SEXIS WRONG

Nightstand to San Diego. He did his best to impress upon
me how very much I really needed him. He did it so well that
he succeeded. He promised timely delivery of damned near
anything I could ever think of wanting to see in manuscript
form in any quantity. Complete with photographs and scholarly
introductions suitable for reference in any First Amendment
court proceedings going on anywhere in the country.
He was good.
He was well underway during the mid-1960s establishing a
vast, complex pornography empire operating out of Guadalajara,
Jalisco, Mexico, with him as the head jefe and chief executive
in charge of accounts receivable. It honestly involved
a huge school of porno writers already in full operation, complete
with a student body ready and willing to do the down
and dirty on paper for a few pesos a day. Don had me flying
back and forth from San Diego to Guadalajara frequently,
smuggling in illegal typewriters. (And, on the side, we outfitted
an entire electrical workshop/classroom for the local Salvation
Army orphanage with all-smuggled equipment.)
At the time, the Mexican Customs people wouldn’t allow
tourists to bring any form of electrical appliance into the
country. Only commercial importing could be done at duty
fees frequently in excess of the retail price of the device in
the States. Vaguely similar machines, of a very low quality,
were for sale in Mexican stores at much higher prices than at
home. The only answer was…smuggle. It was a national pastime
for most expatriates. There were times when I would
be driving my Blazer to Guadalajara (a thirtysix-hour,
1,300-mile, two-driver, nonstop fun
run) with as much as $1,000 in small electrical
appliances hidden inside it and large stereo
speakers bolted into the floor as “my radio.”
Needless to say, anything of an erotic nature,
even copies of Playboy, was instant contraband.
Stag films, beat-off books, naked people
photo shoots, stuff like that, were all prohibited and had to be
smuggled in past the border inspection personnel.
During those smuggling trips and on other pretences when I
would be a houseguest of the Gilmores, I learned what true
luxury felt like. I could understand why literary agents would
fly to Guadalajara from New York City just to be Dr. Gilmore’s
houseguests. It became a mark of status to have been so
honored.
Walking down Gilmore’s wide, curving, fairy-tale staircase
like Rhett Butler coming directly from giving Scarlett a mercy
fuck, her pussy flavor still on his lips and inside his mustache
for later reviewing, tugging unconsciously at his periodpiece
trousers while buttoning up his fly. Those pants were
so tight and clingy, they were almost transparent; you could
see everything that Rhett was so proud of…a tiny smear of
afterlove clearly marking the place where his penis ended.
Or, it could be Carol Burnett doing Vivien Leigh wearing the
drapery gown and segueing into the Tarzan yell that bounced
around backstage a bit as the reel ended and the houselights
came up again.
On that movie-star staircase in Tara, walking tall and proud,
looking gracefully ahead, and taking in that unbelievable
40x40x20 library/living room was reward enough all by itself.
Yes indeed, I am the King of Pornography, and these are my
loyal subjects. All hail me! It looked like acres of oiled and
polished hardwoods in fifteen-foot-tall shelves filled in nice,
orderly fashion with expensive display books. A room to lust
after forever.
I seem to remember seven master bedroom suites alone,
plus numerous other single bedrooms in that huge, old mansion,
and that didn’t include the servants’ rooms on the third
floor that accommodated a large number of people all wearing
cute little matching uniforms. Someone’s ultimate dreams
come true….
Dr. Gilmore, as head instructor at Porno University, insisted
that all his students have the best typewriters to work with.
His choice was a portable electric Olivetti in a particular model.
None other would do. (While I preferred, and used for years,
a German portable Olympia.) Don would even occasionally fly
in the Olivetti repairman from San Diego to enjoy a luxurious
It honestly involved a huge school
of porno writers already in full
operation, complete with a student
body ready and willing to do the
down and dirty on paper for a few
pesos a day.
vacation, all at Don’s expense, just to keep those typewriters
in top running shape, pounding out the porno. Don certainly
had the house that would make any visiting dignitary think his
station in life had suddenly escalated an enormous amount.
All of this was before word processors or personal computers
made writing simple. You had to do it all on a typewriter
then, fortunately an electric one. Just imagine the number
and quality of manuscripts a true porno mill could turn out
with today’s computerized assistants. Thank God for copy
and paste, for find and replace…the contemporary author at
work.
Gilmore’s Guadalajara porno complex also was to contain
some elaborate sound stages with state-of-the-art recording
and lighting equipment (that never got off the drawing board),
BEAT OFF 101 233