As the AIDS terror began creeping out of the shadows in the mid-1980s, porn superstar Amber Lynn looked all around her and ran like hell.
At the silken age of 19, Lynn had - for lack of a better term - pumped out forty full-length porno films. In a year and a half the bleached-blonde bombshell had built an on-screen persona as a bitch to reckon with - always in charge, even in the most submissive of positions. Lynn graced the cover of Hustler magazine, and, as the home video market swelled, her name was, if not a household word, known by every guy who ever had a healthy stirring in his pants. And then she disappeared. Just walked away.
But now, more than a decade later, she's back. Monday afternoon Lynn started a six-day run at the racy Admiral Theatre on the city's Northwest side. After a failed engagement (hubby to-be evidentally watched some old movies and couldn't deal with the truth) she is on the road stripping in a theatre near you.
"I left the adult film industry," Lynn says just moments after writhing around on the black lacquered Admiral stage, "when the issue of AIDS came out. When I caught wind of what the possible conseqences were, it was not a risk that I wanted to take with my life."
As Lynn talks, she sits Indian-style behind a table in a sticky leather booth. Gone is the super-teased peroxide coife of her porn days. Her hair today is a more natural valley-girl blonde, falling in waves over her copper-toned shoulders. As she recants the doggie-style days of yesteryear, horny guys circle around like preying great whites. Everything Lynn does is geared towards more pocket change, and the feeding sharks are ready to pony-up. A pair of stage-worn white panties fetch $100 during a mid-show auction. After the twenty minute leg-splitting dance routine, as the overwhelming waft of dry ice fog fades, a completely naked Lynn, (save for a pair of silver glittered lace-up high-heeled shoes) poses with adoring fans for pricey autographed polaroids.
But what's most surprising, beyond the jello-mold silcone boobs, the pouty lips and the calf muscles that would make Arnold Schwarzenegger green with envy is the person behind the porn. Lynn digs Aerosmith and Beverly Hills 90210. She adores her dog and cat back in Los Angeles and she confesses to having an uncontrollable sweet tooth. Guess what? Porn stars are people, too.
(Sam Weller)
copyright 1999 New City Communications, Inc.