by Shy Skyler
Today I begin my new job as a porn star. I’m hoping that being an introvert won’t prevent me from succeeding. At the very least, it can’t be worse than my last job as a court jester at a Saudi Arabian Renaissance Faire.
8:00 A.M. – I arrive on time and am very nervous. The room is full of naked strangers. I hang out by the donuts and a crate of condoms, hoping no one will notice me. Finally, a woman with a tattoo on her buttock, pierced nipples and horse blinders approaches me. She introduces herself: “Hi, I’m Betty the company accountant.” I’m nervous at first, but she’s very friendly and intuitive. We have an interesting conversation about tax shelters and multiple orgasms caused by excessive trampoline play.
9:15 A.M. – I meet my co-star for the morning. Her name is Ina “In My Face” Carona, and she’s immediately in my face with insipid questions like, “How long is your penis?” and “Would you like to have a threesome with a UPS man?” Just once I’d like to meet someone who enjoys talking about more meaningful things like Zen and the art of anonymous restroom sex.
9:45 A.M. – During our first scene, the director keeps telling me to grunt and groan more. Small and insignificant moaning has never been easy for me, so I start panting T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land.” After eight minutes, they assume I’m having a seizure and call 911.
10:15 A.M. – During a scenario in which I’m servicing a naughty nurse and a transgender pizza delivery person, a mixed-race dominatrix keeps asking me, “Why are you so quiet?” Finally, I can’t take it any longer and scream, “Because I’m an introverted cabana boy, dammit!” I thought I ruined the scene, but the director yelled, “That’s great! Use it!”
10:45 A.M. – They want me to join in a group sex scene. At his point, I’m totally exhausted by all this human interaction. I’d like nothing more than to go home and have sex with myself, but I have no choice. The orgy starts. I’m sitting by myself on a couch reading a magazine. The next thing I know, I’m body surfing over two sets of chubby twins. I must admit, I’m enjoying it, but after coming up for air the third time I’m ready to go home. I pretend to pull a hamstring while servicing the hostess on a chandelier, then slip out the back door and drive back to my apartment.
11:37 A.M. – Back home at last! I close the front door, fall into my large, comfortable reading chair and decompress. Nicole, my cat strolls across the room without showing the slightest inclination she wants to be stroked. She really gets me.