I’m not sure whether to be aroused or confronted by what’s happening in front of me.
There are three naked women on the bed.
One is on her back writhing theatrically, as a second – a redhead with large perky breasts outlined in tattoos – plunges a bright pink strap-on dildo into her, allowing her hips to be guided by a third woman kneeling behind her.
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“Okay, stop. We need to redo that bit,” interjects a man's voice from the other side of the room.
Zero, as he prefers to be called, is directing the sex unfolding before us.
Every moan, back arch, and "Mmm... you like that, don't you?" has been choreographed and rehearsed as if it were a dance routine. And in some ways, it is. Because the three women going to town on each other aren't here for pleasure. They're here for work.
Work that's not legal in many Australian states, and will almost certainly have us banned from the hotel it's going down in if we're not incredibly discreet.
But that's not the most scandalous thing about it. At least not for me.
I've been granted access to some pretty taboo places in my job as a sex columnist – organised orgies, brothels, and luxe apartments where women go to pay men for sex – so my gauge of what's strange or exciting is probably a little different to most people's.
What's most surreal about this experience, is the fact I'm here as a porn consumer myself.
Though I've never been under any illusion the stuff I get off to is "real", witnessing the mundane mechanics behind it is an odd experience.
The morning is consumed with paperwork; the performers all exchange recent STI test results, and sign contracts stating which sex acts they will and won't do, right down to how many fingers they're comfortable having inserted into various orifices.
There's a more detailed discussion around boundaries and consent in the first 20 minutes I'm there than I've had with a sexual partner in my life.
And this is reassuring to witness, especially in the wake of PornHub's 2020 purge, which saw the adult content behemoth remove over 10 million videos from its site after a New York Times investigation revealed it had disseminated content featuring underage and sex-trafficked people.
"It's a myth all porn sets are creepy places where sleazy directors pressure women into doing things they're not comfortable with," Zero tells me.
"Sex workers are some of the most respectful, sexually literate, consent-focused people you'll ever meet. We often spend more time talking about f**king than we do actually f**king!" he laughs.
Of course, it helps that the performers on this shoot work for themselves, so retain ownership of their content, which is aligned with the way "ethical porn" (porn made consensually and respectfully, with fair pay for performers and filmmakers) works. It means they can sell the end product via their independent websites and platforms like OnlyFans, where they have control over pricing and distribution.
This makes me feel a whole lot less icky about my porn consumption, but I'm unsure I'll be able to look at an X-rated flick the same way again. It's impossible to maintain the fantasy when it's juxtaposed with a three-point lighting set-up and a guy watching everything through a viewfinder with the nonchalance of someone photographing a landscape.
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Frankly, taking landscape photography would be less tedious than sitting through this entire shoot. There are so many retakes, lighting adjustments and water breaks, that I lose focus and begin daydreaming about what I'm going to eat for lunch.
By the time the performers are preparing to film the final scene – the compulsory cumshot – I've already stolen away to the pub down the street (and not just because I could think of nothing I'd rather do less than watch a man who's waited days to ejaculate in preparation for this moment, blow his load everywhere).
When I return, everyone is reclining in the living room area, drinking wine in their underwear, and chatting like old friends.
"How was it?" I ask the performers.
"It was great! Very hot," says Gia, the redheaded woman with hypnotically perfect tits.
"Did you come?" I press.
There's a short silence followed by schoolgirlish giggling, then Sasha, another woman, answers, "No, we usually fake that bit. I don't come when I'm working. But Zero came!"
Zero comically shrugs his shoulders and the group erupt into laughter.
"Isn't that sexually frustrating for you?" I press.
"Not always. I mean, it can be. Sometimes if I'm not busy after a shoot, I'll go home and use my vibrator," Gia smirks.
It hasn't escaped me that, despite all the production value – the bountiful breasts, careful staging and horny dialogue – even on a porn set, where fantasies are brought to life, a woman is still leaving to finish the job on her own.
And, as it turns out, that’s probably the most confronting thing I've witnessed all day.
Nadia Bokody is a queer sex columnist, YouTuber and professional over-sharer who still fantasises about what she’s going to eat for lunch. Follow her on Instagram for more.
Feature Image: Getty/Instagram @nadiabrokody.