Secret Life of a Mormon Porn Star

I thought I could make my double life work, until meeting a fellow Mormon on set forced me to confront my own contradictions.

Illustrations by Sam Dean Lynn

I met Aaron on a porn set at an estate in the San Fernando Valley. My agent, Jim, had told me I’d like working with him. “He’s nice. Honest, and he shows up on time,” Jim’s voice twanged. A retired professional MMA fighter, Aaron’s muscles bulged like an action hero’s. His skin glowed the familiar orange that came with any of the $29.99 unlimited monthly memberships at Los Angeles tanning salons, but when he smiled, it was in a cheesy Dad-grin kind of way, like something I recognized.

“Wendy!” he called out my stage name.

I looked up, as if I hadn’t been watching him from behind the golden highlights of my long bangs, and flashed a smile. “Jim told me that you’re effing Mormon? Me too!”

It was 2003, and I was new to both Los Angeles and the adult entertainment industry. I’d grown up Mormon in the suburbs of Virginia and Minnesota and moved to Los Angeles to become an actress, but I could never get past the first auditions. I realized, looking around at the other wannabe actresses in the waiting rooms, with their Brazilian blowouts, perfectly manicured nails, and thick, satin-finish business cards, that they had something I didn’t — capital to spend on being more gorgeous, confident versions of their already beautiful selves. I started call-girling, doing massages at upscale hotel rooms in Beverly Hills, then nude modeling for magazines to make cash. From there, it was a smooth jump into adult entertainment, where I could make more doing video. It was a nontraditional detour, I told myself. I’d make $50,000 to invest in myself, and then get out.

I couldn’t deny, though, that I was living a full-fledged double life — going to church on Sundays and doing porn scenes during the week. Meeting Aaron was the first time that my two worlds collided.