It makes sense since they were the ones who reached out to me and not the other way around, but it still feels nice.

I still can’t find it in me to do the reaching out yet, especially when the creator–or creators, in this case–has a significantly larger following than I do. I’ll follow performers on social media in the hopes they’ll follow me back and even message me. Even after four years, I don’t feel that I’ve earned the right to ask someone to work with me. Natalie tells me, and I know full well, that these thoughts are ridiculous because new performers are constantly doing that to me. Specifically men.

Men and their audacity.My anxiety momentarily lifts and I roll my eyes.

The doors open and I take a tentative first step out, looking left and right. To my right is just one apartment door. To my left are a couple more before the hall turns sharply. Seeing that the visible doors aren’t the one I’m looking for, I head toward the corner. Just as I round it, I see a woman’s head pop out from an apartment a few doors down. She looks my way, her short, pale purple hair swaying with the movement. There’s a big, beautiful smile on her face as she waves her arm wildly.

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