‘What The Hell Was I Thinking?!!’ - Confessions of the World’s Most Controversial Sex Symbol (12 page)

My movie that March was called
Compulsion
which co-starred Tom Byron. That movie shoot stands out in my mind not because of anything other than the fact that Tommy boy couldn’t get it up, and then once he did, he had trouble keeping it up. I remember they had to stop shooting at one point to help him, because I certainly wasn’t going to, that was his responsibility. Anyway, I remember having to make that point to John T. Bone because I was calling to make a nail appointment while they were injecting Tom with whatever hard-on assistance drug they had to get him up to par for the scene to continue. While this was going on, John made some comment to me about the fact that he was trying to shoot a movie

and I was on the phone, as though that was somehow the thing holding him up instead of Tom’s inability to get it up. Naturally, I shot back at him that ‘It’s not my fault he doesn’t have his shit together,’ and they really couldn’t argue with me, but I still found it funny. I think that’s important to underscore in context of my larger attitude about the business, that it was just that, a business, and nothing more. There was nothing personal going on between Tom and I that would have compelled me to be sympathetic to his impotence, and there would have needed to be for me to even consider helping him stay hard. I guess I took it a little personal from John that I got shit about it when I was not the cause for the hold up, but somehow it was in my job description to be a fucking hooker or something and help get him hard. It’s not like he was my fucking trick or something.That just really offended me underneath the surface, but I kept it professional on the face of things and eventually we got back to work. It has always bothered me though that those in the porn business — particularly men — fail as often as they do to draw the distinction between us being porn stars and hookers. Granted we’re both being paid to have sex, but one is doing it in the fucking street, and the other is doing it on screen for thousands of people to watch. One is making $40 for their time, the other is making $1750, and there is a defined difference. The public can make that mistake, but not professionals who work in the business. It’s important that the line between the two be finely defined and followed, and I just felt really strongly that it wasn’t that day.

No matter, I let it go once the shoot was over, and moved on, but incidents like that got spread around the porn rumor mill as gossip, and that helped to spawn the whole ‘Jasmin’s a bitch’ label because I kept it strictly business on and off the set. No matter what they thought or wrote though, my movies sold well, and the press couldn’t get enough of me. John couldn’t really say shit to me either because I was his company’s bread and butter at that point, and we already had talked too much shit about
Gang Bang II
for either of us to back out. He needed me and I needed him I suppose, so John came quickly to respect my rule and didn’t slip up again. On a personal front, I found out through friends back East that Dick had found out what I was into and was actually rather passive in his reaction to it, taking the attitude that ‘If it makes her happy, she should do it.’Dick cared so little about anyone or anything beyond himself that he wouldn’t have been capable of being worried for me, where on the other hand, Kurt found out and actually went about trying to talk me into quitting. It was comical to me that he had originally told me I wasn’t good enough to be in the business. I didn’t know what his true motive was in trying to talk me into quitting, because he used Stern’s tact of telling me how I was ‘too good for it,’ and so forth. I took that genuinely from Howard because he had no possible ulterior motive in telling me, where Kurt had several. He was married by then and I was well over him but at least it felt a little like closure between us.

On the other hand, with Dick, I felt no sense of closure
because
he didn’t seem to care one way or the other. I had also started talking to Sickie again, we’d lost touch for a while, and then he’d heard me on the Stern show and called to congratulate me. He’d had some jealous, crazy bitch girlfriend who wouldn’t let him talk to me because I was a porn star, so he hadn’t really seen me become one, and we’d lost touch shortly before I signed to Metro. Anyway, it was nice for me to re-establish that friendship because we got along on so many levels as people, and he wasn’t anything like most of the shallow fucks I encountered out in L.A. I didn’t make my sentiment on that a secret in the press either, my feeling that everyone I worked with on the star side was as light in the brain as their scenes were of any real action. I was a hard core porn star for a reason, because I took it to the next level every time action was called and the camera was rolling. When I did interviews, I wore honesty on my sleeve as naked as I was in my films. I put it all out there for the press and public to sort through, and no one can deny me my ‘Queen of Controversy’ crown, or I wouldn’t have been dubbed by the press as the ‘World’s Most Controversial Sex Symbol.’I held the line on consistency with everything I did that had directly to do with porn, or rooted out from it. That was the only way to establish any kind of long-term reputation foundationally, and I worked my ass off to make sure I got the maximum exposure possible. Most of the girls — in the context of exposure — extended the boundaries of that word’s definition only to include when they had their clothes off on screen.They didn’t understand the game of promotion, and the fact that life imitates art in the porn business, so that if you play up an on-screen persona, much like a rapper, the media will eat it up. They love it because it causes controversy, and therein consistently gives them something to write about, to report if you want to call that journalism. My bottom line was: any press is good press, whether I was being positively reviewed for a performance in one of my movies or being negative by trashing everyone I had to put up with in the process of making my climb to the top. My biggest bang was yet to come, but right around the bend of my sexy ass, and I honestly couldn’t wait because I knew it would put me over the top! Ironically, the night before the big day, Lemmy attempted to talk me out of it!

