When I graduated from college and headed off to New York City, I never dreamt my first job would be working on a porno film. I had majored in English in college, but it was impossible to find a job in the Big Apple which required knowledge of the Classics of English Literature. I did, however, see and advertisement for someone with technical theater experience, and I called the number. I had done six seasons of summer stock and had built many sets for stage plays, several of them single-handedly.
My interview, if that's what you want to call it, was in a dark and gloomy loft in the West Village. This was in the days when the Piers were still there. Night or day, this neighborhood was the place to go if you wanted to connect with someone for some hot and sometimes dangerous sex.
I was told by a tall, thin, chain-smoking man named Mitch, who turned out to be the director, that this was a film project--a sex film--and that someone was needed to build a couple of set pieces. We agreed on a price, and he asked me to come to a company meeting the next evening.
I showed up a little after dark and found the loft to be alive with activity and equipment. As I wandered around, my eyes fell on an absolutely gorgeous guy. He was my fantasy man; short and stock and handsome in a rugged kind of way. He couldn't have been more than twenty-three or twenty-four, had black hair and blue eyes and incredibly white skin. He was wearing jeans and a dark tank top and his skin seemed almost to glow. There were faint blue lines where one could trace the veins that ran through his powerful neck and his well-developed arms. His pecs stretched the material of his shirt to the utmost and as he did a series of pull-ups from a bar suspended in a doorway, I found myself hypnotized by him. There was something sullen about him, as though he were alone in the room, although there was a crowd of people about. The spell was broken when I felt a tap on my shoulder--it was Mitch.
He took me over to the 'set'. It was really just a corner of the loft that had been sectioned out with some black curtains. There were some rough drawings laid out on the floor that depicted a wooded structure that was basically a large bed with a sling suspended from above. He asked me if I thought I could build the bed and complete it by the next evening. I looked over the plans and the materials were stacked nearby, and I said I could.
I stayed up all that night working on the set. It was quite a piece of furniture. It was a large platform, like a bed without a mattress and with four large posts that went up twelve feet. Suspended from these posts was a giant sling with restraints that stretched out to each of the four corners. This allowed the sling to be about six feet above the floor. I surmised that camera angles would be better at this height. I sunk large metal rings into each of the posts and tested each one for strength. No one would pull these out once the 'actor' was properly restrained.
By the time I was done, it was almost six AM. There hadn't been a sound anywhere in the loft for hours. I wandered around until I found a cot in the corner, laid down, and fell asleep.
I awoke to Mitch's hand on my arm and a cup of coffee being pushed into my face. It was late afternoon. "Come and see what we're going to do with that set you built us last night," he said. I rolled out of the cot and followed him.
As I stepped behind the black curtains that encircled the set, I was stunned by the two guys who were standing in front of the camera. One was a tall blond man who was dressed entirely in black leather. He wore a massive harness across his huge chest and tight-fitting leather pants. One his feet he wore large black leather boots. He was extremely handsome, and wore a black leather cap that gave him a sexy, threatening look. One of the crew was rubbing oil all over his incredibly thick arms and the blond was obviously enjoying all the attention he was deservedly getting.
Off to the side stood the guy I had noticed the day before. He was wearing black leather pants, too, but the kind that had no seat on them. His bare butt stuck out invitingly, and again I was struck by the alabaster whiteness of his skin. He wore a black leather band on his arm that wrapped tightly around his bicep. He was shirtless and we could see what incredible shape he was in. He wore black leather boots, too, and one of the assistants was giving them a last-minute polish before the shooting began. I felt myself being really drawn to this guy. I positioned myself closer to him as I 'inspected' the set, but he didn't pay me any attention. Suddenly Mitch called for "Places," and we all stepped back.
Mitch described the scene to all of us. Rick (the blond) has picked up Tony (my favorite) in a bar and has invited him back to his playroom. Tony has accepted, although he's a little hesitant. He's only met Rick tonight and doesn't know how far he can trust him. As the scene opens, Rick is gently encouraging Tony to get into the sling.
There was some really corny dialogue that the actors ran through several times to get it right. It was interesting to see that one some level Tony wasn't all that comfortable about getting into the sling. There was some sexual excitement growing in the room as we all watched Rick go over his lines and being to lift Tony up onto the platform. Mitch thought it looked good and called for a shot. We all got quiet.
