By Andy Mannix
By Caleb Hannan
By Olivia LaVecchia
By CP Staff
By Aaron Rupar
By Jacob Wheeler
By Olivia LaVecchia
By Aaron Rupar
AS FAR AS I know, I've never met a porn star before. But hell--carpe diem. Chasey Lain is a face (among other anatomy parts) on more than 40 video boxes that I am familiar with after a two-year stint ringing up customers at a local adult gift shop, and Ms. Lain was in town last week making an appearance at the Coon Rapids Fantasy House, which is set back in a cozy strip mall next to the liquor store and across from the bank. This afternoon the parking lot is full of wrecked-looking men--some blushing, others staring dumbly at the ground, all of them holding on for dear life to their signed photos of Chasey.
The lines inside the store are long all day. Considering the crowds of men that pack the store, it is incredibly quiet: One hears every soft word that Chasey says. Dressed in a short pinstripe skirt, a black tank-top under which her giant breasts move with will of their own, and knee-high, stiletto-heeled leather boots, we are confronted with the sight of Chasey's leopard-print underwear each time she sits down at the signing trough. The routine for getting photographed with the star never changes; first she greets you, then tosses her long auburn mane around a few times, bends over fitting her rear end into your crotch, opens both her mouth and eyes disturbingly wide, then closes them a bit, and snap! The Polaroids are $10 a pop. "What's your name honey," she says in an accent that drunkenly veers between the Bronx and her native North Carolina. "What do ya want me to write? How 'bout, 'You make my pussy pucker'?" She laughs with the two beefy men who sit beside her and gets up to do it all again.
Interestingly enough, not one of the men I spoke with admitted to having seen any of the films in which Chasey is featured. "I just saw an ad," drawls one man; "A buddy brought me down here," winks another; "It was his birthday." Nevertheless, the crowd beams as one when someone asks her, "What's your favorite movie?" She smiles as she scans the shelf behind her, which is by now almost sold out of her videos and other related products (the various models of Chasey Lain rubber vaginas, including one with Chasey Lain panties, Chasey Lain Lube--"You Control Her Wet Excitement!"--and Chasey Lain cleaning solution, are particularly bizarre). "Um, I really like Interview with a Vibrator, Lethal Affairs, Chasey Saves the World, Chasey Loves Rocco, and Scrue," she says. I can't help but notice that these titles are the only ones left on the shelf.
The owner of Fantasy House is positively radiant as he tries to fix the overloaded credit-card machine, as are the reps from Vivid Video, the company to which Chasey is signed, who are busy stuffing bills into their own cash box. Everyone looks so damn happy that I almost expect Chasey to stand up and repeat the memorable closing lines from Chasey Saves the World, where she achieves the titular goal by sharing an earth-shaking orgasm with some demanding extraterrestrials: "I think we have every right to be proud. We defeated the enemy and saved the world with our sacrifice. We can all go home with certainty that we've won the battle for all mankind."
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