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An excerpt from my most up-to-date publication: “The Hand Print”:
That scene would star Jenna and a properly-acknowledged male porn star named T. T. Boy, a brief, pugnacious performer with a lantern jaw and a long-lasting scowl who reminded me of a significantly less-vibrant Patrick Bateman. (“Within the business enterprise, he is acknowledged as an untiring performer,” T. T. Boy’s Wikipedia web site touts. “In a 2015 interview, he said that in excess of the course of his career, he has slept with in excess of 10,000 gals.”) I understood who T. T. Boy was right before I arrived for the reason that I experienced read through about him in the web pages of The New Yorker. In 1995, Susan Faludi had prepared about the suicide of a male porn star named Cal Jammer, and during her investigation in the San Fernando Valley, her route 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 existence-support process for a penis.” I located this evaluation to be about suitable. He was scaled-down than me, brooding, coiled as if looking for an excuse to do a thing to anyone—it did not seriously subject what or who, no matter whether it was battling or fucking. Perhaps it was all the identical to him.
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