here's a couple of vignettes i wrote about working in a cruising lounge. they're to be published on an online website. i hope you enjoy them.
VIGNETTE 1: CHRIS
I first met Chris in the second or third month of working at Erotica Plus.He was in his early thirties and a gingernut. The first time I met him it
was a Sunday, the quietest day of work. He told me straight out about his troubled life. A gambler and an alcoholic, he had taken a day off work to
spend it at the Casino. Starting with a couple hundred bucks, he’d found
himself five grand to the good and decided he’d head to Thailand. So he rushed off to the airport and spent a couple of days in Bangkok with all the Thai bois he could buy. Arriving back in Australia, he bought himself a
bottle of Jim Beam at the airport. He then went around to his girlfiriend of
ten years and informed her that he was gay, not bi. (She had already
suspected.) As he drove home he came to the realisation that he was an
alcoholic and so once home he poured the bottle of whiskey down the sink.
Now single, he hit the cruising lounges for a bit of promiscuous sex. A little
bored with the sex and the lifestyle, he started taking speed to spice up the
fucking.
It was three or four months before I saw Chris next. This time, it was a Saturday
arvo and reasonably busy. I was at the desk reading and studying, when Chris
rocked up. We got to talking and catching up. About five or ten minutes into our
conversation, a couple of guys walked out of the lounge. They were talking to
each other about grabbing a bite to eat. Chris turned and looked at them for a
couple of minutes. Staring one, then the other, down until one of them asked him
what his problem was. A question to which Chris replied, “Nothing. What’s yours?”
The guy looked him up and down, and then left with his friend, heading down the
stairs. Chris then entered the lounge and stayed for about half an hour or so before
deciding to head off.
An hour or so later, the phone rang. It was Chris on the end of the line telling me he knew Johnny, and that if those two guys came back, to tell them that. To tell them
he knows Johnny and that he will come and get them. I told Chris that I’d pass on the
message and hung up. I went back to work. A couple of hours later, the two guys
came back to the lounge. On the way through they asked what that guy’s problem is.
I said I don’t know. They entered the lounge and I went back to my reading.
The next, and last, time I saw Chris was the Labour Day weekend in 2005. I was
downstairs, putting stickers on the backs of DVDs and talking films with Rick, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure run up the stairs. Rick noticed the figure too and got out from behind his desk and ran to the stairs, to tell the customer to pay for a ticket. There was a muffled reply and then I heard Rick muttering to himself as he ran upstairs. I continued putting stickers on the DVDs when I heard a scream from upstairs. I ran up the stairs and found Chris punching Rick in the face repeatedly. From the blood on the wall, it looked like there’d been quite a few punches. I ran across and tried to grab Chris off Rick. He turned and hit me on the side of the head. I slid down the wall and covered my face with my hands. By now, Rick had pushed the buzzer for the lounge. Chris rushed on into the lounge room.
Rick ran downstairs to call the police and I went to follow. As I reached the top of
the stairs, Chris spotted me. I turned to my left and ran into the toilet. I tried to shut the door on him. I wasn't quick enough. I lay on the ground, my hands covering my face, as he kicked me a couple of times. He then ran down the stairs. As I lay there on the floor
I heard a loud crash and bang and Rick screaming again. I ran downstairs to find the
counter smashed to the ground and Chris punching Rick again as he tried to speak into
the phone. Rick hung up the phone and Chris stepped back, threatening to put a bullet
in him (and me) if he ever called the pig. He then ran down the stairs and walked off
down the alley.
I followed him turning to get the police. He spotted me walking out the door and made to come back to Erotica Plus. I shut the door and from inside I called the police and an ambulance for Rick. As I stood there four colleagues came from the other stores to see what had happened. They were ready to beat the shit out of the guy.
Fifteen minutes later the police arrived. They took photos of the blood stained walls and steps and took our statements in the alley way, using the milkcrates from the Chinese shop next door as stools.