The camera focused on the sling and then panned to Rick and Tony entering. Rick had most of the lines and he delivered them rather stiffly. I was riveted by Tony, however. He only needed to look at the camera to transmit his uneasiness about what was happening. Rick slowly encouraged him up to the platform and then had him sit in the sling. They began to make out, Rick sticking his tongue into Tony's mouth, and softly running his hands all over his incredible body. Eventually Tony consented. He leaned back and let Rick put restraints on each of his wrists. When it came to his legs, Rick pulled the black boots off Tony's feet and the wrapped a restraint around each ankle.
Something happened to me as I was watching this scene unfold. I grew rock hard when I saw this incredible-looking guy bound totally helpless before me. He had a lot of leeway to move about in the sling, but his arms were definitely immobilized about his head. This left his bare chest extremely vulnerable. I found myself also being drawn to the small dark patches of hair under his arms. He was hairless on his chest, so the hair in his armpits was even more noticeable. I suddenly imagined myself running my tongue up along Tony's side and then sticking it deep into his pit. I couldn't know what his reaction would be, but I was getting hard just imagining.
The other thing that surprised me was the intoxicating aroma that filled the set when Rick pulled Tony's boots off. It was a mixture of male sweat and warm leather. He had on spotless white socks that showed his feet to be big and broad. From the outline of the foot I could see that his second toe was the biggest one on each foot. I imagined myself peeling off those socks, and...well, I wasn't sure, but I certainly wanted to do it.
My reverie ended as I heard Mitch saying, "You can't back out now, Tony. You signed a contract, the set is built, the crew is here and we gotta shoot this. Tonight!" Mitch was getting angry as Tony became more adamant about not feeling comfortable about the scene. Rick took his cap off, threw it down and stormed off the set as the camera man went after him. Several of the other crew rolled their eyes at me and one whispered "Prima Donna..." and gestured towards Tony.
Tony refused to cooperate. He said he wanted to be untied immediately. Said this was not his kind of scene. Said he would return the money he had been paid. Said he was sorry.
Mitch was furious. "Fuck your money, Tony! And fuck being sorry! I've got this place and this crew for one night only! Now I gotta go out and find me another big dick and start all over again. Just fuck yourself!" Mitch stormed out between the black curtains, calling for Rick. "Rick, come one. We gotta get down to the Spike and find you another playmate." The camera crew shut down the equipment and went after Rick and Mitch. As I heard the door close behind them, I left the set and wandered through the loft. I was definitely the only one left up there. Only me. And Tony. I quickly went to the door, made sure it was locked, and headed back to the set.
As I stepped between the black curtains and onto the set, I could see that Tony was struggling with the sling and the restraints that held him in place. When he saw me he stopped moving and stared intently at me. "Hey bud, gimme a hand here," he said in a deep voice. It was more like an order. I didn't respond but walked over to him and looked into his eyes. There was total confidence there. Pure sexual energy. This guy always got what he wanted. He knew it and was proud of it. "Come on, bud," he repeated. "Gimme a hand outta this contraption and I'll buy ya a beer." For the first time, he smiled at me and it was a radiant one. If I didn't have plans of my own, it would have been enough for me to let him go.
I decided I wouldn't say anything for now. Instead I just reached out and ran my hand slowly down the top of his chest towards his navel and then back up to his chin. "Hey bud, you like what you see, huh? I'll let you have it, the whole thing, my thick cock, my sweet ass. Just let me outta this thing. Okay?" He looked at me strangely. "Whaddaya say? Okay?" My silence was unnerving him a little. I dragged my fingers down his chest again and hesitated around his navel. I drew several small circles in the middle of his stomach. He shivered a little bit and took a short breath.
Suddenly I knew what I was going to do. Here I was, totally along with a man right out of my fantasies tied helplessly before me. I imagined I might have an hour or so before Mitch and the crew came back. I had an entire hour to realize any fantasy I wanted with this incredible hunk. One of my most private, most intense fantasies revolved around tickling. I had often imagined tying a guy down and tickling him unmercifully. Tickling him until he thought he was going out of his mind. And now here I was with Tony.
I continued drawing circles one his stomach and then began to draw lazy designs on his ribcage. I stood up over him on the platform to do this so I could see directly into his face. His eyes were closed and his face was pinched into a tight grimace. "Hey buddy, gimme a break, huh!" He began to jerk spasmodically as I pressed deeper into his ribs. I spread my fingers out began to tickle his sides with real enthusiasm. The response was electric for both of us. He began to swing back and forth in his attempts to escape. My cock grew rock hard watching him as I tickled his ribs. But the sweet victory was being withheld from me. He wouldn't laugh.
