While it’s always difficult getting into latex pants, money opens all pants.
On the set of Bluebird’s “Katwoman,” I had an epiphany about Charlie Sheen.
Any dominatrix will tell you that it takes a lot of powders and unguents, lubes and jellies to get into her PVC getup, which is why (along with the simple fact that she is a dominatrix and doesn’t swing that way) you will rarely see a dominatrix being penetrated on screen; she would need to get out of that outfit and, once she’s out, all that tightly compressed flesh will burst forth in a lava flow of clotted sweat.
“Fetish gear makes boobs look great,” dominatrix Julie Simone once told me, to which I replied “Yes.”
“It would take me 45 minutes to get out of this thing,” says Dylan Ryder on the set of “Katwoman,” in which she places the title role. “And you wouldn’t want to see that.”
(Sorry, but I kind of would, I think, and I’m not a submissive so you can’t tell me what to do, but I get your point.)
Bluebird’s millionaire playboy owner, Paul Chaplin, plays the Jo-kerr, and fellow Brit “Lady” Gemma Massey plays his henchwoman, the Jokerette. As you’ll see from the video below, it is a sweet gig. I need to cast myself in my own movies more.
This made me think of some of the odd porn world criticism of Charlie Sheen.
“He pays millions of dollars to buy the women I’m paid to fuck,” tweeted (and I’m paraphrasing) a male performer recently.
Responding to this type of attack, Sheen says (and I’m paraphrasing), “I already blew my money on everything else. Why not pay for porn stars, too?”
The “I get paid for this but you have to pay for it” rant is common among a few male performers I have known, and it has always struck me as a kind of deflection of shame and self-hatred. If you hate the type of people who pay to watch sex or pay to have it, what must you feel about how you make a living?
There’s also a recess yard type of boasting involved here, in which the male performer feels the need to reassert that he is good-looking enough to perform in porn films.
Chaplin is a quiet man off camera, but he rushes back and forth giving directions to the cast and camera crew, which causes director Nicholas Steele to (jokingly?) ban Chaplin from set.
Steele is a veteran porn director and is unsurprised by most things.
“The rest of the world has no idea of the shit we put up with,” he says.
All through the shoot, I wonder how Katwoman is going to be serviced, but then she shows me an ingenious access point, made by slicing open the crotch of her $350 latex pants.
“Did you do that yourself?” I ask.
“No,” she says, and I think that I’d have a hard time doing that, too, because I’d be thinking how much the pants cost.
Of course, no one on the Bluebird set had anything but nice things to say about their fans, and/or people who pay for sex.