A little more than a month later in early May I got a call from the Sargeant at Flinders Street station to come in for a line up. I stood at the counter of Flinders Street Station looking through a series of photos. It took me little more than a couple of minutes to identify number nine as Chris. I was informed after identifying Chris that there would be a court case later on that year. I left and
had forgotten about the case, thinking that the police weren't doing anything about it, until May this year when the police informed me that Chris was about to go to hearing on twelve charges related to
the incident on Sunday 13th March 2005.
That hearing is now a court case that has been scheduled for the 19th October. I am to make an appearance at that case. I'm a little scared to think what that means.
VIGNETTE 2: DAVE
Dave was a cross dresser. I only saw him at the lounge a couple of times.
The first time would have been early on a Saturday morning. He came up to
the counter with a bag in his hand. He looked a little drunk, but that was
none of my concern. (Guys shot up in the toilets, so there was no
real drug policy to speak of.) He was probably in his mid to late twenties. He
wore a hat, tracksuit pants and a t-shirt. He asked to watch a video. I grabbed
the fifteen dollars from him and directed him to the booth. I went back to reading
the paper and drinking the coffee, glancing up every now and then to ensure that
the video that was playing in the lounge hadn't finished.
About twenty minutes later Dave walked from the booths to the counter. I looked
up at him. He was wearing a black dress and a green blouse. Under his dress,
he wore a pair of tights. His face was made up: lips bright red, eyeliner,
face painted quite thick. His hear was now a shoulder length wig. He asked to
enter the lounge. I grabbed the seven dollars from her. She entered the lounge, I
switched of his TV and went back to work, namely calling up for the lunch rounds.
An hour or so later I saw Dave walking down the stairs. He was back wearing his
trackies and t-shirts. I was climbing the stairs having completed the lunch round.
His face was still made up and he still had the wig on under his cap.
At the top of the stairs I turned the corner and headed towards the counter. A guy
was waiting for me. The video had finished. He asked me what that guy’s story was.
I said I didn’t know. He said that he would lie there on the couch, legs spread, masturbating. He would sit there, finger up his arse, the other on his hard cock as the video played. He would just sit there. No one would go near him. Everyone just stood there and watched, their eyes moving from the porn stars on the screen and back to the guy on the couch.
I changed the video and the guy at the counter entered the lounge. I went
back to my reading curious and interested at what I'd just saw. The next day at work
I told Rick about it and he said that Dave had been coming to the store for a couple of months. He'd first started watching dvd's downstairs and then one day he started wearing make up and a wig. Rick had always wondered when he'd start wearing drag.
It was a couple of months before I next saw Dave. This time he had
a goatee and his hair was longer, wavy, brown and shoulder length. He told me
which booth he was in. Number seven. He was wearing a backpack. He looked
slightly drunk again. I turned the video screen on and watched him work down
the corridor. It was a Sunday so I went back to reading my book.
About an hour later, he walked out of the booth. He was wearing a white
blouse through which a black bra could be seen. His hair was tied back in
pigtails, his lips painted a shade of pink, his eyes covered in black
eyeliner, his face heavily made up. His legs were covered in tights and
he wore a black dress. He asked for a ticket to the lounge. As he walked
towards the door, I called out to her.
“Do you do this often?” I asked.
“Occasionally,” she answered. “If I’m drunk or something. I usually get the
clothes from the street.”
“And what do you do with the clothes afterwards?”
“I throw them out.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I just do. I don’t need them anymore, really.”
I didn’t bother pressing any further, there was no need to, so I let her walk on through to the lounge and went back to reading my book. All I could think was he should have shaved off his goatee. He would have looked so much more the part.
The last time I saw Dave was later that day. He was still dressed up, although he looked more fashionable and better suited the part. The make up on the face was thinner and the goatee was gone. The blouse was now done up and the hair that had been poking through it before was now no longer visible. I commented that he looked much better without the beard and he thanked me, then entered the lounge.
He was still there when I left.
I wonder whether he still frequents the lounge. Whether he’s still Dave and more importanly whether he’s more comfortable with himself. I'd like to think he is.