His mouth was clamped shut, his eyes were watering, his breathing was erratic. But he wasn't laughing. I moved my hands up towards him armpits and just before plunging into them with my eager fingers, I stopped. I recalled my previous plan. I dropped down to my knees and, beginning at his waist, ran my tongue along his side and then up into that dark patch of hair at the center of his pits. He was starting to break. "No...no...no...now, come on buddy, don't...ooh, ooh....oh shit man, don't do that...oh god no...come on man, what the fuck....oh come on...." He was swinging violently, trying to get away as my tongue darted back and forth into the hairy patch under his arm. I suddenly stood up and, standing behind him, took both of my hands and tickled both his pits at the same time. He began to buck like a madman and tried repeatedly to clamp his arms tightly to his sides. But there was no escape. He was yelling at the top of his lungs. "Stop it man, don't do that...oh shit man, stop it...no, no, stop..." and then he'd trail off into some garbled noise that I didn't know what to make of. But it wasn't what I wanted; I wanted him to squeal with laughter.
There was only one thing left to do. I stopped tormenting his pits and hopped down off the platform. He stopped his contortions and tried to catch his breath as he watched me heading down towards the end of the sling. "No buddy, not that, please. Look, I got three hundred dollars in my jeans over there. It's in cash. It's all yours. But please don't...oh shit man, don't...don't...no, come on...hee-hee, shit man, hee-hee-hee-hah-hah-hah...no more man, no more, please, uh-ha-uh-ha-uh-ha-ha-ha-ha--" and off he went into another uncontrollable spasm of laughter. I was standing at the end of the sling and gently stroking the bottoms of his feet. I ran my fingers up and down the length of his feet and then back and forth, across their wide expanse. I was so hot by now that I really went at it. I reached up and pulled the sock off one and then the other and tickled him everywhere on his bare feet. He twisted his ankles frantically trying to escape, pointed his toes in every conceivable direction trying to move away. Several times he tried to bring his feet together so one could cover the sole of the other, but there wasn't enough room to do so. He was screaming for mercy. "Oh my god man...uh-ha-uh-ha-uh-ha-uh-hee-hee-hee-ho-ho-ho...oh my god man... please stop...I give up man...I give up man, ple-e-hee-hee-hee-hee-ah-ha-ah-ha...oh my god, please stop..."
I stopped. He would have collapsed in a heap if he weren't suspended by his arms and legs. He hung there exhausted, covered with sweat, gasping for breath. I climbed back onto the platform, grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled his head back. For the first time, I spoke. "What do you want, Mr. Porno Star?" I asked threateningly.
"Just stop, please stop. I'll do anything you want, just stop it.
I can't stand it. I'll go out of my fuckin' head."
"Just stop what?" I asked.
"Stop tickling me, man. I can't stand to be tickled. You can have all the money in my pocket over there, man. Just lay off my feet. Please, please stop tickling me."
There was suddenly a loud pounding on the door to the loft. I could hear Mitch shouting. "Hey, open up! What's going on in there?"
I turned quickly to Tony. "So you'll do anything I want, huh? How about just doing what you were hired to do. Do the scene the way you were supposed to, okay?"
"Yeah, man, okay, anything."
I left the set and went to the door and let in Mitch and the crew. They had another guy with them, a guy who looked a lot like Tony.
"Tony's had a change of heart," I said.
"Well, too fuckin' bad. We got us a new star and Tony is history," Mitch said as he flew past me and headed for the set. I ran and caught up with him.
"Listen, Mitch, I got an idea. I know you got a new guy to do the scene the way it was written, but how about shooting another scene. How about making another movie tonight, about a different kind of scene."
Mitch looked at me curiously. "Kid," he said, "I'm all ears."
About six months later I was walking down 42nd Street and saw a title on a dirty movie marquee that said "Tickling Nightmare." I went up, bought a ticket and went inside.
Inside the cool dark theater I sat and watched as Rick tickled Tony mercilessly on the soles of his feet. Rick had a sadistic sneer on his face as he worked Tony's soles over with his finger. The I saw that Mitch had followed another of my suggestions. Rick reached off-screen and came up with a huge black feather and began to run it between Tony's toes. Tony begged for mercy, begged Rick to stop. He kept yelling the same thing out, over and over again. "Please Mitch, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha...oh please, I'll do the scene the way you want...oh please, man, just stop tickling me...uh-ha-uh-ha-uh-ha-uh-ha-hee-hee-hee...I'll do the scene, just stop tickling my feet...I'll do the scene...ah-hah-ah-hah..."
I was the only one in the theater that knew what he meant.