Have you ever been involved in a ménage a trois? Well, while putting together an expose of the porn biz for Sirius Satellite Radio, I found myself smack in the center of an experience that’s thought of as strictly taboo… And where did this clandestine rendezvous take place? Well, I hate to say it, but right here in the bed of the notorious Robert Evans -- that’s me, pal.
Quite frankly, I’ve never been a particular fan of porno... That’s why I had to do my homework, big. With rare exception, I found it boring. Graphic porno was a turn off rather than a turn on.
Yeah, but I gotta admit there’s an exception to every rule. There was one particular filmmaker in the adult industry whose artistry weaves pornography into the world of true eroticism. He not only stands tall… but stands alone in this eroticless art form. His name: Andrew Blake.
This guy is considered the real thing by both critics and audiences. A genuine auteur. He writes, directs and produces…and what’s on the screen is quintessential erotica…sensual, not vulgar, nor tawdry. Many a critic has compared him to the Helmut Newton of the moving picture.
Homework provided me with the knowledge that without him, I could easily end up in quicksand. He was the only one in the industry whose voice would lend credence to the notion that pornography in the hands of the artist, not the exploiter, could be an art form.…rather than an artless form.
What homework didn’t tell was that for decades this prima donna had disdain for publicity! Mystery had always been his MO, publicity his NO.
Luck prevailed however as, by sheer coincidence, I found out that the prima donna was a huge fan of my work…knowing a lot more about my credits than I did of his. Well, it got my foot in the door and his ass at my door.
We had lunch, laughed, philosophied for hours. Our minds both must be sick…as we clicked on every level. Before light turned to darkness, I convinced him to lie on my bed, go head-to-head, toe-to-toe, both of us to extracting from the other what made our creative minds tick.
Lunch turned to dinner and, like two old yentas, we were still on high. It must have been 10 o’clock at night before I walked him to the front door. Laughing, he put his arm on my shoulder, “You’re one seducer, Evans. You broke my virginity. If I ever thought I’d agree to I’d lie on your bed, open my sick head to the world, I’d never have shown.”
“Bullshit! You know you’re gonna dig letting it all out and I’ll be lying next to you building up your fuckin ego.”
Walking him to his car, he said, “Let’s photograph it…just for the two of us.”
“You’re on.”
“We’re gonna make them fuckin satellites quiver?”
“Let’s shake on that one, Maestro.”
“Just need a favor to make it work...”
“Name it.”
“My muse….I’ll need her to lie beside me on your bed. She’s the only one who can give me the guts to spew out those down and dirties I’ve never talked about.”
“My dear Mr. Blake, she’s all yours.”
THEN CAME THE ZINGER!
“By the way, she’s our connection…she’ll have to lie nude with one leg across me, the other across you, get it? Her name’s Lorraine McKnight, but you can call her the Tall Goddess…that’s what she’s known as …”
As he got into his car, I tried to be as cool as a square could be. “Photographing it? Fuck it…Lets’ forget it.”
With a loud laugh, he drove away.
FLASH FORWARD: punctually at two in the afternoon, English, my major domo, knocked on my bedroom door.
“Mr. E? Andrew Blake is here.”
“Show him in.”
“There’s a young lady with him, Sir.”
“I know, have them come in.”
“You don’t understand, Sir…”
“I DO understand, English… Have them come In.”
Getting up from behind my desk I walked over to greet them as they entered my bedroom door, but I didn’t see Blake….
What I did see was a 6’5” blond vision, totally nude except for her high heels, black mesh stockings, and a fur boa covering her breasts.
Was I hallucinating? I was! Looking up as she looked down, our eyes met. Hardly able to speak I mumbled, “Where’s Blake?”
By reflex I looked down. There stood the maestro, a normal sized guy, but next to the Vision, he disappeared into the woodwork.
This prick must be one fuckin freak… In truth, he wasn’t. He was just trying to headfuck me. Know what? He did…the prick!
Suddenly I’m standing in cement, wordless. I suppose he ain’t “called the king of kink” for nothin’.
The two walk into my bedroom. Me? My feet still in cement…eyes still glued to the Vision; Suicidally thinking, Could this be the 7th Mrs. Evans?
He doesn’t even introduce us, but with great aplomb, turns to the Vision, “Get Undressed.”
Undressed!?
In less than a minute my future wife was shoeless, meshless, and boaless…
Blake tells the Vision to lie on my bed, and spread her legs. That did it!!! Hallucinating graduated to hyperventilating!
I rushed out of the room to look for something to put over my head. This cocksucker’s got me on the run before I ask my first question! I grabbed for a shopping bag, lifted it over my head for close to a minute. Quickly lifting it high, I spouted, “Be with you in 10 minutes, Blake, I’m on the phone with the chairman of the company!” Back went the bag went over my head…. Five minutes of inhaling gave me back my equilibrium. I ain’t braggin’…but if this happened to a non-pro, he’d be flat on his ass in a cold sweat, mumbling to himself, which is what I’m sure Blake had planned for me.
Poor Blake, he picked the wrong guy to headfuck.
Controlling my composure, I walked back into the room as if I had just taken a piss. There they lie… Blake in his khaki pants, and right next to him, skin to skin, lay the totally nude future Mrs. Evans. Great feeling, huh? Her giraffe-like legs gymnastically spread. Each toe touched the two outer corners of my California King sized bed.
Nodding a kind look to Blake, “Ready maestro? Let’s get it on!”
“Ready!” Blake smiled.
Thinking to myself, “You Headfucker! Starting now, you’re gonna learn what headfucking means.”
Trying to do my best imitation of Cary Grant, I casually walked over to the bed and all but eulogized the guy that lay before me: “What an honor it is to have Maestro Blake…. for artists like yourself are very special human beings. Only a few possess that peculiar magic, that extraordinary ability to make us feel, lift us out of our own existence and let us believe in the world of make-believe. I’m speaking of the great ones, now -- and you’re one of them…”
“How can I thank you for your eloquent words?”
“At least you can introduce me to your muse that’s lying on my bed.”
“How could I be so remiss? I know, most probably I’m jealous. Bob, this is the Tall Goddess…lie down beside us.”
As I did, her nude left leg went over mine. I wasn’t shaken…I was in full focus.
“Is it not true, Andrew, that what’s on the screen is the vision that emanates from the head of its creator?”
“Bob, I would say, that’s an insightful way to express it.”
Taking her arm off my leg, by purpose I took a long pause, looked straight in his eyes and threw him the $64,000 question: “If that be true, Andrew, wouldn’t you assume that your cerebellum is fixated with decadency and laced with heavy sexual kink. That’s dangerous…very dangerous. I’m lying next to one explosive cocktail.”
When you orbit around the earth, you are above the stars, the censors and the law… they can’t catch you or touch you!
WHAT A CUM SHOT FOR THEM!
Be sure and catch “In Bed with Robert Evans”, Saturday 5/14 at 6 pm and 8 pm ET & Sunday 5/15 at 5 pm and 7 pm ET. Only on Sirius Satellite Radio.