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Anna Nicole Smith: Pornographer
Mostly true stories from the Hollywood walk of shame. . . Steve gets his mug (and ass) on TV.
His friends shriek like the nutty queens they are.
I race into Jerry's Famous Deli in Los Angeles's San Fernando Valley expecting the worst. My best friend Robert has called an emergency lunch meeting with me and our other friend Kevin. My two friends are being seated by the waiter as I arrive.
"I just had the hottest fuck of the year, and I already regret it!" Robert starts in breathlessly before the menus are even laid down.
The waiter slowly walks away, his ears cocked toward us, as Kevin and I stare at Robert, dumfounded.
"You're a whore," Kevin states.
"You're not allowed to be ashamed," I add before Robert protests.
"When has he ever exhibited shame about his
whoring?" snaps Kevin.
"This is serious!" yells Robert. He slams his fist on the table, causing people stare at us (an increasingly common occurrence, I fear), and Kevin and I feel fully reprimanded.
"You know Anna Nicole Smith?" he asks.
"You had sex with Anna Nicole Smith?" Kevin and I shriek as the waiter returns for our drink order. He spins around like Diana Prince into Wonder Woman and leaves again, without speaking.
Robert inhales, controlling himself. "You know that guy I fucked who works for Ram Juice Power Drink?"
"Curious Cock?" I ask, then explain to Kevin, "His dick curves to the right like it's peeking around a corner looking for something."
"How do you have sex with that kind of penis? What angle is your head in for oral?" Kevin asks.
"I fucked him. Now pay attention!" Robert hisses. "The point is that I delivered her a refrigerator and four cases of Ram Juice this morning."
"As a favor to Curvy Cock? Did he promise to fuck you sideways if you did it?" asks Kevin, knowing that a) as an advertising exec, this delivery job is beneath Robert; and b) that there's always room for one more judgmental bitch-slap among friends.
"Aren't they shooting a reality show about her? An Osbournes rip-off?" I ask.
"Yeah," Kevin confirms, "I heard about that the other night on Larry King."
"How come everyone knows this stuff except me?" Robert sighs.
"Well, if you broadened your mind instead of your love hole‹" Kevin squeaks to a halt as the same realization hits us simultaneously.
"You're on The Anna Nicole Show?!!"
"I had no idea," Robert starts. "Obviously, CC knew about it and wanted no part. But I got there; I signed the release form agreeing to be on camera, and they started shooting. Then I walk in, she's at the top of the stairs, and I swear to God her eye shadow almost covered her forehead!"
"Did you put your face between her huge-o-matic boobs and hum that Otto Titsling song from Beaches?" Kevin asks, so excitedly that I think he seriously hopes Robert had.
"No, because just as I turned, her top opened and her boobies fell out! They were bigger than..." his eyes search for a comparison.
"Your hole after a gang bang?" I offer.
"Well, I screamed," he continues, ignoring me, "and her dog came flying down the stairs and chomped my fucking leg!" Robert lifts his pant leg to show us the small black-and-blue welt. "So a production assistant offered to show me where the bathroom wasŠ"
"Let me guess," Kevin interrupts. "He was gay."
"And hot," I add.
"And you had to take your pants off rather than lift your leg like just now..."
"And, oops! You'd forgotten to wear underwear, huh?"
"I had on a jockstrap." Robert sniffs, then his attention excitedly returns to the porno playing in his head. "Anyway, he propped my foot on the bathroom counter and started eating my assŠ"
"At least you knew his job title, if not his name."
"Then he started jacking me off," Robert continues, "spanks me a couple times, starts fucking me and, ooh, he's so big‹then all of a sudden my face smacks into the mirror and I see it."
"A genital wart?" guesses Kevin.
"A two-way mirror! They'd shot the whole thing."
"While his whole thing was in your hole thing, and they shot the whole thing?" I ask.
"And now I'm freaking out. Anna Nic is about as entertaining as Kevin is butch. They'll need our fag action for ratings. I'll be in every commercial. They'll call me from radio stations to do interviews!"
"I've always pictured you doing porn," Kevin offers.
"We could produce it!" I say. "I know out-of-work writers; Kevin can do the music on his CasioŠ"
"Guys! It's one thing to be queer and piggy with my friends, but that's not who I am at the office. I ditched work to run this errand, and this exposure could destroy my career. Everyone in the United States will have seen my face."
"Your ass, really," I correct.
"I don't know what to do."
For once, Kevin and I have no barbs to return. We see just how worried Robert is.
"I'm sure there's some legal
precedent against using the material," Kevin offers.
"I didn't read the release form. For all I know I signed away all of my rights."
"Then there's only one thing to do," I say. "Go back and get the video."
My two friends look at me, inspired, and I suddenly realize to my own horror that the three of us are about to commit a crime. We're going to rob Anna Nicole Smith.
Words by Steve Delucca
Experience the sextraordinary in the latest issue of Unzipped Monthly, on sale now.
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