Several years ago cameraman Mike Raffone was shooting me and another girl as we did a custom video. A private customer, Ryan, had paid us to shoot a personal video for him. The other model, Marcia, and I were talking to the camera as if we were speaking to Ryan directly. The script called for us to present each other’s bodies to Ryan and then have sex while he was supposedly sitting there watching. After we finished Mike would burn a DVD containing the footage and mail it to Ryan who happens to live somewhere in the Great Midwest.
Marcia and I decided to drink some wine while we were shooting. I think it may have actually been her birthday, but I’m not completely sure about that. It’s not as if you really need an excuse to drink when you are over at Mike’s studio. In many ways shooting at his place is like dancing at a strip club: you just relax and go with the flow until you make your money. In any case, Marcia ended up drinking way too much and all of a sudden her personality took a turn. We had been caressing each other, smiling, and flirting with the camera. I remember Marcia rubbing her hands over my body and saying in her soft, seductive voice: “Look how beautiful Tanya is. Don’t you want her, Ryan?” Then, in a blink of an eye, she lost her composure. It was as if a demon had invaded her body and Marcia turned and glared straight into the lens with steely-eyed hatred.
“I bet you do want her, don’t you, Ryan?” she asked again, this time contemptuously. “Well, guess what, you fucking asshole? You can’t fucking have her because she’s mine! She’s mine, you stupid piece of shit....Fuck you, motherfucker!...What do you think of that?..You men think you can get whatever you want....Well, FUCK you!...FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!!...”
I had stepped out of the frame of the camera when she had begun her diatribe. Mike Raffone and I were exchanging shocked glances over her head as he dutifully kept recording Marcia’s behavior on film. He did not know what to do. I did not know what to do. Marcia kept on viciously excoriating Ryan through the camera lens. Finally, for lack of any better idea, I called out: “Okay, cut!” Marcia stopped talking immediately. Mike looked at me and I made a show of smiling, pressing my hands together, and remarking that we had gotten almost enough footage. “I’ll just do the last few minutes myself because I think that Ryan wanted me to do a little segment where I, uh, danced or something.” I said lamely. Mike nodded enthusiastically as if the thought of my doing a dance routine was an exciting prospect and Marcia moved towards the kitchen to reclaim the bottle of wine.
Comically, Mike did end up filming me as I did a short striptease. I don’t really know why we went through the whole charade. Ryan didn’t want a videotape of me dancing. Maybe Mike and I were hoping that Marcia would reclaim her sanity in the space of a few minutes while we kept shooting. She did calm down.
The whole episode was kind of sad because I like Marcia, but I also relish weird experiences. Her drunken spiel had actually been fascinating because it was so inappropriate in those particular circumstances. It’s not often that someone can shock both me and Mike Raffone on the same day. Marcia had been only one or two sentences into her rant before I had started hearing the gravelly voice of an old man named Al ringing in my head. He was saying: “This is gold! This is gold!”
I told all this to Jewell when we were shooting at Mike’s place. The story about Marcia had just occurred to me for some reason. Jewell knows Marcia and was completely horrified that I had found Marcia’s meltdown to be fodder for my own grim amusement. She dragged me into Mike’s bedroom and suspended me from a hook in the ceiling with a length of coarse rope. “Now I’m going to bring over a group of the neighbors so they can derive some twisted enjoyment out of your distress while you're at my mercy!” she promised me. I could see the fiery anger dancing in her eyes..
- XXOO Tanya
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