So what happens when one of Fleshbot’s favorite photographers of the female form gets together with her writer friend and porn star Monica Mattos — winner of an AVN Award this year for Best Foreign Performance and one of Brazil’s hottest exports — for a night on the town through the streets of Sao Paolo? Probably exactly what you think … but we figured we’d share the visual evidence with you anyway.
Stir yourself up a caipirinha or three and join Monica, Autumn, and André after the jump.
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A Night Out With Monica Mattos
Photos by Autumn Sonnichsen
Text by André Maleronka
Monica Mattos is a busy girl. Ever since the Brazilian dark-haired beauty received her AVN trophy for Best Foreign Female Performance, she hasn’t stopped working. She is a sweet and well-mannered girl who loves to get fucked in the ass on film; one of the infinite versions of the Brazilian Girl Next Door, and a happy one at that. She won’t tell you which directors she’s worked for and which movies that she’s made that week, but what she will tell you is that she’s single again and goes on enthusiastically about the interviews that she’s been giving on the Brazilian version of David Letterman, something that a porn star has never done in this country, which gives her a good reason to think about leaving for the first time for Hollywood, the land of Jenna Jameson and book deals and better implants.
We took her to see a Burlesque show at Loveland, a club in a swanky part of Sao Paulo, far away from where she now lives, in a working-class district with her mother. She had never set foot in the place, or in the neighborhood. We gave her her first Cosmopolitan and the stripper asked to pose for pictures with her.
Then we went to her old neighborhood downtown to drink beer in a filthy lesbian bar, where the waitress passed her notes from delirious fans and many a drink was bought for her. She doesn’t pretend to be nice to them, to you, or to anyone, she won’t offer you anything other than that radiant smile and her beautiful ass. She’s one of the most sincere people that we’ve ever met.
We bought more beer from the bodega on the corner and took photos of her on the stairways above the freeway, with people hanging out of the windows of the apartment buildings, and we made friends with the Mafioso skater boys that populate Roosevelt Square benches at night, where people fuck quietly and smoke joints while staring out at a Sao Paulo’s non-existent skyline and listening to the traffic moan loudly beneath us. The city’s huge curves and lights mirrored Monica’s own in other dimensions, pulling her skirt over her ass, her two cell phones ringing the whole time, reveling in her pure and newfound pleasure in being single and alive at night in the city where she was born. She is Sao Paulo’s Prom Queen.
But then she had to go, to catch the last train back to her mother’s house on the other side of town, where she’s living since she divorced her husband three months ago. We took one last photo, of her in the metro station, and kissed her on both cheeks and made plans to do it again next week.
· Photos by Autumn Sonnichsen (autumnsonnichsen.com)