Last night I tried out (as a go-go boy) for the guy who runs the parties at Splash on Saturdays. It seemed to be Big ‘n’ Beefy night, so I felt somewhat out of place, but I was still having a good time.
Then somebody walked by me and indicated that he wanted to speak to me. I leaned down and he shouted in my ear (the music was pretty loud), “How’s your dick?”
I heard him fairly clearly but I wanted to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood, so I shouted back, “What?”
He shouted, “How’s your cock?”
I gave the only possible reply, which was, “Fabulous!”
“Is it hard?” I gave him what I hope passed for a lascivious look. “If you get it hard I’ll give you a dollar.”
And I almost spit in his face.
A dollar? Excuse me. I should get a dollar for letting you stand next to me. Men have been sticking dollar bills in my underwear all evening with the understanding that if they want any kind of display they have to pony up.
I said, “Make it ten and I’ll think about it,” but I spoke softly, because though I was insulted I also didn’t want to anger him.
He hadn’t heard me; he looked up quizzically and shouted, “What?”
I gave him a mysterious smile, declined to repeat myself, and started dancing again, ignoring him until he walked away.
You shoulda kixed him in da nutz! Da nutz i say!!!
A whore. But not a cheap whore.
If you show up shirtless in “HX” magazine, you sure as shit better post the link.
Nice.
Seriously, though, depending on whether or not the guy’s hot, a dollar could suffice for me.
Keep it up. Or not.
I think I have a ten on me here somewhere….
You are the picture of modesty and propriety. In your underwear.
I renew my call for photographic evidence! I beg of you!
Only ten bucks. That’s so worth it!
paul
You were so right to be miffed, Joel. A dollar is something you give to a bedraggled, destitute person on the subway who is begging for spare change. Dancing, however, is hard work for which you should be rewarded in proportion to the entertainment value of your performance, and definitely not at a meagre level that would barely make a decent charitable contribution much less a tip.
What does a twenty get me?
Mysterious smiles and dancing: best way to handle men. Definitely.
You’re became a go-go boy again because?
I read your blog mostly for stories like how you managed to learn German from listening to Wagner and I think, “This guy is a genius!”
Then, there are stories like this one and… well, they’re interesting too.
That is OUTRAGEOUS!! While you were still fighting the Great Dressed Before Breakfast War I received the self-same offer in a club called Mars (pause for small Villon-esque sigh) but he was offering $15. And that was in the 1980’s when $15 was $15. I took it too…..
Sounds like you handled that well.
A dollar!
You should have spat on his face.
I would’ve done it.
A former co-worker and a friend met with a female escort in Las Vegas to discuss the proposed transaction. They told her what they wanted, and she quoted them a price of between $700 and $800, which they couldn’t afford. They asked what they could get for $100; she replied, “You’re getting it now.” I suggest adopting the business model that both display and chit-chat mean ponying up.
You should slide $5 into my underwear ‘cuz I’m commenting on your blog.
I got grunted at by a bear outside a gay bar a few days ago. When I thought I had misinterpreted the signs, I had passed him and his friends and overheard a second guy, “who, the one in the red? Oh, yeah, *grunt.”
I’d have preferred the monetary advances.