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Melanie's got a good frame for the Pope John Paul
(as we in the trade call the Reverse Cowgirl, or RC), light and lithe, but
with a bit of power to her. Terry's just lying there, that fine piece of wood
he packs enclosed by Melanie who's going up and down on it. Her hands grip
her waist as he alters the pace and digs a bit more and she starts scowling.
— That's the game, Terry, earn your corn. Fuck her! Mel, try to keep
your eyes on the camera. Keep looking at the camera. Fuck Terry, but love
the lens. Terry's just the fucking prop, just an appendage to your pleasure.
You're the star baby, you're the star . . . Nikki's reached behind and wrapped
a hand around my shaft, — . . . and you're beautiful, this is your show
. . .
I push Nikki away gently, then, standing up and taking
her by the hand, I shout: — Cut! Then I explain to Nikki: — I want
you in there, down on Terry's cock. Terry, you're doing great. Now you lick
out Mel while Nikki sucks you off.
— Bit ah want tae fuckin come! he moans as Ursula approaches him with
towels and he pulls a face before heading to the toilets for a clean-up. —
C'mon, Tel, I shout at him — don't be so fucking ungrateful. I said you're
licking out Mel while Nikki's sucking you off. Aye, it's a hard life right
enough.
We get that shot sorted out. Nikki's going down on
Terry's knob makes me feel strangely weird, especially as she seems to be
loving it. I'm relieved when it's over and we knock off for lunch, or at least
the rest do. Rab and I go over what we've filmed on the monitor. I have to
mobby the others because they're just sitting in the fucking pub. Nikki seems
to have been drinking, probably needs it for Dutch courage. It's strange but
I'm starting to feel that uncomfortable, proprietarial way about her. I'm
not happy at the thought of her being done by Lawson on camera. And there's
a lot worse to come.
Gina's still whingeing at me. — Me n Ursula
n Ronnie n Craig huvnae done nowt yet.
— We introduce each person one at a time, building
up to the climax, I tell again. — Patience! I get Terry and Mel back
pumping away. — Try it in her arse now, Terry, I say, — c'mon, Lawson,
let's see some anal action . . .
My motivating powers aren't really needed here; it's
like encouraging Dracula to go for the jugular. Terry pulls Mel from him,
lays her out and bends her legs right back over her shoulders. He spits ferociously,
working the gob into her arsehole and then edges in slowly. I nod to Nikki
and we each take one of Mel's buttocks and we're pulling them apart as Terry
pushes in. I've instructed Rab to attend to the position of the cameras so
we've done one close up on the arse action and one on Mel's face so we can
cut between them in the edit.
Melanie's grinding her teeth and grimacing (a required
shot for the misogynistic power merchants who 'want to see the bitch suffer')
but as she goes into it, and starts finding the space to accommodate him,
goes off in that dreamy way (required shot for the lazy transgressive romantic
yuppette who's had a hard day at the office and just wants to lie back and
enjoy a relaxing butt-fuck). It's so important that the expressions cover
all emotional bases. That's what porn is essentially, a social and emotional
process. Anybody can do genital interaction . . . Nikki kisses me hard on
the lips and she's going down on my cock, and I can see Rab standing by the
bar and Gina still looking at him and then looking annoyed and Craig's sucking
on Wanda's nipples and I'm thinking that none of them will control me, ever
. . . then I realize that there's something missing. — Cut! I shout,
as Nikki starts to suck my cock.
— What? Terry's still pumping away. — You're
fuckin joking!
Nikki takes my dick out of her mouth and looks up
at me.
— Naw, Terry, naw, c'mon. We need tae dae this
in the cowgirl position. RAC, Reverse Anal Cowgirl.
— Fuck . . . he says, but he's pulling oot.
Nikki looks at Terry, then at Mel. — How was
that? She asks.
Mel seems happy enough. — It's sair at first,
but then ye git intae it. Terry's really good, he always pits it straight
in. Some ladies dinnae ken how tae dae it, they batter the bit ay skin, the
perineum, and make it really sair and tender. Terry kens how tae pit it straight
in, she says.
Terry shrugs proudly. — Experience, that's aw.
Nikki now seems in a businesslike mode though, taking
my lead and shedding the horn, anxious to move on. — Listen, Mel, Nikki
says, — you know what I found really beautiful, what really turned me
on? It was when Terry spat on your arse? And like worked it in? Could I do
that for you?
— Aye, if ye like, Mel smiles.
Terry's not bothered, but I'm elated. Yes, Nikki's
the star here. The lassie has quality.
But right now it's back to the coaching as I remind
Terry that it's a team game and we need to keep our discipline and our shape.
— Mind, Terry, don't shoot your duff up Mel. It's go to be a withdrawal,
then a wank off and a cup over her face. Remember the narrative of pornography,
our sequential journey: blow jobs, frigging, licking oot, fucking, different
positions, anal, double penetration and finally, the cum shot. Remember that
old training-ground routine.
Terry looks a bit doubtful at all of this. —
Ah'm no intae shaggin a burd without blawin ma muck in her.
— Remember, Terry, this is not sex. This is
acting, this is performance. It doesnae matter whether you're enjoying it
or not . . .
— Course ah'm enjoyin it, it's the spice ay
life, he says.
— . . . 'cause you and me, we're just cocks.
That's all we are. The lassies rule.
In the background I've got Ronnie and Ursula going
though a routine and Craig's fucking Wanda, who's lying there like a corpse.
They're just wallpaper as I'm setting up the main action to the fore.
— Ah'm ready, Terry says, finding wood, as Rab
looks inscrutably on. That cunt Grant is holding things up with the light.
— ACTION!
So we're rolling as Nikki gobs hard on Melanie's
arsehole and works it in. Gina sucks Terry's knob and Mel, crablike above,
is ready to lower herself onto it. Then just as she descends, the door goes
and big Morag comes in. — Simon . . . oh . . . she gulps, her eyes popping
out her heid, — it's . . . eh . . . the man fae the Sunday Mail's
here. They've a photographer . . . she turns on her heels and heads out, slamming
the door.
Sunday fuckin Mail . . . photographer
. . . what the
Then I hear a terrible scream behind me. I turn to
see that Mel's slipped, with her full weight falling on top of Terry.
— AAGGHHH! YA CAHHNNTTT! He wails in agony.
Melanie's up and she's saying: — Aw, Terry,
ah'm really sorry, the door went n ah goat a fright n ah slipped . . .
It's Terry's cock; it looks like he's ruptured the
fucker. It's crumpled, it's black and blue and red. He's screaming, and Nikki's
phoning an ambulance on her mobby and I'm thinking, the fucking Sunday
Mail . . . what the fuck are we going to do if his cock's knackered? He's
my fucking leading man . . .
Excerpted from
Porno, published this month by W.W. Norton
& Co. Reprinted by permission.
To buy this book, click
here.
To read the Nerve interview with Porno author Irvine Welsh, click
here.
© 2002 Michael
Martin and Nerve.com.
Photograph from Sylvia Plachy's gallery Blue
Danube.
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