Array Seka - Inside Seka

The looping was also done with the sound. Again, the same thing happens in mainstream films. Actors go in later and overdub their voices in sections where the sound guy didn’t pick up what they were saying loudly and clearly enough. They do it in a fancy recording studio with the film playing on a screen so the actor can match his or her voice perfectly to the movement of their lips.

Us? After we’d shoot a scene, the sound guy would pull us to the side and say, “Groan for me,” or “Give me some dirty talk.” We did it right then and there, two feet from where we’d just been filming. There was no video playback. It was all generic. Worse, it was so inauthentic. Sure, we’d be directed to make fuck sounds while we were humping away, but at least there was still a chance we’d lose ourselves in the moment and there’d be some realism to it. But imagine standing in a bathrobe with a sound guy and saying, “Ooo, yeah. That’s it. Give it to me baby!” It was more sterile than phone sex. You had no one and nothing to play off of.

I was never around when they edited these things, but some of the people who did that job must have been stoned off their asses. John Holmes would be buried deep down my throat and I’d still be talking. What was I, a ventriloquist?! It was preposterous — and hilarious. But people watching porn must not have cared, or else they accepted that we were the only game in town. If someone came along and did things with a higher budget, they might have put a ton of companies out of business, but there was too much money to be made doing it on the cheap.

Sometimes when I see a loop I was in, not only can I tell the sound isn’t synced up, I question whether it’s even my voice. There’s often no consistency. Hell, they might use my voice in a Vanessa del Rio scene and Vanessa’s in one of mine. But who knew and who cared? It was crazy.

If I ruled the world I would have taken greater care when it came to these sorts of things, but if you put me on the spot and made me defend the way it was, my answer would be, “Why are you watching this stuff in the first place? To get off! So if you’re watching it to check if the sound is synced up, or the bodies always match, or the camera shots are repeated, we must be doing a piss-poor job of getting you excited!” The genre does not exist for film critics. It serves a societal purpose of helping people masturbate, or couples get hot and get down.

This raises the question, “Did you watch your own movies?” The answer is yes, the dialogue parts. To me, that part was cool. I was pretending to be an actress. I never considered myself an actress — I was a performer — but when most of my clothes were on and I was talking, acting is what you would call it. I could fantasize I was on Charlie’s Angels or something like that. That was the sort of fantasies I had when I watched my movies.

But the sex scenes? I was never comfortable watching them. They made me bashful. Ironic, I know. I had no problem doing it, but don’t force me to watch it later. I could watch other people’s scenes, just not my own. I was too critical of myself. I was critical of my dialogue scenes too, but that was in order to improve. But with my sex scenes, it was more a case of, “When I turn that way, my stomach creases and I look fat,” or garbage like that. What the hell was I going to do about that kind of stuff? If the director said, “Turn this way,” it wasn’t like I was going to start arguing with him because it might not be perfectly flattering for me. I wasn’t that much of a control freak. So if one of my movies is playing, I leave the room when my sex scenes come on, and then come back when someone else is doing it.

Porn sex and real-life sex have little in common, but that is less true today because of the movies we made. The pulling out and cumming on a girl’s tits or face? If someone did that to me in real life back in the seventies, I’d have killed him. The dirty talk — when Ken did that to me, I hated it. But today, because of our films, guys and girls do that stuff all the time. I don’t know if we should be thanked for that or chased out of town with a pitchfork.

Anal. Now every guy tries to get anal sex from a girl. Back in the day, it was a more exotic and rare thing. We took it mainstream.

Do I like anal? No. Did I do it? Yes, it paid more. I’ve always considered that hole a one-way street leading out. But an anal scene paid $200 more, which for me, back in the day, meant a lot. Of course, here’s another trick of movie magic: it never lasted very long. If ever there was a time when they’d cut and splice film together, it was in anal scenes. Most of the girls felt as I did about it, so while we’d take the extra money, we’d only have the guy up there for two or three minutes or so, which would be looped and made into double or triple that time for the viewer. Two hundred bucks for three minutes of discomfort, back then, didn’t seem like too bad a deal. Even so, I rarely did it. Most days I simply wasn’t in the mood. Well, actually, I was never in the mood, but some days more than others. There may have been one or two girls who actually enjoyed it, but otherwise, the ones who did it more were just more prone to being short on cash.

I’m not into pain. That’s why I never did bondage or S&M. Being a tall girl with big tits and that severe look of mine I would have been a natural for those sorts of films, but you can only simulate pain just so much. I wasn’t taking a bunch of smacks to the ass or clamps on my nipples — no way, no how, no matter how much money was involved. Furthermore, since it was so against my nature, I was never a good enough actress to pretend I was into it.

There were a few actors who really did get off on that type of scene and I would sometimes watch their films or watch them do it live. It would be like watching a car wreck: you didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help yourself. So long as I knew they weren’t doing it against their will, I would be fascinated, wondering how they were wired that this sort of thing turned them on. I almost wanted to yell, “Cut!” and go up to them and ask them about it. It intrigued me. But it wasn’t for me.

Girl/girl was pretty much mandatory. If you didn’t do girl/girl back in the seventies and eighties, you might as well not get into the business.

Quite frankly, I didn’t know anything about girl/girl sex before I started doing porn. I’d never been with another girl before. But it wasn’t unappealing to me because women are beautiful, sexual beings. They’re sensuous. So the idea didn’t offend me. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I must have been pretty good at it because all the girls I worked with got off. I figured, who is going to know better what a woman wants than another woman? I just did what I liked done to me. It was the Golden Rule.

I enjoyed it. It’s not a lifestyle choice where I did it and decided I was a lesbian or anything — not that there would have been anything wrong with that. And yes, after trying it on-screen, I did it off-screen as well. I’m not gay, though; I like guys still. I wouldn’t marry a woman and have a committed relationship with one where I never had sex with a man ever again. But having sex with a girl is fun. I don’t know if that classifies me as bisexual, but I wouldn’t correct anyone if they accused me of that. I have no clue and I really don’t care. Labels are worthless.

Did we fuck people we didn’t want to? In my case, no. I might not have been crazy about John Leslie on a personal level, but once I set limits with John we were able to do scenes together. Sometimes, I used how I really felt about him in the scene. I’ve heard people refer to that as “hate fucking,” though hate might be too strong a word for John and me.