GG Barnums on West 45th Street was good fun, especially the trans trapeze act and dancing between a glamorous queen and ballerina; Shannon and Dove. Shannon kept sticking poppers under my nose and Dove too, whispering ‘fuck me, fuck her’ in all seriousness dancing to Chic’s FREAK. Grant and John joined us in the dance orgy. It had been a long time since I enjoyed myself in a disco. The Times Square joint offers another higher plane of perversion; shem/him/she. Grant felt a little out of place, because none of the men were interested in gay sex, but wanted stick pussy. Same as me.
I wasn’t fucked enough to escape my hang-ups, but submitted to the touch and caress of the cluster pseudo-fuck. Shannon gives me a line. We went into the toilet, but there were too many people to do anything.
I first became acquainted with queens through Hubert Selby Jr.’s LAST EXIT FOR BROOKLYN. One of the tragic heroines, Georgette, sadly tastes someone else’s ass on here boyfriend’s cock. They liked getting fuck hard in the novel. I jerked off to it more than a couple of times and back at the bar I allowed Shannon to fondle my cock sheathed by my jeans.
“I want you to jam your cock down my throat. I want your cock in my ass. Get me a beer.”
I hadn’t gotten an erection and left soon after. Rain outside. I walked through post-midnight Times Square. Alone. No sluts, no whores, no queers, only wet perverts hoping for the impossible. I take the subway to the East Village.