The Butt Double

He takes me from behind, grabbing my ass and rhythmically pounding into me in slick, steady strokes. His fingers dig into my flesh. My hair is loose and damp, as sweat drips down my nipples, shining along my porcelain flesh. He grabs my hair and I let out a soft moan as my neck lolls back. “Get up” he commands. He pulls me up on my knees, and wraps his muscular arm around my torso, proceeding to gently nibble on my ear. His breath on my neck sends a quivering sensation down my spine. His hands slip down my stomach, and my body tingles as his hands go further, my eyes rolling back. He pushes me back down to all fours and slaps my buttocks hard. Wet, throbbing penetrations, he’s driving himself harder into me. I’m whining with pleasure and he’s breathing hard. He slaps me again and moans as he increases the rhythm of the penetrations, jerking himself back and forth, rough and hard. His muscles clench. Body tingling, genital swelling, he grunts with orgasmic release, “I’m gonna come so hard for you.” 

“Ok, CUT!!” The director yells. “Nice work everyone, let’s pick up from the top of 31. We need Vik’s closeup. Let’s test out some shots. GARY!”

I let out a sigh as I sit up, stretching my sore arms and taking the pillow out from under my legs. Next to me, Vik King, Hollywood A-lister, wipes some of the real sweat from his forehead, and rubs out the kink he’s been having in his neck. We go to sit in our respective folding chairs on set as a huddle of busy bodies come running towards us. Makeup goes to dote on Vik, gently touching up his gorgeous face with dabs of foundation and delicate spritzes of water. Wardrobe hands me a robe and I wrap myself in it. Dozens of crew members shout various cues back and forth to each other moving camera equipment, dollies and rolling cranes, swarming about the set like a sea of black flies, while the director, indomitable and fierce Jane Willis, walks around to various DP’s giving notes about the shots.  

No, I’m not having hot, aggressive sex with dreamy, Scandinavian superstar Vik King. Instead, I’m sitting fully naked in a bright studio in front of 150+ crew members. Fully nude, except for a skin toned, half-thong “genital guard” that barely covers my vagina. The adhesive, pantyhose-thin layer of protection has been attached to my vaginal area wrapping up to my lower back with latex glue. Vik is also naked, except for his flesh toned “modesty pouch,” a thin sock-like cover with a drawstring on top to keep it fixed, over his penis. 

We have been filming this sex scene for the last 10 hours. 

I check my phone. It reads 10:39pm. I see a text from my best friend “Did you see his dick yet!? I need DETAILS!” I giggle and tuck away my phone as the intimacy coordinator, Colleen, approaches me.

“You’re doing great. There’s only a few more shots to go, mainly Vik’s coverage, so we’ll just get the backside of your body for this one. You can take a break when they get his closeups. Here, you can put on these silicone pasties since your breasts won’t be in these shots. They also reduce any sensation you might get for your safety. We’re gonna go over the choreography again in five, sounds good?” 

I head back to the “bedroom” with Vik, and get back on all 4’s on the bed with my ass up high. My arms shake a bit, but I try to remain poised. Vik does a few jumping jacks to pump up his muscles and gets behind me with a pillow propped between his pelvis. We practice out the new sequence of sex choreography. Jane is with one of the camera men, testing out different angles and giving us direction simultaneously.

“Ok… Vik can you inch a little bit more forward… a little more. And a bit more arch? Great. Jo, actually, can you tilt your butt a little more towards the camera.” With my face crammed uncomfortably into the pillow, I try to twist my butt a little more to the right while Vik bumps his pelvis clumsily behind me. A muscle in my lower abdomen I didn’t even know existed starts to cramp and all I can think about is what I want to order for dinner.  It is awkward, clunky, and the farthest thing from sexy.

“Great. YES. PERFECT. Money shot. DON’T MOVE, Cindy, put a mark there… alright everyone, places, and… ACTION!”

We do the choreography that we have rehearsed with Colleen countless times before. 10 slams from behind, slap ass, bite ear. Vik’s breath is a little bit ticklish behind my ear, and has a lingering hint of salami. At this moment, I’m thankful my face isn’t in the shot because I’m both wincing, and doing everything I can not to laugh or squirm. 

“CUT!!!  Guys, this is HBO not Disneyland we need to bring the SEX, the fire! Wardrobe more water, I need serious sweat this time. WET AND STEAMY. OK!? Vik, darling, those moans are unfuckable, I know you know how to fuck, make me drip over here. Jo, don’t change a thing, your butt looks great.” 

“Alright take 22, camera, rolling and…. ACTION”

Another hour goes by.  

The crew sets up for the final shot of the night, the closeup of Vik’s face during his orgasm. Since I’m completely out of frame, I get to watch his climax performance from behind the set. I sit in my robe on the sidelines with the director and several others in headsets watching the screens in front of them. They’re seeing what the cameras are picking up, and I have to say, it looks HOT. His chiseled face glistens in the light with perfect beads of sweat.

