Array Seka - Inside Seka

When Patrick referred to it as “our house,” I corrected him, firmly. Things went downhill awfully fast. I wasn’t too polite to anyone who walked through the door, which was not doing his business much good. Ultimately, I would get disgusted and pick myself up and leave my own place.

One day, I looked at him and simply said, “I want a divorce.”

I went to my lawyer and told him what I’d done and he said, “Oh my God, what’s wrong with you?”

I replied, “I’m crazy; what do you want from me?”

Patrick truly thought he was in love and told me he’d contest the divorce. He was using a lot and was in just as bad a condition as I was, for my partying had gotten way out of control, although I never had a desire to deal. Too dangerous. Soon after, Patrick was summoned to my lawyer’s office, where I had all the papers ready to be signed. But he said, “I’m not signing them.”

I lost it. I angrily stormed over to him, picked him up, and literally threw him against the wall. When I’m angry, it gives me crazy strength.

“Sign the papers or I’m going to break your fucking legs!”

He said, “You’re threatening me. You’re threatening me and we’re in front of lawyers.”

“They’re my lawyers, dumb ass, and I’m paying them. Do you think they’re going to squeal on me?”

So he signed.

And just like that the marriage was over. The whole thing lasted six weeks and we were in each other’s company for about three.

It was one of the things that made me realize I needed to get straight, and fast. The next time I saw him, we bumped into each other on the street and he had grown a beard, gained about fifty pounds, and just looked terrible. I barely recognized my ex-husband.

I’d left XXX films, I did the stripping thing for a while, I still did the Club magazine work and the mail order business, but funds were dwindling. My opulent lifestyle was eating up all my cash, but I didn’t want to give it up without a fight.

The film business never stopped calling me. My videos were still the rage. Other, younger stars had come along, but my name continued to bring in audiences and sales. Instead of just saying no, I kept up my game of asking for far too much money, as well as so many other conditions, in order to make them hang up the phone. But while AIDS lingered as a concern, other factors kept teasing me to come back. Sure, money was number one, but other things, such as creative control, played in my head. So long as they still knew I could make them money, the industry seemed willing to give me a wide berth if I ever wanted back in.

I decided to make my own movie. It was a challenge. It was almost like giving birth.

In that era, I can’t remember any woman but Gail Palmer raising money, writing, directing, editing, and getting a distribution deal before the first inch of film was shot. But it was something I needed to — and somehow knew I could do.

I started writing Careful, He May Be Watching while I was traveling quite a bit with Barbara. She knew the lawyers to go to in order to draw up the agreements, and the people we needed to raise money from.

I wrote it out in longhand on a legal pad, as I didn’t really know how to put it into script format. For that, I hired Richard Pacheco, whose real name is Howie Gordon. He was an actor I had worked with and I really liked him a lot and still do. He was one of the few guys in the business I felt was extremely sensitive. Even though he got paid to get a hard-on on demand, he personally wasn’t a hard-on. I was even friendly with his wife and kids. He always had a tablet with him and would be writing something, so I knew he was the right man for the job.

I gave the plot a little twist — something I had not seen or heard before in XXX. I played both leading ladies: a blonde named Jane Smith, and a redhead named Molly Flame. Jane was an ordinary housewife and Molly a porn star. And they both liked to watch adult films. It turned on Jane’s husband, an airline pilot, whose favorite porn star was Molly. What he didn’t know was that Molly was actually his wife, because I wore a red wig and dyed my pubes red to match the red hair. As was my philosophy, the carpet always has to match the drapes. In the scenes with Jane, my pubes were blonde. Come to think of it, that may have been the first and last time that’s ever happened in any movie, period. Hell, today’s adult stars barely even have pubes at all, except for maybe a little landing strip.

After a few years off, I worried about my looks. Mainstream actresses battle aging, but can rely on lots more tricks than we ladies who go naked all the time. Nudity is unforgiving.

One of the things that set us apart back in my day from the adult films of today was our natural bodies. When you saw someone like me or Kay Parker, really busty gals, we were all real. No implants, please! No ass implants, no big collagen blowjob lips, no nothing. And people could tell, especially after the passage of time when our films are compared to more modern fare. Most of the implant girls never even try to look real and natural. That’s when we really get appreciated by the guys who considered themselves porn connoisseurs. Still, as we age… lemma tell ya, big boobs follow the laws of gravity. They drop like wages in a recession. I also have to compensate when I step on a scale. I carry around forty pounds of boobage.

I was never a purist, per se. I will not rip on girls for getting work done. But I had a different challenge. People had certain expectations about my body. My body was my signature. My pride was that I didn’t want to have anything done where fans would say, “Oh look, she had her boobs done. They’re larger now and they’re up around her neck.” If I was to have anything done, it would be for maintenance sake only. If a doctor couldn’t make me look the same as I always looked, I wasn’t interested.

Some girls go in with the best of intentions, but the doctors screw up and they come out looking like Outer Space Barbie. I shopped around and shopped around. I knew I needed help — my knockers were speeding toward my knees.

I had my babies lifted — not enlarged, just lifted. A few years later, I had to do it again. Finally, on round three (long after Careful ), I got them raised again (I treat them like a draw bridge), along with a face lift and a tummy tuck. I go to doctors today and they’re amazed at how good a job my surgeons did. They have to search all over me to find even the slightest hint of a scar anywhere. As natural-looking as can be. My breasts still hang down as large natural breasts tend to do. When I lie on my back, they splay out toward my armpits rather than reaching for the ceiling like they have magnets in the nipples. Again, if I never told anyone, no one would ever know, which is the whole idea… until now.

Being a woman, I wanted to make the film a little more romantic than standard adult fare, but for commercial purposes I realized I had to appeal to the hardcore audience and make it hot as well.

Mike Horner played my husband because he looked like the airline pilot-type — very Superman-ish and extremely clean cut. He was a nice guy and I wanted to work with him. What was great about running my own show was I didn’t have to reject anyone. I just cast people I liked and respected on a personal level. And those who I knew could do the job.

Shanna McCullough was also in the movie and I loved her. She was very pretty and lollipop sweet. But when you needed her to be nasty, she could be a hot little girl. I think it gave a lot of depth to her character — to appear one way and be able to completely turn it around.

There’s also a scene where Shanna plays an airline stewardess and one of the passengers is Whoopi Goldberg’s mother. Howie knew Whoopi very well and he made the introduction. Whoopi was a complete unknown at the time. She asked me to send her demo tape to my agent friend, Sy Sussman, to get her started. A week later, Mike Nichols signed her to her one-woman show on Broadway and the rest is history.