How many times has Autumn Falls walked into a room to find an erection waiting there? Maybe 10,000 times?
Autumn Falls is a lithe and spongiform puertorriqueña who has shown up at (your) house to ineffectively dust your junk in “My Dirty Maid 11.” It is a POV movie in which your stand-in, a dude (well, of course it’s a dude, but it’s important to specify these days) pays the maid increasing amounts of cash to clean while she is stripping to fewer and fewer things because, she reasons, she wants to buy an $8,000 purse.
How much do maids even make?
To look at Falls, to hear her speak, to experience her Vargas-like juiciness is to wonder why she adopted such an upstate New York nom-de-porn. Why didn’t she call herself something like Hurricane Rita? Because she’s like a weather event with a vulv.
It’s true that I haven’t watched the 10 other entries in the “My Dirty Maid” series. It is also true that I have not even watched the three other scenes in this movie. The only reason I watched this movie at all is because of Falls’ naked expression of disgust on the cover, as if to say either, “You know, it’s part of the social contract to at least clean a little before you bring the maid over, but you have not,” or “I can’t believe you have tricked me into being naked yet again. Why does this keep happening to me?”
But the cover lies. In other words, the reason that I watched the movie is a lie. Falls arrives with her tray of cleaning jellies and solvents, addresses the camera without commenting on why it’s there, and proceeds to do a lackluster and uncomprehensive job* dusting random surfaces and answering personal questions like —with no protests of her privacy—until (you) basically can’t help yourself. You start dispensing cash like you’re a 7-11 ATM, heedless of the charge.
*I’d say her job is half-assed, but you know why that would paint an unclear picture.
Finally, an unclothed-but-for-comfortable shoes Falls makes her way to a room in which your erection is downstage center. Either this isn’t the first (or 100th) room featuring this particular piece of furniture the now-19-year-old Falls has strolled into, or she simply needs the work and purse too badly to betray a reaction.
Either way, this movie, representing the first of the thousands I looked at in my recent adult re-immersion as part of the mysterious AVN Awards nominating team, reminded me that sometimes, in the presence of such ballooniness as Falls represents, men and women forget that their houses were clean already and just do crazy things.