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Brittany Andrews Photo Shoot
Brittany Andrews is a blast! I'd seen her in a few porn
videos, more or less blending in with every other L.A. blonde as tends
to happen when lips are smacking and limbs are flailing, so when my
photographer, Anneli Adolfsson, said she'd booked her for my shoot, I
was only slightly excited. She was a porn star, which was very cool,
and up till now, the cover models had progressed from no-name babes who
knew friends who knew friends to actual friends. Then, once I started
working with Anneli, she booked centerfold models that were real
models. Now we were dealing with a bonifide name.
The reason I wasn't thrilled with the idea is that porn stars can be
serious bimbos--I'll bet that's a real news flash--and if they aren't
complete bubbleheads, then they're likely to be total bitches. It ain't
a pretty industry, and the women who've managed to survive and flourish
are hard-as-nails businesswomen shrewdly marketing their most valuable
assets: tits, ass and the ability to smile while getting slammed into
from behind.
Anneli's shoots are always well organized affirs. By the time I show
up, the set is built, the cameras are in place and the model is being
coiffed and curled, rouged and falsh-eyelashed by a professional
stylist. There's either pizza or a deli order delivered to keep
everyone from passing out, because once the shoot starts, it often last
hours. I can honestly say that those women really work, bending
themselves into pretzel shapes in various stages of undress. Anneli's
efforts to avoid capturing every offensive fold of skin, spread of
flesh or wrinkle of brow means that in addition to being bent into
imposible positions, this arm needs to angle a scosh further, or that
foot should move a teensy bit to the left, or could she arch her back
up an inch higher. In person, the human Gumbies appear to be smiling
through moments of discomfort, if not downright pain, in poses that
you'd never see a person strike in a million years. But once the film
is developed, all that torturous tweaking was worth it, as there's
never an unsightly bulge, a less than flattering fold or an obscuring
shadow. In other words, the women look spectacular. Which is why they
love to shoot with Anneli.
Anyway, back to Brittany. When I arrived, she was having her newly-dyed
bright pink hair curled and we made small talk. Within seconds, she'd
offered to help me in some way; I can't even remember exactly what, but
she struck me as both sharp and sweet. Anneli took the deli order and
Brittany requested a donut. Another good sign, I decided. And you
should have seen her technique for eating it in a way that wouldn't
destroy her makeup job. My only disappointment was that he didn't
immediately wolf the whole thing down.
The shoot was for The Smoking Issue, dedicated to the fetishists who
love to see elegant women smoking. I'd dashed out to a smoke shop in
search of pastel colored cigarettes and the ladies thought I was crazy.
When I returned with a pack of Nat Sherman Confettis, they were mighty
impressed. "The pink ones will look sooo cool with her hair," I gushed.
Anneli, a non-smoker, was insisting on the "demon breathing," a
technique of exhaling that produces the curls of smoke the fetishists
especially crave. Brittany was having a bit of trouble mastering it, so
Anneli demonstrated, gagging and grimacing the entire time. Once she'd
gotten the exhale down, Brittany "demon breathed" like a dream and we
oohed and ahhed as she struck each seductive pose, the smoke curling
around her voluptuous lips and swirling past her crystal blue eyes. The
cigarettes would burn themselves out between each series of snaps, and
I became the smoking slave. As Brittany's distaste for the evil cancer
sticks increased, I offered her a Jelly Belly, highly recommending the
cinnamon ones.
Soon, I was positioned just out of camera range, matches in one hand
and bag of Jelly Bellys in the other, and every few clicks I would dash
in and deposit a tiny red bean on Brittany's tongue. I said it felt
like I was delivering her "meds," and Brittany laughed that this was
the kind of druggy behavior people probably expect on a porno shoot. I
was also the ashtray, but not in the human ashtray sense; I only
proferred the silver Deco depository for Brittany to flick her ash or
extinguish a stub. Still, the entire scenario would have made a
stimulating video for the serious smoking wanker set.
Even if we didn't have the video cameras rolling, we did have Anneli's
camera, and the results are absolutely perfect! I've provided a slide
for you to see for yourself. Look for Brittany's shoot on newsstands in
July!
For more about Brittany Andrews: www.brittanydrews.com
For more about Annelie Adolfsson: www.anneliadolfsson.com
[Written in the late '90s.]
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