I’m shooting a Manojob scene with Ginger Lee. Ginger’s great. I should write a blog about her: she’s a Southern Belle, she’s blonde and petite…and she’s a total heet.

Uh huh that rhymed.

She likes being in the sex biz and she’s great to work with. She has no problem taking a load to the face. She showed up for her scene on time, and everything went well.

But that’s no fun to read about…right?

And since my blog is nothin’ but fun, I’ll change it up. Soon.

Anyways, I wrap the scene. I give Ginger the elbow-tap for job-well-done. (The elbow-tap is Porno Speak; it’s kinda equivalent to a knuckle-tap…which is kinda the equivalent to a handshake. You certainly don’t wanna shake the hand of a Porno Princess when it’s covered in lube — or the deadly combo of lube and jizz. You don’t even wanna knuckle-tap that shit; hence, the elbow-tap).

I walk into my office…and I walk into a crowd of people. This never happens, and, for a second, I’m taken back. I look at The Minion, who looks at me, and he’s as uncertain about this as I am. My immediate reaction is to yell: first at The Minion, for letting this crew into my space without asking me…and then at the crew…just cause.

I refrained, cause you remember what happened last time, right? If not, the last time I yelled at The Minion he walked, and I don’t blame him. No one really deserves to be yelled at. I’ve started checking myself before I blow my top. It’s working.

So I ask The Minion in my very-best effort of a calm voice, “Dude, what’s up here?”

He answered equally as calming: “It’s your talent for the next scene.”

I take a second look. Two women are setting up a table and prepping food; there’s also an LMT working a and naked woman on her table; yet another is working on wigs. She’s got like 6 Styrofoam heads on another table and she’s combing wigs. The boss is this dude dressed kinda like one of Malcom X’s crew — circa ’66.

I take this all in.

I look at The Minion.

The Minion looks at me.

I started to laugh. So did The Minion. I told The Minion, under my breath, “dude. Grab the camera. This is fucking classic.”

You gotta understand this: Porno Princess is here to do a $400 scene. It’s a BJ scene with a quickie. She’s almost an unknown. No, wait. She is an unknown. A total no-namer. This ain’t no Vivid contract girl. This ain’t even A Name Girl. And here she is with a crew that Jenna Jameson wouldn’t even travel with.

The Man In Charge walked up to me and introduced himself. He’s Porno Princess’s manager. “Greetings and blessings. I’m her personal manager, and we are here to make sure everything goes as planned.” He smiles a lot, and he says “greetings and blessings” a lot, or just “blessings”. He nods his head, and he puts his hands together as in prayer as he speaks.

I get the feeling he’s one of the biggest frauds I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering in my entire life.

Oh, I didn’t even mention this: in addition, the chef has a PA, and The Man in Charge has a PA, too. Porno Princess is the one on the table, getting a rub down before her scene. The chef is dressed like a chef, with a floppy white chef hat, and she has a small portable burner.

The Chef diced up tomatoes and fruit.

The LMT rubbed and rubbed and rubbed.

The Wig Lady combed a whole bunch.

And sure I’m laughing with The Minion, but all this has me worried, too. Big time. If they’re treating this no-name Porno Princess like this, I know she’s gonna be a handful when I get her on to the glory hole.

Sure enough, she’s a colossal bitch. Her feet hurt. She needs to sit down. Her back hurts. She needs to stand up. Her legs hurt. She needs to bend her legs. Her knees hurt. She needs to stand up and shake them out. She can’t kneel. She can’t fuck through the hole. She won’t swallow. She doesn’t like cum on her face. She can’t have cum shot into or anywhere near her mother fuckin’ wig.

But I’m a new man, remember? I’m the New Billy Watson. I keep my cool. I don’t blow. I don’t yell. I just call The Man In Charge from my cell. “Um, bro, we got a problem.”

I go through the problems.

He replies, “no problem, Billy. Just assert some control over her. Do not allow her to talk back. If she needs to be put in her place, do it. It’s your scene. You’re in charge. She’ll listen to you…just be (long pause) assertive. You know what I mean?”

I smile. I’m dealing with a pimp, and he just confirmed it. I wanted to ask him where all his greetings and blessing went, but I didn’t. I walked back to set and just rolled camera. Cool as a fuckin’ cucumber…just cause you can always count on a pornographer for clichès.

When the load came through the hole, I thought she was gonna hurl. This, of course, makes for great porn.

We left the bathroom and jumped into the van and headed back to the studio.

All I can think of as I’m driving back is another day, another dollar…and another story for my blog.

A $400 scene.

7 people.

If my math is right, they made $57.15 a piece — if they split it all.

My hunch, though, is The Pimp took his $400, plus his $50 agent fee — and he’ll buy all his whores dinner at Sizzler.

After he fills up his gas tank.

No, wait…Shakey’s. Not The Siz’. The all you can eat buffet at Shakey’s.

Cause it’s way more cost effective.

Cause that’s how Pimps roll, yo.