VIGNETTE 1: CHRIS
I first met Chris in the second or third month of working at Erotica Plus.He was in his early thirties and a gingernut. The first time I met him it
was a Sunday, the quietest day of work. He told me straight out about his troubled life. A gambler and an alcoholic, he had taken a day off work to
spend it at the Casino. Starting with a couple hundred bucks, he’d found
himself five grand to the good and decided he’d head to Thailand. So he rushed off to the airport and spent a couple of days in Bangkok with all the Thai bois he could buy. Arriving back in Australia, he bought himself a
bottle of Jim Beam at the airport. He then went around to his girlfiriend of
ten years and informed her that he was gay, not bi. (She had already
suspected.) As he drove home he came to the realisation that he was an
alcoholic and so once home he poured the bottle of whiskey down the sink.
Now single, he hit the cruising lounges for a bit of promiscuous sex. A little
bored with the sex and the lifestyle, he started taking speed to spice up the
fucking.
It was three or four months before I saw Chris next. This time, it was a Saturday
arvo and reasonably busy. I was at the desk reading and studying, when Chris
rocked up. We got to talking and catching up. About five or ten minutes into our
conversation, a couple of guys walked out of the lounge. They were talking to
each other about grabbing a bite to eat. Chris turned and looked at them for a
couple of minutes. Staring one, then the other, down until one of them asked him
what his problem was. A question to which Chris replied, “Nothing. What’s yours?”
The guy looked him up and down, and then left with his friend, heading down the
stairs. Chris then entered the lounge and stayed for about half an hour or so before
deciding to head off.
An hour or so later, the phone rang. It was Chris on the end of the line telling me he knew Johnny, and that if those two guys came back, to tell them that. To tell them
he knows Johnny and that he will come and get them. I told Chris that I’d pass on the
message and hung up. I went back to work. A couple of hours later, the two guys
came back to the lounge. On the way through they asked what that guy’s problem is.
I said I don’t know. They entered the lounge and I went back to my reading.
The next, and last, time I saw Chris was the Labour Day weekend in 2005. I was
downstairs, putting stickers on the backs of DVDs and talking films with Rick, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure run up the stairs. Rick noticed the figure too and got out from behind his desk and ran to the stairs, to tell the customer to pay for a ticket. There was a muffled reply and then I heard Rick muttering to himself as he ran upstairs. I continued putting stickers on the DVDs when I heard a scream from upstairs. I ran up the stairs and found Chris punching Rick in the face repeatedly. From the blood on the wall, it looked like there’d been quite a few punches. I ran across and tried to grab Chris off Rick. He turned and hit me on the side of the head. I slid down the wall and covered my face with my hands. By now, Rick had pushed the buzzer for the lounge. Chris rushed on into the lounge room.
Rick ran downstairs to call the police and I went to follow. As I reached the top of
the stairs, Chris spotted me. I turned to my left and ran into the toilet. I tried to shut the door on him. I wasn't quick enough. I lay on the ground, my hands covering my face, as he kicked me a couple of times. He then ran down the stairs. As I lay there on the floor
I heard a loud crash and bang and Rick screaming again. I ran downstairs to find the
counter smashed to the ground and Chris punching Rick again as he tried to speak into
the phone. Rick hung up the phone and Chris stepped back, threatening to put a bullet
in him (and me) if he ever called the pig. He then ran down the stairs and walked off
down the alley.
I followed him turning to get the police. He spotted me walking out the door and made to come back to Erotica Plus. I shut the door and from inside I called the police and an ambulance for Rick. As I stood there four colleagues came from the other stores to see what had happened. They were ready to beat the shit out of the guy.
Fifteen minutes later the police arrived. They took photos of the blood stained walls and steps and took our statements in the alley way, using the milkcrates from the Chinese shop next door as stools.
A little more than a month later in early May I got a call from the Sargeant at Flinders Street station to come in for a line up. I stood at the counter of Flinders Street Station looking through a series of photos. It took me little more than a couple of minutes to identify number nine as Chris. I was informed after identifying Chris that there would be a court case later on that year. I left and
had forgotten about the case, thinking that the police weren't doing anything about it, until May this year when the police informed me that Chris was about to go to hearing on twelve charges related to
the incident on Sunday 13th March 2005.
