Wednesday, March 07, 2007
A Cleaner Lifestyle
Women in the adult industry periodically get burnt out on doing some of the work. Most productions with which one becomes involved rarely last for more than a single day. To make a living one finds herself commuting daily to various locations, interacting with a myriad of unfamiliar character on each set, and doing a huge volume of laundry each week. Directors usually do not supply the wardrobe so the actresses bring their own. Last year I got fed up with the driving, the handwashing of lingerie and the personalities of many of those people with whom I was working. I called up my friend Kayla Quinn so she could talk me out of my funk. She didn't.
"You know," Kayla had sighed. "I just need a break from all this too."
I didn't say anything. Nothing but silence emanated from Kayla's end of the line for almost a minute. I felt anxiety begin to well up inside my gut. Kayla normally cheered me up whenever I lost my motivation. On this night her obviously dejected demeanor really bothered me since I felt demoralized already.
"Kayla." I said
She did not answer.
"Kayla?" I asked the dead air.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm here." she responded at last.
"What are we going to do?" I queried in what I hoped was a calm, practical tone of voice. "I mean.. it's not like we can just stop working."
"Yep, I know." she said flatly.
"Well, fuck." I sighed. "Do you feel like dancing?"
"No, I don't feel like dancing." Kayla shot back at me with some vehemence. "I would just like to go a few months without taking my clothes off in a room full of strangers."
In all honesty I felt the same way. Kayla and I agreed to meet for a few drinks and figure out a game plan. An hour later we hooked up at Hank's Bar to kick around ideas. Kayla had brought an LA Weekly newspaper with her. After two drinks she pulled it out and showed me a help wanted ad for a company that supplied "sexy maids" to clean in private homes around Los Angeles.
"No nudity. No dating clientele. $25 an hour." the ad proclaimed.
Kayla and I decided to go for it. Why not? If a customer got out of line we would shove a mop up his asshole. The next day we applied for the jobs and the crusty old dude who owned the company, Lionel, hired us on the spot. He handed us our "uniforms" and told us he'd have a gig for us on the following afternoon. Kayla and I went home and tried on the uniforms. We agreed that we would hang on to them after our stint as housecleaners had ended. The outfits actually fit us really well and looked pretty cute - just perfect for a strip club stage. Lionel called as we were arguing over who got which outfit.
"Gotcha girls a small gig tomorrow near Encino." he informed us over the speakerphone. "This guy's a regular. Treat him right. He's got a small place but he likes to tip the girls good. He won't expect nothing dirty from ya so don't worry. A few of the other girls mentioned that he has some good reefer too."
"Reefer"? Kayla and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes in unison. Neither of us had heard anyone use that term in a long time. Lionel rattled off an address to us that sounded vaguely familiar. I'd been driving to so many porn shoot locations recently that every address sounded familiar. The next day Kayla and I debated about whether we should wear our sexy maid outfits to the job or just change into them when we got there. We decided to show up wearing long coats over the uniforms. After dressing with care Kayla looked at the address and said she knew roughly where it was. We headed out the door for our first day on the new job.
It took us only 20 minutes to locate the correct street. I slowed the car down so we could figure out which building corresponded with the address Lionel had given us. We spotted it and then we both froze. Kayla spoke first:
"This is cameraman Mike Raffone's building, isn't it?" she said slowly.
"Um, yeah." I said.
"What if he sees us?" she demanded. "He'll tell everyone in the industry."
"Fuck." I responded. "I don't think he'll see us. If he does we will just tell him we're going to a shoot or doing a Strip-O-Gram or something. This is our first day on the job for Lionel. We can't screw this up because he will fire us."
Kayla sighed but said nothing as I parked the car.
We alighted from the vehicle and pulled our overcoats around ourselves as we trudged toward the building. Kayla was ducking her head beneath her frilly little French maid's cap.
"Oh, don't worry. You blend right in with the neighborhood." I told her sarcastically.
At the security gate I punched in the code we had been given and a loud buzzing noise indicated that the occupant was ringing us in from his end. We proceeded forward.
"What's the apartment number?" Kayla asked me.
I fumbled with the slip of paper in my hand and tried to decipher my writing. A loud voice interrupted my scrutiny.
"Hey, are you girls the maids? You girls are the maids, right?" a man's voice with a thick East Coast accent called out to us.
I resisted the urge to run back down the cement walkway and I saw Kayla put her hand over her face.
"Hey, you the maids! I'm Mike. Lionel sent you, right?" the man continued exuberantly.
Of course the man was none other than cameraman Mike Raffone himself. He approached us. I looked`away but made no attempt to cover my face. Through the corner of my right eye I saw Mike Raffone stop dead in his tracks. His expression registered disbelief. A brief silence encompassed us all. The chirping of a bird brought me back to reality. I turned to face Mike, to face the inevitable. His eyes had grown as big as silver dollars behind his horn-rmmed glasses.
"Tanya Danielle and Kayla Quinn!" he practically shouted. "You the maids? You girls are the maids?!"
Neither Kayla nor I spoke a word. I knew that Mike could die happy now. Unfortunately he did not look like he was going to die. He looked like he ruled the universe.
"This could be a 'True Hollywood Story' on the E Channel!" Mike guffawed. "They could call it 'A Cleaner Lifestyle: How Two Girls Dreamed of Porn Stardom and Ended Up as Janitors'. The only problem is that you girls were never famous to begin with. Still, it's a tremendous story. Tremendous."
Mike practically waltzed up the stairs that lead to his apartment and waved us inside like we were long-lost relatives. We followed him meekly. Kayla's frilly cap had nearly swallowed up her entire head. I began reminding myself that there is no shame in honest labor and my anger stoked my determination to clean Mike's apartment with a vengeance. I would make Lionel proud.
"I better be able to shine a forensic black light all over this place and not see a single speck of semen when you girls are done!" Mike called out with a joyous cackle.
That comment pushed Kayla over the edge. She tried to hold me accountable for this miserable turn of events. Of course Mike had a camera handy..
Join www.TanyaDanielle.com now to see who triumphed in this battle of angry, disillusioned maids!
- XXOO Tanya
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