Stormy Daniels is Not Here to be Your Headline
First she allegedly fucked the president. Now she’s the Penthouse Pet of the century. Legendary porn star and director Stormy Daniels confesses all.
What the hell? … Strutting the Solid Gold runway in six-inch heels and sequined Little Red Riding coat, Stormy Daniels found herself taken aback by the crowd. Middle-aged men occasionally brought a wife or girlfriend to the show, but this was unexpected. Straight women commandeered the front row. As Stormy lifted her hood and began peeling away the fairy-tale costume, the women roared.
“Go get ’em!” shouted one.
“Fuck Trump!” said another.
Within minutes, the stage was littered with tens and twenties. According to Stormy and her personal assistant, Kayla Paige, the night netted roughly $2,000 in tips.
Following the performance, Kayla and Stormy maintained their usual routine, tossing the cash into a laundry basket filled with merchandise (Stormy’s porn DVDs, autographed 8 by 10 photographs). They recall ascending the stairs to the Fort Lauderdale strip club’s VIP room, only to discover a new fan demographic: gaggles of gay men, lining up, faces glowing as they clutched bags of Cheetos, the neon orange snack with a tinge some liken to that of the Commander in Chief, President Donald J. Trump. Along with snapshots, autographs, and gushing came a special request.
For an additional sum, would Stormy stomp Cheetos into the ground?
“I’ll do anything for $20,” Stormy replied.
Money was exchanged, Cheetos were scattered, and the hardworking porn star turned international news story ground them to orange powder beneath her high-heeled stripper shoes.
She laughed, but Stormy and Kayla recall the autograph sessions growing serious.
“I’ve never been to a strip club, but I had to come see you,” one woman confessed.
“I fucking hate [Trump],” another lady whispered.
“I suck dick for a living… Do I have political opinions? Yes. But I’m not interested in sharing them because I am fully aware that it’s my job… to be an entertainer.”
Ever since the Wall Street Journal published a story alleging Stormy took $130,000 to sign a nondisclosure agreement which forbid her from discussing a 2006 consensual sexual encounter with Donald Trump, the 39-year-old has become a political Rorschach test. Women thank her at the grocery store for inspiring them to speak up, sharing their personal #MeToo stories. Conspiracy theorists call her the “Deep State’s Plan B” if the multiple Russia investigations fail to bring down Trump.
On Twitter the leftist resistance has hailed her as a saving grace that might lead to impeachment. Leaders of the evangelical right have ignored Stormy — if they acknowledged the scandal, how could they defend their beloved Trump? — but atheists have used this reaction as proof of Christian hypocrisy.
The only person who sees Stormy’s story as not political is Stormy herself.
“I’m fine with women coming up to me and saying, ‘You’ve inspired me.’ That’s great. But I’m quick to point out that’s not my story,” she says. “I suck dick for a living. Nobody wants to know what I think about the wall or health care. Do I have political opinions? Yes. But I’m not interested in sharing them because I am fully aware that it’s my job and my service to society to be an entertainer. Yes, my version of being an entertainer happens to be a porn star, which makes it even more important: I am an escape from reality.”
But if Stormy doesn’t want to be part of a political agenda, what does she want?