It was a lovely evening in the San Fernando Valley. The air was perfumed with a melange of body odour wafting from dozens of bukkake boys. Gia Jordan was the still photographer and Jim Powers was the director. Emma emerged from a set of prop stairs that led nowhere. Was she cli-i-i-mbing a stairway to heaven? Hardly. She looked out of place and seemed to clue in that she would not be meeting Mark Davis, Vince Voyeur, or Evan Stone that evening. In their places stood Korn, a machete-less Steve Driver, and his still-breathing friend Tom Dong.

(End of part 1.)