Free Girlvert: A Porno Memoir by Oriana Small Page A

gram of cocaine, too. Tyler was thrilled about being able to keep hard and do coke all night. It was a new discovery, yet another drug Tyler could not get enough of.

Chapter Nine
    Ecstacy Dealers?
    T aking ecstasy was one of our favorite ways to party. Tyler and I convinced ourselves that it was helping our relationship. We’d heard somewhere that the history of the ecstasy pill originated with couple’s sex therapy. We said it made us stronger and was something we could share to become more intimate. For whatever bullshit reason, we took that drug regularly. It did make me more open to the double anal and double penetration going on at home, but that isn’t exactly couple’s sex therapy.
    Ecstasy made us into emotional idiots. For every night of “ecstasy” there was at least a week of intense depression, but that did not dissuade us. While cocaine made me numb and powerful, ecstasy was a “feel-good” high, all about sharing and equality. I wanted everyone else to feel good on ecstasy, too.
    What money we didn’t spend on coke went into the pill fund. Even before the porno started, Tyler and I would foolishly buy “E” pills with what little money we had to spare. I remembered simpler days when Tyler and I were so broke that we lived off of frozen edamame and ice cream. That is when you really feel in love for the first time, when you’re poor. We had nothing but each other for comfort and entertainment. It was a beautiful time.
    Now we had all of this money. Overnight, we had instant success in the porno business and could buy as many drugs as we wanted. We were still young and had our looks, too. The party never had to end.
    There were many different people who sold us drugs. Tyler always found someone with stuff for sale. He was like a divining rod in a crowd. His inner coke-fiend would gravitate to whoever had anything for sale. This boy had no shame, no bashfulness about asking as many people for drugs as he needed to in public, even in broad daylight. We would be at our favorite bars, like Birds or The Cat & Fiddle, and Tyler would be hitting up random people for coke. I used to be embarrassed when he would walk right up to strangers and ask, “Hey man, do you party?” Time after time, Tyler’s charm prevailed. I had to hand it to him.
    One of our dealers was this scrawny dude named Jay-Jay who hung out at Perversion, the Thursday gothic-industrial nights at Club World. This was the first club I ever went to when I turned eighteen. I was there almost every weekend, dancing to eighties music and looking for guys to fuck before Tyler had entered my life.
    Jay-Jay never wore a shirt. He didn’t need to. His chest, back and arms were completely littered with tattoos. He always had a backpack. Anyone sporting a backpack at a club sells drugs. You can spot them a mile away. Jay-Jay liked us. We bought pills from him every weekend. We had such a reliable reputation for buying that Jay-Jay would extend us a line of credit when we ran out of cash for the night.
    After buying six pills off of Jay-Jay one night and taking them all, Tyler had a plan. “Hey, these pills are really good, these new ones he has now. We should buy what he has left and sell them ourselves. To our own friends.” Tyler’s attempt to be business savvy. We were going to invest our porno money in the ecstasy market.
    “I don’t know. What if we get caught?” I had issues with dealing. It crossed a line. Doing them and ruining my own life was one thing. Selling them to ruin other people’s lives was immoral.
    “Listen Ori, I know how to do it. I’ve sold drugs lots of times. I sold hash when I lived in Barcelona. When I was in high school, I sold acid to seventh graders,” he proclaimed, as if that made it okay.
    “What? You sold drugs to little kids?” I had to chuckle to hide my disgust. “That’s awful.”
    “It wasn’t real acid. I just took postage stamps and dipped them in Drano. These dumb kids down the street would buy