Today I was filmed in my first pornographic movie.
I was wrong when I thought my morals would come to rest 20,000 leagues under the sea.
They are clearly on a journey to the center of the earth.
While the cameraman was setting things up, I was lying in bed (naked), chatting with one of the other actors involved. He told me he was from Mississippi.
“Where in Mississippi?” I asked.
“A small town—you’d never have heard of it.”
“Try me,” I said. He refused to tell me.
“I promise you won’t know it,” he said. I insisted.
“Laurel.”
My mouth dropped in awe. “You’re from Laurel, Mississippi? Birthplace of Leontyne Price?”
Leontyne Price, for those of you who might not know, is in many people’s minds (mine among them) the greatest operatic soprano in living memory. When she made her début at the Metropolitan Opera in 1961, her standing ovation lasted for 42 minutes. When I heard her live for the first time, her singing was so powerful (emotionally, spiritually, physically) that at one point I fell out of my chair and started hyperventilating—even though I was seated a football field’s length away from her. She had just turned 70.
You can imagine what finding this out about my scene partner (well, one of them, in any case) did for my subsequent performance.
I kind of gave new meaning to the phrase, “Look, ma, no hands!”
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