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Hey Sweetie!
I hope you’re enjoying the Cali sun. Don’t forget to let me know what you want for your birthday, Ez!
Peace. Emotional stability. A remedy for my anxiety attacks—these are just a few of the things I yearned for. Yet, everything I desired remained out of reach, largely because my mother, ironically, was at the heart of my distress. This time, cancer showed her no mercy. It was relentless, leading the doctors to make misguided statements, prognosticating that she wouldn’t live to see another Christmas. I’ve never so desperately wished for time to fly, eager for seven months to pass so she could prove them wrong with the New Year. However, until then, I was tormented by the sight of her suffering.
Hence, the depletion of my peace, for I chose to live in a world of delusion. My chosen career brought her the most grief and heartache. As much as I loved my mom and cherished her more than anything, I ignored her pleas to pursue a different career path. She didn’t care that it was my earnings covering what the insurance companies wouldn’t. She didn’t care that my money paid for every expense that she and my dad had. All she cared about was me making something of myself that my future children and grandchildren would be proud of. At thirty-five, I brought her more shame and grief, and, regrettably, that shame and grief would continue.
“Can I just say that I never knew there were awards similar to the Oscars for the adult entertainment industry?” Against my better judgment and listening to my publicist, I agreed to sit down with Chester and Eric B, Kid, and Play look-alike rejects and hosts of the Bros Who Love The Heaux’s Podcast. Jumping on the bandwagon of purchasing mics from Amazon and setting up a YouTube account, they were two lame-ass dudes who made money by talking shit about people.
Chester admired all nine awards lined up on the table next to us. This nigga looked like a fucking clown wearing a high-top fade that was shaved asymmetrical on the right side, skin-tight jeans that were tighter than the only woman in the studio with us, and wearing a hoodie in ninety-degree LA weather. Again, a fucking clown.
Eric, on the other hand, was seconds away from drooling and catching a sexual harassment charge from staring at Candice so damn hard. Nigga had no game or personality whatsoever. Bragged about the shit he had, famous people he met and was friends with. All fucking lies. I learned a long time ago that dudes who had to speak on their success and life did so because they were lacking somewhere and had to make it up elsewhere.
His life failures at the cost of my annoyance.
“You won not one but nine AVN Awards, man. Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Leading Actor, Best POV Sex Scene, Best Romance, Best Soundtrack, Best Star Showcase, Director of the Year, and Male Performer of The Year. Damien, you are the king of porn and have been for the last decade.” Standing, he bowed his head several times, further pissing me off and annoying the hell out of me. Remembering the cameras, I checked my phone while he had his moment of fuckery.
If it’s not too much trouble, do you mind making me a perfect chocolate cake and your lasagna?
I really don’t want anything, ma. I just want to spend time with you when I get back.
Sunnie Mae:
Hey Handsome Face!
I heard through the grapevine that you’re in my city. Make me the happiest girl alive and come see me…pretty please?!?!
Sharp-tipped nails squeezing my thigh and a narrow elbow nudged me, I glared over at Candice. “They’re asking you questions.” She whispered with pinched brows, trying to see what was on my phone.
“Repeat that for me again.” Looking past Eric and at the clock, we had another thirty minutes before this mess was over. My publicist swore these interviews helped our fan base feel like they had a deeper look into my company. That I was human and not just selling sex.
They could categorize me however they felt.
“I was saying that Chester needs to stop downplaying your success.” Eric needed new friends. A burnt orange and lime green sweatsuit with neon pink shell toe Adidas was not a good look… for anybody. “Damien, man, not only are you dominating the sex industry year after year, but you’re also, forgive my French, the dick women want to keep in their side dressers. You got a whole award for having the best and most bought mold of your dick. Who in the hell can do that but you?” Between their laugh and Candice’s wheezing laugh, I felt the beginning pressure of a headache on the horizon.
No matter how many times I hear it, sometimes I forget that my ‘scene’ name is Damien. Funny part of it all, I only choose that name to piss off my dad. He swears creating me is the worst mistake he’s ever made. I’m a disgrace to the family and his bloodline. So, to show him that I honor his legacy, I changed my name to his, so every time I do a video, win an award, the blogs talk about me and so forth, they’re using his name. The first time he found out what I did, he tried to fight me. Physically fight me. My mama didn’t know what to do. Trying to keep us apart and cuss me out at the same time. My brother thought it was the funniest shit ever, but not my dad.
It solidified his hate and fueled the malice that replaced the love in his heart for me. You’d think as a man, he’d praise me for sleeping with so many beautiful women. Some dudes I know, their fathers felt honored that their sons were getting endless amounts of pussy.
Not my dad.
Nigga hated my guts for doing it.
Oh, well.
Polishing off the last remnants of their stale bourdon, I adjusted my tie and marinated on his question. “Nobody can.” Cocky, in every literal sense, and confident, I knew the weight my dick packed. That motherfucker was heavy and worth every million attached to my name. “I’ve been in this industry since I was twenty-two years old. That’s over ten years and I’ve been holding my own ever since. How do I do it? Simple - I don’t let anyone tell me what I can and can’t do with my dick.” They laughed but probably had no idea the in-depth details I was referring to.
Since I was seven years old, I wanted to be a professional athlete playing in the NFL as one of the best wide receivers ever to touch the field. That dream carried me far and further into the beginning years of adulthood. One wrong tackle and collision with a big ass lineman shattered every dream along with my knee. Luckily, I listened to my dad and made sure I always had a Plan B if sports weren’t going to open doors. Graduating with my master’s in film and media studies and a minor in graphic design, I used my knowledge to start the largest Black-owned adult entertainment business globally.
Only thing I never saw coming or expected was that my dick would be the key to my success.
“Outside of who you are as an entertainer, I admire your ambition as a businessman. You aren’t content with having sex with multiple women for a check. You went straight for the jugular and started your own company and website that rivals some of the best that have been out since porn became digital. What made you decide to shift gears and own instead of working for the white man?” And here I thought Chester was going to use the whole interview to stare at my awards.
“As cliche as it sounds, I did it for our people. Black and brown people. I started out how most do with using my social media accounts to grow my following and meet other creatives in the same field. Since I was a young boy getting my hands on my uncle’s magazines and VHS tapes, seeing Uncle Luke and The 2 Live Crew at concerts with naked women. Hearing stories of Freaknik. None of that was portrayed when I started. It felt very, shall I say, boring. What really confirmed how I felt was this woman I was having sex with. We were watching porn, and she asked that I turn it off because it wasn’t turning her on. When I asked her why she said there was nothing stimulating about a man walking in a room, a woman dropping down to her knees, and sucking his dick. No foreplay or anything. So, it got me thinking. Why can the white porn stars have storylines but the Black people are straight savages with it?” Everyone, the camera crew included, nodded in agreement.
“My target audience and purpose will forever be for my ladies.” To add spice to the ratings, I leaned over and kissed Candice under her ear, earning a giggle and rosy cheeks.