Lemmy Kilmister:
I had seen all this advanced publicity about the biggest gang bang in the world, and I’d tried to talk her out if doing it. I remember I actually saw her out at the Rainbow the night before. She came back to my house and again I tried to talk her out of it and persuade her NOT to do it, and she wouldn’t have it. I tried my best, but she wouldn’t listen unfortunately and it changed and spoiled her personality a bit, where she got very bad-tempered for a long time — quite abrasive. She changed quite a bit after that, I felt like it disillusioned her a bit. That bubbly personality went on holiday after that gang bang thing, she became very angry.

I think she wanted the notoriety, she was aiming on becoming a big porn star, but she didn’t realize how it would change her emotionally. She’s a really nice person, and she’s really taken a beating, and it’s kind of her own fault, but all the same, I don’t think she realized quite what it was going to be like. For a long time she was really uptight, and I think it’s why she didn’t do porn after 2000. It set her back a few years, and it has taken her 10 years to get this far from it.

Excerpt taken from
The L.A. Weekly,
‘Scenes from My Life in Porn’ by Evan Wright, April, 1996:
‘In 1996, an unknown named Jasmin St. Claire set out to have sex with 300 men in a XXX video titled
The World’s Biggest Gang-Bang II
, thereby breaking an alleged record of 251 men set a year earlier by Annabel Chong. By the mid ’90s, gang bang films had become a hot product in the industry.They not only created overnight stars  — worthy of
Howard Stern
and
Jerry Springer
 — but added a new dimension to celebrity worship. Whereas at one time an autograph served as a hallowed connection with a famous person, now fans, invited to participate in these spectacles, could actually fuck a star.
‘Late one Sunday morning on the second floor of a decrepit Hollywood sound stage, Jasmin held a press conference prior to the shoot. Reporters and photographers from such esteemed publications as
Club
,
Screw
and, of course,
Hustler
packed the room. Champagne was served. Jasmin, 23, entered in skintight red latex. She moved imperiously, with her head held high and her surgically augmented D-cups thrust forward. Jasmin’s ethnic origins were a mystery. Her skin was coppery brown, like a glass of tea in sunlight. She told people her dark complexion came from Brazilian blood, and there were rumors that she was the granddaughter of a New York mobster. She denied those, and claimed to have been raised by an international-financier father, to have been educated in Continental boarding schools and to have an undergraduate degree from Columbia. At the press conference, Jasmin responded in French, German and Spanish to questions from European porn-magazine stringers. As cameras flashed and the room filled with the staccato sound of 20 reporters calling her name, the scene took on the air of an old-fashioned Hollywood movie premiere. I asked Jasmin why she was having sex with 300 men, and she answered, “To achieve my dreams.”
‘The event began on a set decorated with paper palm trees and tiki lamps. Perhaps 50 men showed. They were authentic amateurs, a cross section of humanity that might have been culled from an unemployment line: old, young, fat, bald, and skinny. They wore tennis shoes and work boots, but no pants or underwear, as they were herded into groups of five along lines taped onto the concrete floor. A half a dozen fluffers knelt by the taped lines and prepared the men for their encounter with Jasmin. She lay on a low stage and could barely be glimpsed through the clutches of hairy asses flexing around her. Jasmin’s hands grasped at erections as the men circled her, copulating with her mouth, vagina and ass. The teams of gangbangers were given five or 10 minutes with Jasmin. They wore condoms when they penetrated her. They removed their condoms to ejaculate on her stomach, thighs, breasts, face, or in her thick, wavy brown hair. When the men finished, they sat in bleachers at the edge of the sound stage or milled around and lamely jacked off, trying to nurse fresh hard-ons for another go.
‘I experienced a sense of numbness on Jasmin’s set  — as I would on many others  — that I can only compare to accounts I have read of combat. It was the sense of being in a group of people deliberately and methodically engaged in acts of insanity. Unlike in combat, I was not overwhelmed by the horror of it, but by the grand-scale stupidity, which crystallized that day as I stood by the craft-services cart. Boiled hot dogs on cold, white buns were being dispensed. A man next to me politely passed the mustard. The bottle was sticky with K-Y Jelly. I never attempted to eat on a porn shoot again.
‘It was during Jasmin’s bid for the title of world’s biggest gangbang queen that she acquired her reputation as a bitch. One of the men I spoke to, 40-ish, with the tan and physique of a lifelong desk worker summed up his experience as a star-fucker. ‘Jasmin is cold,’ he said, then compared her to Annabel Chong, whom he’d met a year earlier when he’d participated in her
World’s Biggest Gang-Bang
. “She’s not friendly like Annabel was.”’