Being a pornographer is not always easy when your carefully chosen house boy keeps on distracting you with his oversized manhood. There I am, Jean-Marc Prouveur, sitting on my couch in my lovely home in the Auvergne reading postcards from my favourite porn stars and trying to imagine through their lurid tales the sexual cavorting they get up to from as far as Spain, Poland, England and other exotic locations while this pest of a houseboy, Damian, plonks himself in front of me and begins to beat his humongous tool rather than tend to the desolate garden. Pornographer gets angry like everyone else and so do I. But I have to admit that, as I read the postcard from my lover, Henry Fleischmann and of his wicked tale of seduction with a handsome electrician, it is of Damian that I think. I have sent him away; you and I have to find out what he is up to.
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