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| by Virginia Beaver |
On Location: Skin 17
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| In the overgrown backyard of a mansion across Sunset from UCLA, a detachment of the delectably undead are menacing a French photog with an arsenal of medieval weaponry. They materialize from behind tombstones, each of them oh-so-L.A. in their hip shades and even hipper fetish gear.
Black vinyl boots and zippered leather masks shine and shimmer in the Westwood sun. Nipples peek through strategic openings in rubber body suits. Creepy tattoos caper up and down toned tummies and bulging biceps. Piercings abound.
This platoon of the horny undead are extras in the latest big-budget Toshi Gold spectacular for Eurotique, Skin 17.
The plot revolves around the progeny of a certain long, tall vampire stud who falls in love with a mortal, mates with her and produces a half-vamp, half-human hottie in the person of Jill Kelly, this production's star. The zombies are currently patrolling the "graveyard" in which much of the action takes place, doing their best to look dangerous. Some of the guys manage to pull it off. The girls just look exceedingly screwable.
One zombiette in particular catches my eye. She's a young Asian lass who looks like she was maybe on her way to the UCLA library and somehow ended up here, half naked and decked out like a fire-breathing dominatrix prowling through a make-believe graveyard. Her body is all natural and succulent. She seems so demure and every bit as innocent as a girl in a black latex body suit and do-me platforms can. She's also very obviously a total pervert. The contrast is bewitching.
After the photog fires off half a roll or so of shots, Jill and Daisy Chain join the group for a few more pictures. Jill is sporting these thigh-high black leather-boots that just make one want to grind one's teeth. Daisy is all but buck naked. The sight of her taut, tanned bod is also enough to ruin a little dental work.
The sun is intense.
The extras are obviously dying in their leather gear, which is of course intended to be worn under very different climatic conditions. After a few more growls and snarls at the camera, they break character and scurry inside to replenish body fluids and enjoy a little A.C. I watch director Toshi work, setting up the next shot. Except for his screaming copper-red mane, which would stand out at even a leprechaun convention, Gold looks like your typical Tinsel Town hipster.
His manner sets him apart, however. He's intense. He's almost brooding. He receives reports from his production assistant and set manager and nods like a panzer commander perched on a tank turret. He silently processes information fed to him by his camera men, grips and sound dudes.
He formulates his vision and decides how to best conjure it into image. He exudes command. He speaks quietly. He gets results.
When the talk turns technical, I head up to the mansion to have a look around. Inside, a pool table is piled high with dildos, rubbers and bottles of lube. Extras primp and preen, some now all but naked, some wearing see-through duds, some fully clothed.
I settle into a couch and watch the show. The A.C. hits me and I realize I haven't really slept in days. Nothing's doing in front of the camera for a while. I close my eyes and doze. Bits of conversation swirl around me. " ... do they really pierce with magnesium? Is that good for you? What will that do to your chakras? Chakras schmackras ... what'll that do to your clitty?" "...so I said, Look, pops, get your fucking hands offa me, put your dick away and cover up that bottle before the cops see it ..."
" ... ooohh ... where'd you get those implants done? They're beautiful!" "I'm calling about the modeling job you had advertised. Uh-huh. Is it still available? It is. Good. Well, just so we don't waste each other's time, let me ask now if it's pornographic. It is? Good!" I open my eyes. One of the extras is lazing in the chair opposite me. She's fully clothed, except she's wearing no panties.
Her knees are pulled up to her chest. She's curled in a very provocative position. It becomes obvious to me that she's thinking about something very exciting. I try not to stare. The cops show up. They're looking for the owner of the house. He's not here. They leave. I'm awake now. I head down to find out when we shoot sex.
The scene we're waiting for is a Jill Kelly threeway with Billy Glide and a dude named Rivera. The preparations are taking forever. The camera man and the French photog are discussing the aesthetics of the chocolate croissant. "There should be no difference between the consistency of the pastry and the consistency of the chocolate," the Frenchman suggests.
"The chocolate should be so creamy and the pastry so moist, that they simply blend into one another." He closes his eyes while he describes it. The camera man nods. I realize I haven't eaten today.
Finally we're ready to shoot sex. Jill saunters out to the thicket where the action will take place. Damn she looks good. The set up will be a few lines of dialogue.
Jill will ask a couple of grave diggers where a certain crypt is. They will inform her that the grave in question is that of a vampire. She will beg them to help her dig it up. They will need some convincing. That's when we start shooting sex.
Jill kneels between them and starts dishing out some expert skull. Billy is long and tall and lean. He sports a formidable length of crotch dangle.
Rivera is somewhat smaller in all respects. Jill milks them greedily. The majestic blonde looks incredible down on her haunches in her black leather thigh-highs, her pussy pink and glistening and ready. The boys don't need much prompting before they're both sporting major wood. They help Jill off with her boots. She's now totally naked. She's an incredible specimen. Her body is perfectly hard in most places and wonderfully soft where it should be. She's queen diva and she knows it. She's getting hornier than a she-wolf in May.
The sex is taking on a life of its own. The action becomes more impromptu, less staged. Jill braces herself on all fours, still inhaling Rivera's meat. Billy slides his hands around her waist and squeezes into her. She lets out a low, guttural moan. Billy responds by pounding her harder. She begins to suck Rivera's root more intensely, punctuating hungry wet slurps with juicy little pops.
Her moans turn to barely-suppressed shrieks. The look on Billy's face tells you that cookie is goood. He and Rivera switch. Jill flips over on her back with her feet in the air. Billy crouches over her face. She works his cock dutifully but her mind is obviously on the righteous shagging Rivera is giving her.
Gold says, "Okay, guys. We need to start thinking about the pop shot. How do you wanna do it?"
The guys don't seem to care as long as they get to unload soon, but Jill has some ideas. She has recently started directing her own Perfectly Pink line for Eurotique and is obviously thinking like a director. "Well, how about if, like I'm hanging from this tree, one of them can be fucking me and and the other one can be up on that branch and cum on my tits and face. You can back-light it with the sun if you wanna get real arty. How will that work?" Toshi likes it.
Billy takes the standing position, knocking it to Jill while she hangs from a branch. "You ready for an orgasm, Toshi?" Jill calls to her director. Billy suddenly pulls out, screams and glazes her golden thigh with a bunch of Glide family DNA.
Then it's Rivera's turn. He spanks while Jill tongues his scrote and runs her fingernail over his bung.
Before long he's ready for launch. Jill positions herself beneath him and catches a formidable cascade of procreation potion on her killer titties. One last drop hangs from the tip of Rivera's well-worked member. Jill slurps it off and spits it out percussively. It's a perfectly perverted exclamation point to punctuate the erotic scene.
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