A Good Story is Worth Repeating: Conversations with Houston, “Tera Patrick Ruined My Book deal”

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Today Houston’s living high in the mountains. Back when she was an adult industry Hall of Famer, Houston, whose real name is Kim, was merely living high.

Later she was diagnosed with skin cancer, a game changer. Since then she’s been five years in remission.

Needless to say, a former sun worshipper, Houston stays out of the sun.

“I spray tan. I’m against the sun. I’m against smoking,” she laughs noting that she can’t wait for the fall weather when she can go out of doors again.

Among the many interesting facets of her amazing career, such as the infamous prom date with a high school kid named Brad which was documented on the Howard Stern show and the 620-man gangbang, Houston also details her experiences with drugs [particularly crystal meth] in her autobiography, “Houston Pretty Enough”.

However she’s quick to point out that it wasn’t porn per se which led to her slide into oblivion. It was access to a lifestyle that being a world renowned porn star availed her of.

[Supposedly she was making as much as $20,000 a week with strip club appearances. That’ll put temptation in your path.]

I got a chance to renew old acquaintances with her this past week, and Houston related the tough going she had in getting her book published. Basically she was told that Tera Patrick’s book was so bad, that publishing houses didn’t want to hear about another porn autobiography.

“I couldn’t finish it [Patrick’s book],” she relates with an obvious hairball in her throat.

“I was going to London last year. Jill Kelly and I are friends. She had read it and I said let me borrow it. I’m reading it and couldn’t finish it. It sucked.”

Houston’s agent sent her book out to the top publishers in New York. Rejections piled up with the common lament that because Patrick’s book tanked, they couldn’t take a chance on another porn memoir.

“Tera Patrick ruined my book deal.”

Houston, in a catty, meow voice, makes no bones about not liking Patrick, a fact which was prompted by an interview Patrick did with her after the 620-man gangbang.

“She was going, ooooooooooooooh, so Hooooooooouston, I wonder what it would have been like if I did the gangbang? I go what the fuck does that mean? Fuck you. I did it, bitch. I never liked her to begin with.”

Taking the advice of her agent, Houston decided to self-publish with the help of Fred Lincoln’s son, Charles Lupula. In all, it took three years to complete.

Ron Jeremy, who wrote a book himself, pens the forward.

“I began writing it when I was diagnosed with cancer,” Houston relates.

“And I’m doing great with that. I take very good care of myself, now. I’ve totally changed my life, and that’s why I left LA. I was killing myself and I had to get out of there.”

“I always wanted to write a book,” she continues. [Available atwww.amazon.com/Houston-Pretty-Enough-Story-Queen/dp/0615438350 ]

“Before Jenna Jameson’s book came out, I had been approached by a publicist to write one. I was just so into my career and doing drugs and feature dancing…it was crazy. I just couldn’t wrap my head around that, ya know?

“Time goes by, and I decided it’s now or never. Then I had so many other things happen to me to write about. It was the right timing.”

Houston relates how her father’s mother was a beauty queen/socialite who went crazy and was put in an insane asylum. She wound up dying on the streets of New Mexico, homeless. Her maternal grandfather was Disney animator Clair Weeks who worked on Cinderella, Peter Pan and Snow White. Needless to say, Houston plans on writing about her colorful family in a follow-up book.

Self-publishing, she says, is a whole other learning process where Houston and Lupula collaborated via phone and the Internet.

“It’s my words and he did a really great job in capturing my voice and how I would speak. So far the reviews have really been good. I’m glad I wrote it. I have a legacy for my child.” Houston has a 19 year-old daughter in her second year of college.

Sales, though, are another thing and that’s what Houston’s hoping to correct by making herself more press-available.

She was particularly excited about the piece 7 Magazine in Las Vegas was doing on her. www.adultfyi.com/read.php?ID=55920 And lately she’s been making the rounds of book fairs including ones coming up in Frankfurt, Germany and Bejing, China.

“I’m going to try to do one every three months just to get it out there. I’m doing everything I can.”

Houston’s also planning to get back on the Stern show to promote her book at some point, depending on Stern’s revised schedule because of his appearances on America’s Got Talent.

I met Houston when she first dipped her toes in the adult industry swimming pool. We were introduced by Peter Davy, her then-manager at the annual Night of the Stars.

“I remember that night,” she laughs.

“I was wearing gold lame pants, this white fucking blouse and gay Bo Derek braids. I was so nervous and that was my introduction to schmoozing. I had to learn how to do that.”

Houston and Davy had a subsequent falling out which isn’t surprising considering Davy’s modus operandi. I believe he’s now back living in England.

“He was appalled, I guess, that I did that gangbang,” Houston relates.

“He was always looking for that mainstream crossover for me.”

Houston had been modeling since she was 15 and was on the Island Tropics bikini circuit at the time when she met Davy through a roommate.

“She kept telling me about this agent and I should do adult. I had never even watched adult. I said, fuck it, I tried out for Playboy that week. Then I went to World Modeling to Jim South and took some pictures. When I got home I got a letter from Playboy saying I was turned down.

“Jim called and said he had a movie for me. Okay, whatever. It was a scene with Nick East and I did the movie. After that I got a call from Peter Davy asking me if I wanted to be the Nitro contract girl, that they’d give me ten grand and I had to do so many movies a month. I said, sure.”

[Houston’s been trying to dig up old associates from the porn past. Male porn performer Alec Metro, she learned from Raylene, is in a half-way house. Obviously, another porn success story.]

Houston continues to sell real estate and graduated two years ago from nursing school. She’s now a licensed phlebotomist looking for a vein to prick. In the mean time, Houston hooked up with Brazzers and did a couple of scenes for them.

“Honestly, I wanted to get my name back out there,” she explains.

“I felt it couldn’t hurt me; and I’ve got a blog, www.xxxhouston.blogspot.com . I still run my official website which I started a million years ago. I keep going…why not? Everything is good, and as far as the Brazzers-thing, people that like me, love the scenes; other people hate them and think I’m too old to be doing porn.

“I don’t know if I’m going to do more. I’m not doing this to be a star. I’m not doing it so much for the finances because it’s not my only income.”

“But I want to sell books,” she adds, quite honestly.

“And doing those scenes will get my name out there. If there’s anyone who knows about PR, it’s me.”

The first question she gets in her interviews is, naturally, about the adult business.

“That was the DVD golden age when I was big. There were contract girls and starlets, but it’s not the same. And I must say I was happy to be a part of that because it was really cool. I was this contract girl. It was fun.”

In hindsight the only thing she would have changed were the drugs.

The story I remember best about Houston, which is also in her book, was the Metro vacation for fans in Jalisco, Mexico where she was buried up to her neck in sand for a beach bukkake.

“I write about that in my book,” she points out.

“That was the worst experience of my life. I broke my toe the night before. I was drinking Mexican moonshine at a party for the owner of the hotel. I punched Mark Davis. I was swimming in the pool with my high heels on. I was drunk.

“And then the next morning I had to go be Houston. Bridget Kerkove was doing the scene with me. And they buried me in the sand where the sand fleas were biting me. The goggles they got us to shield our eyes were bought in the store in the frickin’ hotel. All the cum was seeping into my eyes. I was dying!!! And I had a million guys cum on my face. And my toe is broken. It was terrible.”

She’s not exaggerating because I remember her eyes nearly blistering out of her head.

I also seemed to recall an incident at the airport where Houston was stopped by the Federales. I asked her about that and she was hazy on the details.

“I don’t remember,” she answers. Now I have to make a point of digging up that story, avoiding, of course, the sand fleas.

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