Jenny Swallows: June 2013

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In London in the 1960s, pornography was a man’s world.

It was viewed by men, written by men, directed by men and filmed by men. If they hadn’t needed actresses to play a part on camera, it would probably have been made by men as well.

And then a woman came along, and changed that world completely.

This is her story.

The mid-1960s were the golden age of truly underground erotic film making, the last grand flowering of the trade before the progressive liberalization of the arts, the advent of new forms of technology (beginning with the VHS tape), and the mercurial success of the movie Deep Throat transformed a once deeply secretive and self-involved industry into… indeed, a mainstream industry.

Tonight at 8 returns us to those halcyon days; to a gray and overcast landscape of dirty raincoats and secretive doormen, of darkened club rooms and menacing mobsters; and a square mile of seedy businessmen for whom sex films were made for fun as much as finance – at least by the people on either side of the camera.

It is the semi-fictional, but wholly truthful autobiography of one of the era’s most prolific film-makers – a XXX novella that could double as a confessional text book, but which pulls no punches in either direction.

EXCERPT

Girls... want to know the details before they’ll take the leap.

You begin by telling them who the films are being made for. Men. Then you tell them what men are like when it comes to sex. Stupid. You explain how there’s a certain sequence of acts that they all expect to see. They want to see you kiss. They want to see him sucking your titties. They want to see him licking your fanny. They want to see you sucking his cock, and they want to see you fuck. Then, at the end, they want to see him pull out of your body and spunk up somewhere else.

“Where?”

“On your titties if you’d prefer. On your face if you’ll let him. In your mouth if you want him to. And that’s the important thing. It’s what you want that matters. Not him, not the actor. Once the camera starts rolling, unless I call out something else, you’re in total command. And even if I do call out, it’ll be something that you and I have already talked about.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“As a film maker? Definitely on the face, preferably in the mouth.” I told her my thoughts on the grace and beauty; how even the most gorgeous woman in the world becomes even lovelier with a cock in her mouth, and how the moment of his orgasm, if she handles it without screaming or spluttering, is quite possibly the loveliest, sexiest, sight on earth.

“Who would I do it with, Kevin or Nick?”

“Okay, this is where you can say no if you want. It’d be Kevin and Nick. And, as it’s your first time, I’ll pay you seventy five.”

Now you know why Tina came to work with me the next day. She wasn’t going to let me out of her sight.

Kevin and Nick were bang on time, and they didn’t look at all surprised to see Tina waiting with me.

I explained the set up I’d devised, which was basically exactly what had happened last night when they met her. We’d go to the park, there’d be a long shot of Tina walking down the bridle path alone, then she’d sit on the bench with her face in her hands. Kevin and Nick would approach from the other direction, stop and talk with her for a moment, ask if they can help, and bring her to the flat. Kevin would produce an A-Z (I’d bought one myself on my lunch break), Nick would make some tea. Then, while Tina leafed through the pages, Kevin would stand behind her, reading over her shoulder, and…

I hadn’t told Tina this part, because I needed her to seem genuinely surprised, which is a lot harder on silent film than you might think. Of course she was expecting something, but I think… because that is how I explained things to her… I think she was expecting Kevin to at least caress her shoulders, maybe bend down to kiss her. Something like that, anyway.

Instead, standing behind her while she studied the map, he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his cock, and while Nick tried his best to stifle a giggle, pretended to be fucking her ear.

Tina saw the movement, turned around – and her reaction was better than I even dreamed. With a shriek of laughter, she fell back on the bed, the book for a moment laid across her face. Then she sat back up and with only a quick sideways glance towards me, she took hold of his prick and her mouth closed around it.

I hadn’t really asked her about her past sexual experiences, partly because it was up to her if she wanted to tell me, but also because I don’t necessarily believe that they’re relevant to our work. Obviously you don’t want an actor to completely fall apart when confronted with something they’ve not done before, but at the same time, the emotional and physical responses that you call on when you’re having sex with, shall we say a partner, a lover, a friend, are very different to those you call upon if you’re using your body to make a film.

Not everybody understands that, of course, which is why not everybody could be a blue movie star, and why most men should not even consider it. And I don’t agree, either, with those women who can casually shrug and say they’re not having sex when they’ve still got the spunk leaking out of their fanny. But somewhere in between the two extremes – over-involvement and over-detachment, there is a Happy Land where blue films can be made.

Tina was in that Happy Land. I closed in and her eyes met the lens for a moment, gleaming with pleasure as Kevin’s dick slid in and out. I moved the camera away from my face and mimed gnashing my teeth together; she took Kevin’s cock gently out of her mouth, then closed her teeth on the shaft, gnawing up and down as though it were an ear of corn.

Nick leaned in and said something; I didn’t hear it, but Tina laughed around her mouthful and feigned an elbow to his ribs. It was wonderful to watch them; Nick and Kevin had a chemistry that I knew I could rely upon, but Tina slipped in to their world of private fun and games as though she’d known them all her life.