By Terrence McCoy
By Allie Conti
By Terrence McCoy
By Scott Fishman
By Deirdra Funcheon
By Allie Conti
By New Times Staff
By Ryan Pfeffer
Gunn has three studio lights arrayed in a triangle around the two double beds. Sandy, Taijé, and Patrick relax on the loveseat. Patrick, age 37, is a former antiques dealer. He's here to watch his wife work and to be an extra if needed. "I do walk-ons, chit-chat with the girls, that sort of stuff. No sex scenes," he says. Gunn has talked Taijé into appearing in a film, but she is still too camera-shy to perform any hard-core activity. Gunn filmed her on the beach, with her swimsuit on, earlier in the day.
Patrick is delighted by his wife's porn career. "I think it's a blast," he says. "I think it's great. She's having fun, everyone is cool, and she likes the sex. I'll get a good collection of videos out of it, and that works for my fetishes."
His wife is wearing tight white shorts, a purple bikini top, and high heels. She's been in the business four months. This will be her seventh film, her third for Gunn. She also appeared in Lesbian Cheerleading Squad Number 3, and Strap On Sally 17. "I wasn't Strap On Sally, but I got to boink her, so that's cool," she says.
A little after 2 p.m., the first scene is in the can. It stars Sandy and Gunn, who shot the scene himself; he pointed the camera toward his own lap so that only Sandy's head shows. He says he rarely appears in his own movies.
As Patrick and Sandy leave to get a sandwich, the next couple arrives. Peter ("no last name") is a muscular, 37-year-old personal trainer from West Palm Beach. He has a goatee, long black hair tied in a pony tail, and a tattoo of braided rope around each bicep. Peter picks up work in adult films and magazines whenever he can. "I like the freedom," he says. "We do things normal people don't get to do." But, he adds, "People don't realize that it ain't that simple. It's actual work; it's not sex."
Today his job involves sex with his fiancée, a slender, leggy, 23-year-old blonde by the stage name of Robyn Foster. Though she's appearing in full closeup in Gunn's movie and has worked in 25 to 30 other adult films, Robyn is publicity shy. She's from Palm Beach County and worries her parents might recognize her should her picture appear in New Times. Then there's the fact that she's a student teacher at an area elementary school, and her acting career probably wouldn't sit well with school officials. Why risk it at all? "You usually get paid on the spot," she says. "Instant gratification is nice."
Robyn sits cross-legged on the bed while Gunn prepares for the scene. After a few minutes of fiddling with the lights and readying his cameras, he's ready to shoot stills for the box cover. He orders her to stand at the end of the bed. "Open your top a little," he instructs.
"I don't do that," she says with a smile full of sin as she tugs on the oversize chrome zipper.
He snaps away. "Now undo your top completely. That's sexy."
There's a problem. Robyn's implant ruptured a few weeks ago and she's developed a dime-size sore on the side of her right breast that oozes blood and saline solution. She's not in pain but does have to excuse herself periodically to go to the bathroom and wipe up the leakage.
After a few minutes, the stills are in the can and Robyn is ready to work. "What are we doing?" she asks Gunn.
"You both walk in from outside, and he asks you to suck his dick," says Gunn, trading his still camera for his digital video one.
"Oh gee, how original," Robyn says playfully.
Peter and Robyn walk out, close the door behind them, open the door 30 seconds later, and walk back in. They follow Gunn's direction as he crawls around them like an intent used-car buyer, poking his video camera in every nook and cranny. He shoots high angles, low angles, over Peter's shoulder, between Robyn's legs, always making sure that the camera catches her left side or that her hair covers her breast and hides the sore.
Small problems crop up during the shoot. After ten minutes of filming have elapsed, Peter complains of a headache and asks if anyone in the room has an aspirin. (No one does.) Then, while standing, he says the ceiling fan is making his butt cold. (Gunn turns it off.) In the midst of filming an extreme closeup, Gunn sneezes violently. Robyn is startled -- she jerks her head from her fiancé's lap and screams. ("That's a mood breaker," Peter comments.)
Meanwhile the air conditioner hums and traffic whizzes by on A1A. Just outside the closed back door, which leads from the kitchenette onto a dingy patio, a man and woman argue about liquor and money. "I'm not even that drunk yet," the woman says, "not nearly."
After 45 minutes Gunn gets his money shot. He instructs the couple to hold their pose until he can switch cameras again. "OK," he says finally, "that's it." And it's a wrap.