The Sunset Room is a vast place, but on Thursday night the joint was so packed it seemed downright intimate. The club was teaming with bodies; some belonging to civilians, some to industry suits, and some to a bevy of high-grade porn poon in a mood to party.
And party they did. Booze flowed and boobs were brandished — a wonderful example of cause and effect — as flashbulbs blinked and grown men gawked. It was all thanks to the army of Porn Valley hosts who teamed up to let the good times roll in Hollywood: VCA/Hustler Video, X-Play, Sex Z Pictures, Smash Pictures, Northstar Associates and New Sensations.
I wedged my way through the throng of drinking, dancing fun hounds and into the VIP Room, which was packed, given the sheer number of very important people in attendance. There was AVN Award-winner Mr. Johnson and pimp extraordinaire, decked out in some appropriately astounding threads, along with his top ‘ho Amenah Blu, managing, as always, to look outrageous and ravishing at the same time.
Johnson augmented his glitter, pinstriped suit with a massive chalice bearing the name “Mr. Johnson” spelled out in some kind of diamond material, and a similarly adorned walking stick. After shaking hands about nine times in five minutes (once for every time he laughed; Johnson must be one of the friendliest men in porn), I moved on toward the bar, caroming off of red-hot Shay Sights and Nick Manning, stopping to witness a trio of fantastic woman flesh — Celestia Star, Lori Pleasure and Kelly Erikson — happily posing for the cameras, playing with each other's stupendous body parts. As in boobs and butts. You know, the stuff men like.
Ms. Pleasure’s chest was barely concealed by a skimpy top from the Mofo Wear collection that read “Evil” across those aforementioned cans. Odd, as enormous fake tits aren’t evil. As every right-thinking citizen knows, they’re to be applauded, celebrated, spoiled. Mofo himself stood outside with pornstress Georgia South, who wasted no time in informing me that she “can’t get enough cock.” Next she told me I have “cool colored eyes” (they’re green. Go figure), then generously offered some fellatio. Reluctantly, I declined.
“I love a dick in my mouth more than anything,” she stated. Somehow I could believe this. South suddenly smiled like a prize winner, grabbed my crotch and chirped, “I like older men.” What can I say? JFK was still boffing secretaries in the White House pool when I was born, so I guess I qualify. I made my exit with Georgia on my mind, and spotted more partying talent: Missy Monroe, Britney Rears, Taylor Curtis, Devinn Lane, the affable Jon Dough and foxy wife Racquel de Moan, to name but a few.
The vivacious Lily Thai stepped out of the shadows, talking to Kelly Erikson. And simulated various sex acts with her, much to the delight of a gaggle of photographers. As she swigged from her drink, native Austenite Lily laid some plain old Texas wisdom on me: “It’s only alcohol abuse if you throw up.”
Not to be out done, blond stunner Erikson fondled her undeniable bazongas, gazed at Thai and exclaimed that “she’s so hot she’s got me sweating like a whore in church!” Amen to that. Surprisingly, Erikson was wearing a bra. I became aware of this when she lifted her shirt and showed me. “I know,” she admitted, somewhat guiltily. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Of course, not a thing.
And nothing was wrong with the bash itself, not by a long shot. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, the good people of Porn Valley bundled themselves into their vehicles and headed toward the Ronald Reagan freeway, to awake in the morning and return to the important work of supplying a hungry, horny world with fuck films.
Pictured: Britney Rears.
