The only thing more incredible than Farrah Abraham being a New York Times bestselling author is that she walked right into the alligator's mouth at Gawker Media HQ to discuss her latest literary effort: a trilogy of erotic novels based on her own infamy as the star of a "leaked" sex tape.
Farrah has mostly maintained her innocence in her sex tape scandal, insisting that the video she shot with porn star James Deen was never meant for public consumption, but for her personal use only. However, the first book in her erotica trilogy, Celebrity Sex Tape in the Making, is about a sexual young starlet named Fallon Opal who has been hit with a $100,000 bill from the IRS for unpaid taxes stemming from her work on a TV show when she was in high school. Fallon's shady agent comes up with a scheme for a "celebrity sex tape."
"Kim K, Paris, there's a precedent for this kind of thing. No one knew who they were before they did their tapes, and now they're sitting on an empire that makes them millions," she tells Fallon. They set up a deal with a man named Schmite Hale who owns the porn company HALE'O to "leak" the video.
Basically, this is Farrah's If I Did It.
The book gives every detail about the behind-the-scenes machinations of staging a "leak" of Backdoor Teen Mom—if she did it, that is. There's even a subplot of Fallon's agent landing her a gig on a celebrity couples show , even though Fallon is single.
Farrah was gracious enough to speak with me and Gawker's Rich Juzwiak about her writing process and her persona. Occasionally, Ellora's Cave CEO (or SHE-E-O, as she is sometimes called) Patricia Robb Marks would chime in off-camera.
One sex scene in Celebrity Sex Tape in the Making that particularly stood out to us involved a bat. Fallon meets a guy at a club and immediately gets fingered by him on the dance floor. (She comes.) She decides to bring him home, which leads to the following scene in her bedroom:
"What are you talking about?" I was getting plain annoyed with Pashan.
"That! Right there!" He pointed to the floor on my side of the bed.
I peered over the edge at the wiggling, black thing. It launched itself up, into the air, taking flight. It hit the wall about us and bounced off, cartwheeling through the air, landing on the foot of the bed and rolling off.
"Oh my God, that's a bat." I yanked the covers up over my head.
Bats were a problem in L.A. Or at least I remembered something on the news about them being rabid.
"Get rid of it." I pushed at Pashan.
"Hell no, I'm not touching that thing." His eyes were bugging out of his head and he huddled against the headboard.
I stared at him. Was that what I looked like? Because if it was, I looked stupid.
"Fine, I'll do it myself," I said.
There was an empty box next to my bed from some shoes I'd ordered. I grabbed it and crawled down to the end of the bed, peering over the edge.
It was ridiculous to think that I was crouching on my bed, my bare ass stuck up in the air, naked as the day I was born, trying to catch a winged rodent. Yes, this was my crazy life.
The bat lay on the floor, its little chest heaving. It had to be dazed
I placed the box on its side next to the bad and scooted it toward the little rodent. The bat wiggled and flopped around enough that I was able to get it onto the box flap. I tipped it over and sapped the top closed on the creature.
That wasn't so hard.
I picked up the box and marched to the windows. One of them had been left open a little, no doubt how the furry little interloper had gotten in. I held the box out of the window and a moment later the bat shot out into the night and away from us.
I closed the window and made a beeline for the bathroom where I scrobbed a layer of skin off my hands and arms.
"Babe?" Pashan leaned into the bathroom.
I glanced at his reflection in the mirror. "Get out."
"Hey, is this about the bat?"
"I said get out."
"You can't blame me for not wanting to touch that thing," he whined.
Was he serious? I'd just taken care of the bat—naked—and without his help. The last thing I wanted was or him to stick his penis in my vagina. I stared at him and he slowly stopped talking.
"I guess I'll get my stuff and leave then," he said.
I wrapped myself in a robe while he got his clothes back on. I even saw him to the door, but we didn't exchange another word. Pashan left without another argument, and really, I couldn't take any more of his talking. I was over it.
After a hot shower and polishing off the wine, I curled up in bed. I was not so upset about being alone. It was certainly better than spending the night with Pashan.
Farrah explains her motivations for including the scene here: