My career has an actress developed more quickly when I learned the age old adage that was, is, and always will be true: It's not what you know, but who you know (or who you blow)!

Seeing numerous bimbos getting leads in R-rated "B" flicks when they couldn't even READ cue cards really got my goat.

Finally, I decided to sell myself (per se) and let an important director think he seduced me!

The result was: I got my big break.

But I also got a big stomach!

My mathematics (as in rhythm cycle) were never that strong and I really needed that movie role.

When the studio sent around their gofer, trying to get me to abort, I reminded them that we'd be done shooting long before I would show. What I didn't realize was that the director was (happily?) married and wanted to avoid both a scandal and perhaps blackmail.

Despite the crimp in my lifestyle, my maternal instinct took over and I had little J.B., nine months later, giving him to my parents to raise. They had supported me and my pro-life choice and they didn't mind another child, since I had run out to make it big in Hollywood.

I'm ashamed to say I didn't get home to visit my child very much in the next few years while my career took off, but I spent all my Christmases there, and I certainly never forgot a birthday, so I thought I had done right by him.

Success made getting home impossible, even during some Christmas seasons, so I did the next best thing and treated my parents (and son) to a vacation so they could visit me 'on location'. The first time was in Italy, the second time was in Morocco.

Unfortunately for J.B., these excursions made his school grades plummet and my parents warned me about it.

After finally spending one Christmas alone, I cried myself to sleep over the missing of my family. I vowed to never do this again, so when a part came up in a TV serial (Falcon's Nest), I grabbed it and became known as the "Queen Bitch" of TV!

Now working in Hollywood, I had weekends off, there was the Christmas break in shooting schedules, and I could spend more time with my parents and growing son.

But J.B. had a different take! He felt alienated, as if there was something wrong with him that I couldn't keep him with me.

We wound up agruing about it. He would claim that I failed to make the sacrifices that all parents make to BE parents. I argued that THIS industry was different, that it demands a model's looks, a whore's personality, and a drive to succeed because of all the competition there is.

During the more vocal parts of our exchange, I called J.B. a whiny little bastard, forgetting that he literally WAS one, not just figuratively.

It put a wedge between us that lasted for quite a while.

In an attempt to make amends, I prepared to have J.B. come home with me, but then dad died. After the funeral, I realized that mom needed J.B. around her for security and companionship.

But, I suppose losing her husband made her lose some inner will, and she passed away within the next year.

I was there when she died, J.B. crying in my arms, wondering why life sucked so much, right then.

I never realized how fast time flew by because here with me was no baby, but a big strapping six foot tall sixteen year old, needing only a few more high school credits to make graduation.

As if I needed any more angst of my own, the TV series was cancelled.

I had enough money to retire, but not in the kind of luxury or glamor that my public was used to associating with me.

When J.B. moved in, he wanted to know why, if I had all this room, that my parents and him couldn't have moved in WITH me. When I told him that my parents wanted nothing to do with living in Hollywood, he made the connection that Hollywood was evil. Who could argue with that?

The following year, while J.B. was now a seventeen year old senior, a part came along that I just couldn't pass up. It might be my last lead ever, since I was almost forty, and it paid two million!

But it meant location shooting, so we all schlepped out into the desert with our trailers and infinite hangers on and began rehearsals. I had this wonderful duplex trailer for me and J.B. and the tutor.

Shooting was tense. The director was demanding. The lead actor was flighty. I was having menstrual cramps and J.B. was trying to get into the movie (as an extra).

Despite my objections, the director said J.B. was perfect for a certain part he wanted to write in.

Now that J.B. was in the business, I guess you could say he celebrated. I came in unexpectedly, one day, and found him fucking his tutor!

My first instinct was to have her fired, but I didn't want to further alienate J.B., so I rationalized that a few sown oats wouldn't really harm the boy!

But the tutor was bed hopping, trying to break into the business, and J.B. didn't want to share her. That led to a new confrontation involving the director, who had her fired anyway.

Now, added to the mix was a sexual tension that had never before existed.

With about one week left in shooting, and with my big love scene not going well, the director screamed at me for not being focused, his way of saying I didn't project well.

With love scenes, you can't just go through the motions. The audience has to be able to identify with one lover or the other to make it work.

Frustrated and in my trailer reading the script, trying to feel for that missing something, in walked J.B., a little drunk after having wrapped his final cut in the production.

He had heard about my scrape with the director and he spoke bluntly to me, "I heard you couldn't PERFORM," he teased.

I scolded, "You've been drinking!"

He spat back, "Tough shit! I'm not driving and I just wrapped. Worry about yourself!"

I defended, "I'm trying to do just that. I'm pouring over the script, trying to find a new motivation, here."

J.B., with a scoundrel's voice but right on the money, said, "There's no sexual tension between you and Brandon (the character of my co-star). Audiences must relate to that tension!"

J.B. crossed over to his room, rummaged, and came back wearing only his favorite cut off sweat pants, leaving the draw string dangling, but not tied.

He ordered me, "Now, take off your panties and hike up your skirt just enough to tease the audience."

I said, "What? I'll do nothing of the kind, young man, and..."

"Take them off NOW, or I'll do it FOR you!" J.B. said it with such force that I shinnied out of them immediately in actual fear of own son!