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An excerpt from my most up-to-date publication: “The Hand Print”:
That scene would star Jenna and a perfectly-recognized male porn star named T. T. Boy, a shorter, pugnacious performer with a lantern jaw and a long term scowl who reminded me of a fewer-bright Patrick Bateman. (“Within the organization, he is recognized as an untiring performer,” T. T. Boy’s Wikipedia web page touts. “In a 2015 job interview, he mentioned that around the system of his career, he has slept with more than 10,000 women.”) I knew who T. T. Boy was in advance of I arrived mainly because I experienced read through about him in the pages of The New Yorker. In 1995, Susan Faludi had prepared about the suicide of a male porn star named Cal Jammer, and all through her investigation in the San Fernando Valley, her path experienced crossed with that of T. T. Boy’s. In her tale, she’d quoted a former male porn star who’d observed of T. T. Boy: “Basically, the person is a lifetime-assist procedure for a penis.” I found this assessment to be about right. He was more compact than me, brooding, coiled as if searching for an excuse to do a thing to an individual—it didn’t genuinely matter what or who, whether or not it was preventing or fucking. Probably it was all the similar to him.
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