Hustler’s Inferno

Hustler celebrated its 35th anniversary this weekend in a style befiting Dante’s Inferno, which begins:

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Heaven and Hell was the theme of the evening, a sprawling catered affair held in a hangar at the Santa Monica Airport. The Psalms tell us that our life’s journey is 70 years, so a heaven and hell-based 35th anniversary party was appropriate.

Know what was even more appropriate? About three dozen women dressed in nothing but wings, horns, sparkles, and just a little bit of sweat. I was greeted by the Amazonian Jayden Cole, who absorbed the impure thoughts I’d been harboring for Holly Randall, now a respectable married lady.

Being married did not keep Holly’s mother, Suze, from grabbing my balls when her daughter introduced me as Talent.

“I don’t perform porn,” I explained to the iconic photographer, “I inspire it.” Later the slightly elder Randall told me that “stone” meant 14 lbs. in England. Both mother and daughter married Brits so I consult them with all my marmite, dental, and avoirdupois weight questions.

Entering the hangar one could either choose a Heaven or a Hell side, but the open bar united everyone in a sort of pre-Vatican II purgatory that had me murmuring “amo, amas, amat” with every shot I consumed.

Earlier in the evening, the author of the feast, Larry Flynt, was taxied down the runway in his Gulfstream for his grand entrance.

“No one in the business throws a party like Larry,” said director and Hustler’s Taboo Magazine editor Ernest Greene, who arrived with Nina Hartley.

Hartley had a habit of summoning naked women to her like she was the Queen of the Fairies, even as she patiently stood in line for snacks. She made me feel like I was a dirty brain suspended in fluid; I would think about grabbing Ava Rose’s ass in handfuls, and Nina would just do it.

My mother was fond of saying that if I wanted to eat well on the road, I should go where the truckers eat. This proved to be untrue, as there are many better places to get crank than a Flying J. But I do believe that the best person to cultivate the love and affection of in the porn industry is the makeup lady, and she opens many doors.

My friend Kelly coined the expression “Live every day like it’s Shark Week.” Falling out of her dress, she guided me to the makeup area behind the hangar, where nudes frolicked and smoked on the AstroTurf.

“I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this,” said Jenna Brooks, who I think was a Heaven. The several dozen women prowling the party were on rotating bed, cage, mingle, or go-go duty and, as this was an adult industry-only event, it really did seem like a family reunion except that all your relatives had goatees or were naked.

While everyone at such an event is on the job, nudity was one indicator of who was getting paid for it. Therefore I’m not sure what category Sunny Lane fell into. She was wearing a sort of Stevie Nicks number that looked like a Heaven, but it was a lot more clothes than the other circling women were wearing. Maybe she was their leader.

Kayden Kross, though clothed, was right up there with Hartley in the number of naked women requesting photos with her.

And I also met Alexa Jordan, who was much taller in person than I thought she’d be (there are still many porn performers I’ve only known in 15″ increments), Savannah Stern, who wasn’t Stern at all, and Maria Bellucci, who lives in Budapest and stars in a lot of Private movies, but who alights on Porn Valley for three visa-regulated months a year.

Tom Byron and Dino Bravo were also there. It is unfair to mention male performers as a footnote, even though they are used to it, but I’ll point out that several women at the party were seen to giggle and squeal when they passed.

I do not think they will giggle and squeal to me – T.S. Eliot

Now that Hustler has reached the midway mark in its life’s journey and is officially a cougar, I was honored to have been invited to be your Virgil through Porn’s Inferno.

Previously on Porn Valley Observed: Open bar at the Van Halen place
See also: Hustler

About Gram the Man 4399 Articles
Gram Ponante is America's Beloved Porn Journalist

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