LAS VEGAS – A retired porn star still easing into a life outside the adult film business has died in a car crash on a dangerous stretch of highway south of Las Vegas.
Anna Hotop-Stout, 38, known to the adult film world as Anna Malle, died Wednesday after the car she was traveling in collided with a pickup truck while making a U-turn. She had not been wearing a seat belt, Nevada Highway Patrol officers said.
In her 15-year career, Hotop-Stout made more than 300 films, about one-third of them with her husband, retired porn actor Hank Armstrong.
She was born near Havana, Ill., raised in Fort Madison, Iowa, and began working in the porn industry in California in the early 1990s, Armstrong said Friday. Her first film “Here Comes Anna Malle” was released in 1994. One of her favorites was 1995’s “Naked Desert,” her husband said.
Hotop-Stout had retired from the film business a year ago and was working at a Bloomingdale’s wedding registry in Las Vegas, Armstrong said.
“She didn’t want to be known as the old chick that had to work,” he said. “She wanted a normal life again.”
The Las Vegas resident was a passenger in a 2005 Dodge Stratus that was making a U-turn on state Route 160 when it turned into the path of a 1985 Chevrolet pickup truck, the Nevada Highway Patrol said. She was taken to University Medical Center in Las Vegas, where she died.
The accident occurred on 50-mile stretch of state Route 160 that runs to Pahrump. Also known as Blue Diamond Road, the mostly two-lane highway has been the scene of 11 accident-related deaths in the past six months.
Lainie Speiser writes in Naked Ambition: It was truly a scene out of the film Boogie Nights, complete with its supporting actress and real-life porn star Nina Hartely. It was my promotional party for the hardcore rag Fox Magazine, a closing party for the East Coast Video Show. I was proud of myself because all the greats were there — Ron Jeremy, Jill Kelly, Jewel De’Nyle, Gina Lynn — and hosted by my all-time favorite porn couple, Anna Malle and Hank Armstrong. At Fox magazine we had our own special schtick: the actual porn personalities were also the editors and publishers. It was a great tool for a publicist, an easy way to keep the media machine going because the girls were in the magazine every month. Anna Malle was the Stripper Editor, a sexy, outrageous, horny and happy woman who adored being the naughty center of attention. One of the reasons I loved Anna so much that it was immediately obvious to all those who met her that she truly was a fun-loving, crazy nympho who was lucky enough to find a forum that would allow her to behave like this and get paid at the same time. For a promoter like me, it is these women whom you most want to work with because they loved what they did as much as I did.
Anna and Hank made the perfect swinging sex couple. She looked so different than the other women in this business. In a sea of blondes, she was dark and exotic with an American Indian lineage. Her high cheekbones, dark hair, caramel-colored skin and wiry, rubberband of body that screamed high energy set her apart from the rest. She loved to f—. She loved men and women, and even in our off-time she always managed to make every occasion a celebration. Hank was the yin to her yang. He looked like a retired football player, big and blond, mellow and likeable. Of course, he also had a humongous cock and whenever anyone in the office happened to have a big banana we would take a pen and write “Hank’s Crank” across it. When they came to town we would all be excited and giddy because they were so much fun to be around. “The Malles are coming!” we would jokingly cry, “The Malles are coming!”
My party with “The Malles” was held at a duplex suite in the Sands Hotel and Casino, outfitted with booze, food, a bartender and a big pool table. By midnight the place was in full effect and I could tell even the publisher, Russell Orenstein, was pleased then again what Italian-Jewish heterosexual wouldn’t be. The soiree was dripping with tanned, tight bodies which were topped off with big fake tits, their nipples out and proud in their flimsy dresses and halters, standing at attention like a cherry on top of a frosted cupcake. Anna glowed in a Bebe’s number, which was really just a very fancy, silky, gold robe with two buttons fastened at the waist, a matching gold g-string and spiky f—-me heels. She ran around the place like a squirrel on amphetamines, laughing and talking and charming the s— out of everyone. At one point, she was hopping about with an empty champagne bucket, begging tips for the bartender who was swarmed by heavy drinkers like flies to a giant turd. “Everyone! Everyone! I just want you all to know that RON JEREMY just put FIVE DOLLARS in the bucket!” She waved the fiver high over her sleek dark head. “FIVE DOLLARS! RON JEREMY!” And of course we all laughed and cheered because everyone in the business knows The Hedgehog is one cheap mofo.
My boyfriend Tom was there, too, taking photos of it all and looking like Jimmy Olsen turned rock star with his black leather pants and ribbed black turtleneck offsetting his shiny blond hair and teenybopper angel face. He took a photo of me and Nina Hartley, whom I gushed at in admiration. The well-preserved, middle aged sex-pot purred and ran her hand inside of the blouse that exposed my midriff. “Ummm…” she said in my ear. “You’re soft and smooth like a woman should be.” Nina ran her tongue along the outline of my ear and Tom happily clicked away while my face turned hot and red. “Awww, you’re so sweet.” I said, “Thank you.” Anna jumped to join us for a pose, grabbed Tom’s leather clad package for a tight squeeze and shouted, “DAMN, HE’S HOT!!!” Then she turned quickly to me. “I hope that’s okay, Miss Lainie. I’m just goofing around.” I was touched by her good manners and I elbowed her narrow torso. “Oh, Anna. You know you’re the only one I would allow a free grope.” Tom and I had met on the job. He worked as a copy editor and our big romance, we suspected, was an object of scorn among some of the higher ups on staff. It was one thing to have a fling, but this was an exclusive relationship and we were in love. Tom and I were quiet and discreet about it, but he was coincidentally fired soon after we were spotted by the office manager cuddling on the #6 train at 8:00am. His presence at this party made my boss Russell Orenstein quite uneasy, but I just decided to ignore it. Yeshiva schooling had taught me a few things. The biggest was never to act guilty about anything you’re doing, whether it’s wrong or right. Besides, there were plenty of provocative nubiles around, treating him like an emperor.
By 2am it was time to break it up. Anna and Hank were going to use the suite to shoot “Swinger Party” footage for their website and possibly to sell it as a DVD. She had her heels off at that point and stood on the glass coffee table. “I want to thank you all for coming! I want to thank Fox magazine! I want to thank Russell Orenstein! I want to thank Miss Lainie for throwing this wonderful party!!” There were claps and hoots among the guests. Then Anna clapped her hands together and said, “Now for those of you who are here to f—, please stay! And for those who aren’t, please collect your coats in the upstairs bedroom!” Tom looked hopefully at me, but I quickly dashed that. “Okay Bud, lets go,” I said. In the upstairs bedroom Anna and I hugged and I thanked her for being her wonderful, sweet self. Anna, thin and small boned somehow managed to catch me off guard and knocked me over, landing me on the bed, where she promptly jumped on top of me, straddled me, pinned me down and yelled, “YOU WILL LIKE GIRLS!!!!” Of course, she was joking and we laughed and rolled around like kids. Tom took photos and said, “That’s what I keep telling her Anna, but she doesn’t listen.”