It definitely does not look as awkward as what I’m seeing just behind the screens. Vik is on his mark on the bed, straddling a pillow and grabbing another pillow in front of him that is meant to be my “ass.” He thrusts his pelvis against the pillow as he pretends to moan, quiver, and climax with a camera inches from his face.

“CUT!” Jane yells. “Vik, honey, it’s great, I’m just getting a bit of cabbage-patch-scrunchy face and not omg-this-girl-is-so-hot-i’m-going-to-fucking-come face, we need America to be writhing for you, let’s try again.”

Vik rolls his eyes, “Well, maybe if I was actually fucking a hot woman and not wearing a fucking pouch over my dick I’d be able to! FUCK.” 

The air in the room is immediately suctioned out like a vacuum. Vik King aka “The ViKing” storms off the set near where I’m sitting and shoos away anyone who tries to come talk to him. “JUST GIVE ME A FUCKING MINUTE.” GQ’s hottest man alive looks like a little boy on the verge of a breakdown.

“Ok you know what, FUCK this pouch.” Vik throws the flesh toned pouch off and confidently storms fully naked back onto the bed. “You want a believable orgasm, I’ll give you it.” 

And so, Vik King masturbates until climax in front of 150 people, on camera. Twice.

One year, and 6 months later.

I’m waiting in a 2 block line to purchase tickets for the opening day release of the hyped up Blockbuster Lust After Dawn.

Cabs honk left and right, and loudly whispered gossip from a group of millennials behind me create the bustling cacophony of a typical, New York symphony. “It’s supposed to be like True Blood meets Harry Potter meets 50 Shades of Grey. I heard they really went ballsy on nudity this time. I heard the acting was shit, I mean her voice makes me want to kill myself.”

Out of utter annoyance listening to the girls’ caddy Tik Tok voices for the last 30 minutes, a nearly exploding bladder, and also wearing the sash of Proud-Best-Friend, my ride-or-die Selina turns to the girls behind us and points to me. “Guess what. She’s IN the movie!” 

The girls freak out, “What!? NO WAY, that is SOOOO cool. Was it the most amazing thing ever?”

I smile. They have no idea. “Yeah, it was awesome.”

Sitting in the cinema with a bucket of popcorn, I watch what is easily the sexiest movie I have ever seen. Everything is perfectly edited and chopped, into a 2.5 hour steamy, sensual, love story with goal worthy sex. I swear the entire audience nearly orgasmed when Vik King climaxed on screen. 

People are simultaneously clapping and giggling as the credits roll, waving their hands to their face to cool down the heat they just witnessed. Vik King: Harvey Day, Evelyn Johnson: Daisy Jones. A minute or so goes by, Girl #4, Shopgoer #5, Stunts, they roll. And finally there it is. 

Evelyn Johnson Butt Double: Josephine Waters. 

“YEAHHHHH BABY, YOUR ASS IS FAMOUS!!” Selina yells next to me. My mom sits on the other side of me along with a posse of friends I have invited to come watch- my best friend from Columbia undergrad, some old co-workers from American Express, ladies from book club. They were all obsessed with the spicy bestseller Lust After Dawn when it came out 2 years ago, as was the rest of America. Anything for a hot dominatrix, vampires, and lots of sex, right? 

I remember when I saw the open call through an Instagram ad. Seeking: butt double for Evelyn Johnson, new box office hit. Project is under NDA. Must be 5’7 between 110-125 pounds, must be comfortable with nudity on screen. No acting experience required. 

For years, people have been telling me that Evelyn Johnson is my doppelganger. Omg-you-look-like-that-girl - “Evelyn Johnson,” I monotonously interject before they can finish their sentence. YES-that’s-IT! Their eyes light up like I’ve cracked the secret to the meaning of life. “Yup. I get it all the time.” 

I didn’t really think anything of it when I saw the ad other than hilariously absurd that one would even have to have a butt double. What does that even entail? I remember thinking. Weird.

But I was going through a period of stagnation in my life. Growing up, I did everything you were supposed to do. I played Varsity Women’s soccer and was Valedictorian of my high school. Completed 4 years of undergrad at Columbia and another 3 of grad school at NYU with 4.0 GPAs. Got a good job as a consultant at American Express and had a 6 year stable and comfortable relationship with a guy I met in undergrad. Everything was fine. 

Until it wasn’t.

I had heard about an opening at Etsy and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to apply. It was a big position. “VP Chief Marketing Officer: High-growth marketing executive who fuses sophisticated, data-driven marketing strategies with beautiful, emotional brand and product development to yield hyper revenue growth.” Now there’s a phrase that makes me tingle.

I imagine the email I received inviting me to interview with Sejal Shah, President of Brand at Etsy and Forbes 30 under 30 extraordinaire, was not dissimilar to an actor auditioning for a part they really want. Like my type A self, I spent hours preparing answers to possible questions she might ask.

The day of the interview, I signed onto ZOOM, Sejal Shah floating in a little rectangle in front of me, effortless, dazzling and oozing with sophistication and ease, even in a two-dimensional frame. She asked me a little bit about my background and then, The-Ever-Dreaded-Questions. What’s the last book you read? Where is the last meaningful place you visited? What do you like to do for fun? Completely taken off guard, I fumbled and said umm an unforgivable amount of times. 

