To watch a porn movie be filmed and then to receive its DVD realization can be scary. What if the things I loved on set didn't make the final cut? Does the DVD capture my heady thrill at being so clinically close to the action? How do the sights, sounds, and smells of such a thing translate to a sterile digital format?

No one can say that porn performers do not work for a living. Many in the adult industry complain that porn stars are flaky, false, fucked up, and/or frigid, but when the Record button is pressed most stars are all business.

The Pussy Party series, which won AVN's Best All-Girl series this year, features a graduated progression of girl-on-girliness. First each participant masturbates, then couples get together, then the couples double up, and then the day ends with an eight-person competitive free-for-all.

I find solo scenes to be most problematic because that is where people look most affected. The only times I've ever masturbated for a camera were at a Gap dressing room and the Van Nuys DMV, and I wasn't aware of it. In Pussy Party, even the normally-unabashed (and eventual winner) Kami Andrews puts on a voice about an octave above how she sounds normally.

It is a lesson about who people are and what they think people like us want.

Missy Monroe was able to avoid sounding like she was putting on airs because I had just brought her a 12-pack of Guiness and she was delightfully sloppy. Sloppy in a bar girl in Angela's Ashes sort of way. Meowrr. (Producers PurePlay Media do not condone alcohol on their sets and had no knowledge of this transaction, let's just say.) And Vivian West had a certain arch world-weariness to her that was a little more immediate than the others', and which showed up in her solo scene.

As more partners were added, however, individual personalities began to manifest themselves in earnest. Kami and Missy were aggressive, Monica Sweetheart was submissive and demure, Brandi Wylde was glamorous, Amber Peach was shy but game.

Having sex on film, no matter how many times it is done in front of whichever kind of crew, looks tough. One has to shut off a part of herself that finds the process unnatural.

Pussy Party was successful in live and movie form because the atmosphere was very, very congenial. Cousin Stevie is a great host (though the subtitle "King Klit" makes me uncomfortable and sounds like something I'd pick up at Trader Joe's). A 63-year-old New York native, Stevie (his cousin is Seymore Butts) seems like he is having the time of his life. He has an earring. He flips off the camera. His lovely wife is supportive. His lechery has limits. He doesn't have the creepy gene.

The shoot was so much fun (the scholar can see me standing in the background looking like a bass player in a Doobie Brothers' tribute band...I'm thinking we could call ourselves Still the Ones) that I wanted to bus myself in as male talent. The movie might best be watched backward because it's good to open with a bang.