jwaneeta

ETA: because of dunderheadedness, the sketches mentioned below can be found at:

http://www.papertiger.50megs.com/photo4.html


So, of a fragrant desert evening, DB, Monanotlisa and I go to Buttcheeks or whatever the heck it was called. Much gyrations. Many wavings of tits. I'm sanguine, I'm cool, because DB and Mona, sophisticated Europeans that they are, have told me that we're on a hunt for The Great American Sleaze. I'm toting a sketchbook, because I'm sassing this as a Toulouse kind of vibe. Capturing the human face of the underbelly and all. It's all jake. Poor wimmins, all expolited.

But DB leads us upstairs. Who knew pits of hell had upper floors? There's manflesh up there. Manflesh and even more buttcheeks, butts of steel. Butts of diamond hardness. I reach for my Sharpie like Joan at bay.



Interestingly, about half the female patrons were escorted by long suffering male partners. I have several sketches about that dynamic, but I didn't scan them, because they are more boring than hard male ass in Firefighter garb.



Drinks were heinously expensive, so I failed to achieve the utter inebriation that would have made this evening a night I couldn't recount in a public forum. By emptying my wallet of all but cabfare (I think -- DB, do I owe you money? It's foggy) I found the courage to engage one of our chorines in a bit of M/M requestry. It must be said that I was approached because I was sitting between about four meters of blonde fresh-from-the-pan gorgeousness, and the young men found it no sorrow to lap dance on either of them. Flatteringly, they scoped me as the sexless chaste drone paragon I am, and asked me to act as enabler. Encouragor. Pimp, if you will. After several tries I was sufficiently peeved to ask them for a bit of slash.

I got a blank smile and had to explain it. At that, I got another game grin. No, no. I asked if male/male was against house policy.

"Oh, si," replied our Pavolva, as the idea sank in.

Fair enough.

But they really must have drawn a bead on lengthy and lascivious DB and Monanotlisa because lo! A dance or two later, into the footlights strode a Guy in a Long Leather Coat, and a Mean Sherrif Guy.

What followed was nowhere near as depraved as the Het we'd been seeing all night, but I screamed myself hoarse (a breakthrough! A milestone! For, um, the outing of slash, or whatever) and DB did her bit for Art.





The end of the night confounded all expectations of sleaze. We closed the joint, and a young cuban approached me for a drawing. He wanted a mermaid. Oh, God! The boo!

I asked him for a rough idea of what he wanted. He grabbed my pen and got to work.



Other naked young men drew near as I executed his commission, while around us buspeople gathered detritus and Buttcheeks approached its brief cycle of rest.

I must say, if you look at it, that lad's mermaid has a lot of merit as a drawing. The angle of the head, the attitude of the chest -- the whole thing is quite solid. I've teased bar drawings from worse, in my rank youth, and from no one near as fit and dedicated to their craft.

And thus the Search For Sleaze was confounded by a young Cuban's request for a picture of his Ideal. Sob. I left the place raving about innocent humanity obtaining in the lowest dives. DB and Monanotlisa patted me with sophisticated understanding, and saw me to my elevator.

ETA: WELL, PISS! THE PICS WON'T LOAD. RIPPED OFF