by Gale Stanley
Casey Cox is a porn star legend. Life is a never-ending party and there’s always a hot guy or two willing to play. Then Casey meets the one man who isn’t interested and suddenly it’s a challenge he can’t resist.
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I stared at my reflection in the mirror and gave myself an eight out of ten. All those late nights were finally taking a toll. Would I give them up? Hell no! Life was a never-ending party, and the guest list changed every day. I liked it that way. Variety is the spice of life after all.
But right now, I needed to do damage control. I read somewhere that the eyes are the mirror of the soul. If that was true then my soul must be puffy, wrinkled, and bloodshot. It wasn’t a good look. Thank God for eye drops. A few in each eye made my whites pop. I practiced my sultry green stare in the mirror. Not bad, but the bags had to go. I reached for the Preparation H and applied it liberally. My sister swears by the stuff.
I’d showered and shaved at home, but my hair needed a redo. My trademark look is a messy bedhead, black locks flying every which way. I don’t like to disappoint the fans and it’s easy enough to get the look. It’s all about a good haircut and a few styling tricks, like gel.
I stepped back from the mirror to check out my body. No problems there. Six feet, two inches of lean muscle thanks to an exercise routine that keeps me camera ready. No matter how late I go to bed, I wake up early and use the small gym in my apartment building. A good workout always makes me feel better. Today, we’re shooting early, so I did a short routine, just long enough to break a sweat and get my blood pumping. Then it was SSME, and I’m not talking kinky sex. Shower, shave, moisturize, enema. I like to be clean for the close-up shots.
Yeah, I bare it all, but it’s all for the sake of art. I’m not kidding. One of my first jobs when I came to LA was as an artist’s model. At first, because of my strict upbringing, I was uncomfortable posing nude, but eventually I realized that the human body is a beautiful thing. It was a liberating experience.
Today, I’ve convinced myself that filming is an art form. There are thousands, maybe millions of guys out there staring at my naked body. What I do prompts an emotional response and gives them pleasure, just like other art forms. Art is in the eye of the beholder, after all. It’s one hell of an ego trip.
Check out all the books in the Roosters series:
Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.
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