Hustler's Scott Fayner is no feigner. He doesn't feign cool, he doesn't feign stud, and he certainly doesn't feign sobriety. He lives 'la vida porno' to the max. He's porn's version of Dudley Moore's "Arthur" for the new millenium--sans the wealth. He's a writer, he's a musician, he dallies endlessly with porn stars and starlets, and he's something of a nerd.

If you know of Fayner's reputation, but you don't know Fayner himself--and then you finally meet him--your first reaction will probably be, "Get the fuck outa here! This ain't the guy I heard about!" He looks like anything but what his reputation says. When I last hung-out with Fayner, he was dressed in a nerdish, disheveled manner. I thought to myself, "Even Luke Ford cuts a more GQ-ish figure." But underneath that wrinkled, short-sleeved, striped shirt fresh off the J.C. Penney sale rack, the wide, gray tie his father probably tossed out and Scott salvaged from the trash, the hair style that looked as if he just crawled out of bed, there is a guy who lives out millions of guy's dreams.

Uber-publicist Harry Weiss invited Scott to dinner at this Italian joint at the Venetian. I attended, along with Smash Picture's lovely, goth-girl saleschic, Leticia, and the very sexy Aria. Scott showed up late and stumbled to the table. He looked like he hadn't slept for three days, and I think I heard him say something to that effect. We had already ordered appetizers and they were on the table. Fayner was completely disinterested in the fried calamari, shrimp, and whatever else we had ordered. He was looking for a fresh fix of Captain Morgan. My guess was that Scott wasn't looking for a Captain Morgan buzz, but rather was using it as a snake-oil elixir to balance out some other chemical(s) coursing through his veins.

As a writer for Hustler, Fayner gets some choice assignments: One of which called for him to test out a Jewel De'Nyle pussy mold, and then test out Jewel De'Nyle herself, and then write a comparison piece. Tough assignment, huh? We heard about all the groupie sex Fayner wallowed in back in Boston along with his bandmates. We heard about the dangers of unprotected sex with budding porn starlets. We heard about the unimpressive size of his penis. We heard about the drugs, the blowjobs, the losing track of days at a time. I quickly realized what a vanilla porn life I lead. I think I'm going to go check out J.C. Penney's sales racks and stop by the Goodwill store to pick out some out-of-date ties. Hey, if it works for Fayner maybe it will work for me!

Stranger things have happened.





"