One of the positive side effects of having somehow broken two expensive still cameras in the past year is that I’m shooting a lot more video. You seem to like this. But today I found that Stoya was behind my camera deciding it just couldn’t possibly get any better and killing itself.
I hadn’t seen Stoya in a long time. Too long. So there we were, at an intimate dinner in the city of Las Vegas, in the same room where once before she had stolen my camera to take a picture of her own vulva, and I squeezed off a couple of shots on the Canon D20 I was using.
“I put that camera up my dress last time,” Stoya observed.
“That camera broke,” I said, getting ready to take some flash photos. “But you’re dressed more conservatively today.”
The flash didn’t work. Only the light shining through Stoya’s nearly translucent skin served to light the frame at all.
“Goddamn camera!” I said, anticipating an entire convention where I would be reduced to holding up a tiny Flip camera like every other asshole in Clark County.
“Let’s drink,” said Stoya, and we proceeded to have a lovely dinner.
I never saw her again.
Today I popped the card from the flashless camera and downloaded the few pictures it held, and there I saw Stoya. I hadn’t seen that she was wearing no bra that night. Why? Because I am a gentleman. Either that or it’s some kind of weird Shroud of Turin thing wherein her nipples show up later.
But the joke’s on her. One day, while she is thumbing through her Necronomicon, she will find that I have replaced all the words with closeup shots of my frenulum.
Previously on Porn Valley Observed: A Bree grows in Stoya: Two porn industry responses to the recession
See also: Stoya
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