It is only with trust that I achieve the supreme level of access that I, as America’s Beloved Porn Journalist. do. That is why British birds Ava DaLush and Samantha Bentley invited me to document their topless primping.
It was during Adult Entertainment Expo week when I found myself wandering, lonely as a cloud, through the MGM Signature in Las Vegas. The Signature is one of those properties originally developed as condos but which fell on hard times and found work as a hotel. Problem is, it’s not connected to anything, which is great for a condo complex full of residents who don’t want drunken conventioneers wandering through their shared spaces, but awful for a hotel. The Hard Rock Hotel down the street was where everything was happening, and the Signature was for those people who either booked late or were from England, which two of can fit on Fremont Street alone. The Brits think everything is within walking distance or at least within the range of reliable public transportation. Fools!
Anyway, I was walking the Kubrickian halls of the Signature when I heard Ava DaLush and Samantha Bentley wailing like Delbert Grady’s daughters.
“Please photograph us getting dressed, Grams,” they said. “Somehow when you’re in the room we feel so much more alive.”
“All right,” I said.
At first, Ava lounged on the bed.
“You’ll need to get up,” I said. “You can’t go out like that. This isn’t Topless Darts And A Snog in Newcastle. In Vegas women only get topless for a $25 cover charge and a 2-drink minimum.”
“But I want to give, Grams,” she pleaded.
“So does Yusuf Islam,” I said, “But you don’t see Cat Stevens without his shirt on. That morning has broken.”
Once in the bathroom, Samantha bent over to examine her lipstick in the mirror, her short skirt riding up over her thong. She lamented the many wristbands she had to wear for various convention events.
“Now people will know I’m an adult actress,” she said.
Eventually DaLush and Bentley forgot I was there and began to primp in earnest. They confirmed what we already knew: that women jiggle their breasts in the mirror when they think no one is watching. Knowing they’d be all right, I crept out of the room, confident my job was done. But then they called me back, naked and glistening.
“Please stay, Grams,” they said.
“When you want me but don’t need me, it’s time to go,” I said.
*Very little of this dialogue actually happened. In fact, it’s all taken from “RoboCop.”