South Texas Friendly

by Rich Moreland, February 2013

The Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas sometimes reminds me of an Alfred Hitchcock film. The hero (or heroine) is inundated with sanity breaking stimuli in a world that is firing at a million miles per hour. The rush and demands coming from all sides like scud missiles can punish anyone’s nerve endings.

Needless to say, with its crowds and hectic scheduling, the annual convention tries the patience of everyone in the business.

I get flustered for another reason. I’m directionally challenged. That’s a polite way of confessing that I get lost with little effort.  When I go on long cycling rides with my buddies, for instance, I remember our routes using landmarks. Everyone else depends on road signs. If someone brings along a map (or a GPS nowadays), that is of no consequence to me. Just tell me to make a right turn at the big oak tree.

Little wonder that when I arrive at the Hard Rock Hotel Complex on this cool and sunny January morning, I need directions. Never mind that I was here last year!

Its media day and my photographer and I are picking up our badges so we can roam the premises, locate booths and kiosks for future reference, and, if we’re lucky, network. He’s new to the biz and the Hard Rock. Bill has a nose for airport navigation, I just follow him. But this is supposed to be my territory and I don’t want to aimlessly wander from one corridor to another trying to figure things out. The posted map at the entrance is meaningless to me, despite the Hard Rock’s good intentions.

So, it’s time to ask for simple directions with hopefully only a turn or two.

I should add that I believe opportunity comes and goes all the time. On this occasion, it shows up in spades.

Going through the first set of double doors that I’m guessing is the right direction, I spot a blonde leaning against the wall across the hallway. She appears to be taking a break from a maddening schedule that is on her mind, but not yet reality. Understand that my radar is set for porn girls. I’ve been around enough that I can spot them easily, not to mention that this is convention central. The thing about this woman is her manner and appearance. For lack of a better description, let me rely on my Hollywood movie preferences.

Like the femme fatale in a film noir of the forties, she walks into the detective’s office and Sam Spade says, “This dame has class. She can melt an ice-cube at forty feet with a wink of her baby blues.”

Daisy Layne Photo courtesy of Rick Garcia

Daisy Layne
Photo courtesy of Rick Garcia

Any graphic cliché is trite because it can’t match the vibes the blonde throws out. But I need something, so here are old standbys: statuesque, imposing, sensuous.

But, the best is approachable—tight jeans, stilettos, blue cowl neck top, and braless, notwithstanding. She’s 5’8” without the heels, is my guess.

In my school days I would never have walked up to such a girl. But I have more moxie now, plus I possess wordsmith power. Flash the badge and hope for an interview. But this moment is sans badge, so I whip out a business card and depend on my feeble persuasion skills.

By the way, there’s a six foot five, two hundred pounder, hanging close by. They’re obviously together, but he’s giving her space. Got to respect him for that, I think I can say ‘hello’ without any hassle.

In the porn world, girls sometimes have intimidating guys around to intervene if necessary and I don’t blame them. Some fans can be fawning, not to mention stalkingly rude. Just because she does porn does not mean she’s everybody’s baby. These girls deserve more credit than that, it’s a business.

I quickly find out her name is Daisy Layne and what I’m about to get with my directions is south Texas friendly.

I meet all kinds of people doing my journalistic thing, but Daisy is not just “all kinds of people.” She’s an exception. In an instance I like her, I really do. We chat as if old friends from way back and arrange for a later interview.

I love opportunity and it is knocking loudly right now. To quote Humphrey Bogart in Casa Blanca as he walks into the fog with Claude Rains, “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

    *          *          *          *          *

Two days later I’m waiting for my 10 a.m. interview with Daisy. We had exchanged emails and arranged to meet at Girlfriends Films. I talked with Dan O’Connell the previous day and feel more than welcome at Girlfriends. Coincidently, Daisy shoots for the company.

Dan and I are chatting a bit while the clock is giving away minutes. It’s after ten and no Daisy. Not at all unexpected, by the way. During this convention week girls don’t get much sleep with late night parties integral to their schedules. She’ll show up.

Dan offers to give Daisy a call and with apologies for her tardiness, she arrives within minutes. I’m relieved and will not forget Dan’s favor. I avoided sending a text and the appearance of being pushy. Thanks, Dan.

Daisy and I find a quiet spot and I pull out the recorder. Dick, that’s Daisy’s husband who is never far away, falls into conversation with Bill and the next hour flies by. Dick Chibbles and Daisy are a team, a rarity in adult film, and support each other.

In fact, the fascinating story of how Daisy ended up in adult film is related to her love for her hubby. It’s coming, no porn pun intended, with my next post.

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