That hearing is now a court case that has been scheduled for the 19th October. I am to make an appearance at that case. I'm a little scared to think what that means.
VIGNETTE 2: DAVE
Dave was a cross dresser. I only saw him at the lounge a couple of times.
The first time would have been early on a Saturday morning. He came up to
the counter with a bag in his hand. He looked a little drunk, but that was
none of my concern. (Guys shot up in the toilets, so there was no
real drug policy to speak of.) He was probably in his mid to late twenties. He
wore a hat, tracksuit pants and a t-shirt. He asked to watch a video. I grabbed
the fifteen dollars from him and directed him to the booth. I went back to reading
the paper and drinking the coffee, glancing up every now and then to ensure that
the video that was playing in the lounge hadn't finished.
About twenty minutes later Dave walked from the booths to the counter. I looked
up at him. He was wearing a black dress and a green blouse. Under his dress,
he wore a pair of tights. His face was made up: lips bright red, eyeliner,
face painted quite thick. His hear was now a shoulder length wig. He asked to
enter the lounge. I grabbed the seven dollars from her. She entered the lounge, I
switched of his TV and went back to work, namely calling up for the lunch rounds.
An hour or so later I saw Dave walking down the stairs. He was back wearing his
trackies and t-shirts. I was climbing the stairs having completed the lunch round.
His face was still made up and he still had the wig on under his cap.
At the top of the stairs I turned the corner and headed towards the counter. A guy
was waiting for me. The video had finished. He asked me what that guy’s story was.
I said I didn’t know. He said that he would lie there on the couch, legs spread, masturbating. He would sit there, finger up his arse, the other on his hard cock as the video played. He would just sit there. No one would go near him. Everyone just stood there and watched, their eyes moving from the porn stars on the screen and back to the guy on the couch.
I changed the video and the guy at the counter entered the lounge. I went
back to my reading curious and interested at what I'd just saw. The next day at work
I told Rick about it and he said that Dave had been coming to the store for a couple of months. He'd first started watching dvd's downstairs and then one day he started wearing make up and a wig. Rick had always wondered when he'd start wearing drag.
It was a couple of months before I next saw Dave. This time he had
a goatee and his hair was longer, wavy, brown and shoulder length. He told me
which booth he was in. Number seven. He was wearing a backpack. He looked
slightly drunk again. I turned the video screen on and watched him work down
the corridor. It was a Sunday so I went back to reading my book.
About an hour later, he walked out of the booth. He was wearing a white
blouse through which a black bra could be seen. His hair was tied back in
pigtails, his lips painted a shade of pink, his eyes covered in black
eyeliner, his face heavily made up. His legs were covered in tights and
he wore a black dress. He asked for a ticket to the lounge. As he walked
towards the door, I called out to her.
“Do you do this often?” I asked.
“Occasionally,” she answered. “If I’m drunk or something. I usually get the
clothes from the street.”
“And what do you do with the clothes afterwards?”
“I throw them out.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I just do. I don’t need them anymore, really.”
I didn’t bother pressing any further, there was no need to, so I let her walk on through to the lounge and went back to reading my book. All I could think was he should have shaved off his goatee. He would have looked so much more the part.
The last time I saw Dave was later that day. He was still dressed up, although he looked more fashionable and better suited the part. The make up on the face was thinner and the goatee was gone. The blouse was now done up and the hair that had been poking through it before was now no longer visible. I commented that he looked much better without the beard and he thanked me, then entered the lounge.
He was still there when I left.
I wonder whether he still frequents the lounge. Whether he’s still Dave and more importanly whether he’s more comfortable with himself. I'd like to think he is.
posted by paradigm at 9:24 PM
2 Comments:
both are true. it's part of the world that i lived in and part of the guilt i feel. the last three sections are all non-fiction. will write soon, am feeling quite shitty at the moment.
Hey - I like these two vignettes - friends of mine have worked in sex-shops and sex-on-site venues - I also thought it must be fascinating. You write these people/events so well I can really feel that interest/detachment thing.
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