Now you’ve seen how I live. A Costco meat plate perched atop an upended U-Haul box, some napkins left over from Jack in the Box (I’m a saver), a nice tarp pulled over my head…that’s simple living the way God intended.
Meanwhile here I was—here I always was—at these ostentatious houses with fountains and statues, the architectural equivalent of the Chinese tattoo its bearer didn’t understand the meaning of. And walking down the stairs was Teagan Presley on high heels and an outfit that, despite not covering too much, would take a considerable time to come off.
Moments before Teagan was talking on her phone (this was 2008, so she was actually talking on her phone) while in makeup. She was wearing sweatpants and her shoes were off. Her hair was all over the place. I knew she wouldn’t be into my taking her picture, so I didn’t ask, but she was beautiful.
Clacking down the marble stairs or inserting a dildo on some elegant but rickety-looking chair, well, she looked all right. But it was someone else’s fantasy, not mine.
I mentioned as much to Holly Randall, who was directing the photo shoot that day. “Is this what the public wants?” I asked. “Because she was eating a Carl’s Jr. burger real sexy earlier.”
Randall said that I had a niche mentality.
Previously on Porn Valley Observed: Moxie-ridden devil Roxy makes Teagan, dandling Randall, her collie