The words she said at the end of the interview are forever branded in my brain. Your resume, your skillset, career, it’s all extremely impressive. However,  I don’t feel like I got a sense of your personality.. Who is Josephine? Unfortunately, we are looking for someone with a bit more… life experience. 

My heart sinks to the hellish pits of my abdomen. 

But she was right. Who is Josephine? I had lost my mojo. I was in a job I wasn’t thrilled about and an equally stale relationship that had over-extended its shelf life by about 3 years. I couldn’t come up with one thing I liked to do for fun. I’d be the first to leave a happy hour if I even showed up, hadn’t had sex in weeks, and my regular weekend chats with my mother always contained the phrase of encouragement “Oh Jo, go live a little.” 

Where did I go!? A creative badass running the Etsy marketing department should be whip smart and organized, but also should have a personality, creative ideas, ability to work with co-workers who don’t want to pull their teeth out talking to you. 

I vowed then and there to start doing things that scared me, bring back my fire. I immediately signed up for an improv class, and ordered 3 new books and a drawing kit from Amazon.

And there it was again. 

The ad pops up like a sign from the heavens. URGENTLY SEEKING: Evelyn Johnson butt double. I read all the requirements again. 

Ok… I’m 5 '7, 125 pounds, generally in shape.. I mean I do squats at the gym and grew up doing soccer... 

High off of my wave of ambition and a little tipsy from the 2 glasses of wine I’ve consumed post-complete-failure-abomindation-interview, I say … FUCK IT.

 “To life experience,” I cheers to the air. Probably nothing will even come of it. I take some pictures in a bikini, measure my girth and other weird parts of my body, and send it off into the black void.

2 weeks later, I’m in a tiny casting office slating my name in front of a camera. They measure every inch of my body and give me an NDA to sign. Evelyn Johnson walks in. “We found your girl,” they tell her. She shakes my hand. They give me a contract to sign which includes clauses like Must not change appearance or weight. Must be willing to gain/lose inches to match Evelyn Johnson’s proportions. And other absurdities. 

The days and hours are long and tedious. My call times are usually between 4-6am to prep hair and makeup. I spend the majority of hours in tiny dressing room with stained white walls that I share with various actors who come in and out of set such as “hot guy #4” who frequently did pushups in the corner, and “chic street-goer 3” who frequently left her tuna salad open for hours on end. I spend another large majority of time sitting on set in a robe with my silicone pasties and genital garments underneath, watching superstars Evelyn Johnson and Vik King, celebrities I’ve watched on the big screen for years, act on the flip of a switch, waiting on standby whenever needed. Whenever production has to block a scene or test out lighting, I swap out for Evelyn. Or when Evelyn’s face is not in the shot. Or to be her butt while being “fucked from behind.” 

But it was also incredibly inspiring. Seeing superstars, Vik King and Evelyn Johnson, gracious, prepared, humble and vulnerable. Every department, all world class humans working with such care, grace and camaraderie to serve the bigger picture in mind. 

Most people wouldn’t dream of doing the bitch work of a celebrity for $200 a day. But this is not a story about becoming a Hollywood star. Or even about the grueling and unglamorous things that happen behind the scenes to create the perfection we see in the movies.  It’s about a woman, finding her spark again after a long monotonous slumber. 

One day in late September of last year, I sat in Washington Square park reading The Alchemist. 

“One of my favorites,” the woman on the bench chimed in next to me.

“Oh yeah it’s incredible,” I looked up to see a familiar face. I immediately tensed up in my chest when I saw the sleek, satin suit and long black hair that was of Sejah Shah. 

“Josephine? Right? How are things going at Amex?”

“I actually quit. Kind of changing my life around. It’s a long story.” 

“I have time.”

I proceeded to tell her everything.

Fast forward to today.

Surrounded by friends and family, I’m staring into a cake in the shape of a big butt. Seilna threw me a post-premiere party to commemorate my first (and definitely last) acting debut. Flesh toned balloons line the walls and a big glittery banner that reads ASS-TASTIC floats above a large horderves table with a plethora of alcoholic beverages. A bunch of the girls have pasties and thongs over their clothes, laughing and dancing about. Holding a plastic cup that has been plastered with a printed cut out of Vik King’s face, my mother cheers’ me. “I’m so proud of you.”

A few weeks into shooting, I quit my job at Amex. I finally broke things off with my shitty boyfriend. I joined a recreational women’s soccer league. I had fake sex with Vik fucking King. Josephine Waters, your average working class New York nobody. And I have to say, my ass looked fiiiiine on screen.

I look down at my phone, the screen saver, a selfie of me and Evelyn Johnson on set. Tomorrow I’ll walk into the Etsy building, where I’ve been working for the last 6 months, and then have a cute date on the town with the delicious man I’ve been dating. I look at the incredible friends I have around me at my very own Butt-themed party. And I couldn’t be more happy. 

Sometimes you just gotta light the fire under your ass, I think, as I smile and blow out the candles.