winter wonderland
4 january

So there I was, at Penn Station, scene of some of my creepiest sexcapades. I wondered if anyone in the McDonald’s knew that the site was a notorious tea room. Three billion served- or at least shot out of the endless parade of cock- and that was just in one afternoon. This was where I saw my first gargantuan dick: before Pen(is) Station, I didn’t think they grew that big. Unfortunately it was not attached to someone I wanted to get next to, even with my ‘generous’ standards.

But I didn’t have time to reminisce, my anxiety over dragging luggage through Manhattan pulled me into the subway. New York hint: buy a seven day subway pass. Headed uptown to Sergio Real’s place, near where I’d be staying.

The snow was piled high everywhere since the city had only gotten to plowing the major avenues. On the side streets cars iced under a perfect foot thick blanket of snow, taxis drunkenly slid by, their spinning tires firing off sprays of slush. Water seeped into my boots as I hoisted my suitcase up the stairs to Sam’s stoop.

Coming into his apartment is like stepping into a Turkish boudoir, sensually decorated yet cozy, and overheated by a steam radiator as is typical in New York. The perfect place to drop your junk. After some small talk, I let him get back to sleep- he had only gone to bed a few hours ago, and headed to Pop Tart’s.

Waiting for me on the Upper East Side was my best friend in New York, one of my best friends anywhere. My torment was about to begin. Pop Tarts’ second favorite pastime is winding me up with his boundless, witty, laughable observations- of me. I give it right back to him, never as good, but I get the occasional read spot on. His number one favorite pastime is seducing older men, maybe prey upon would be a better verb...

I wasn’t able to get hold of my host, so he asked me to stay the night at his place. This was not an offer of generosity, it was a chance to torment me. Another hobby of Pop Tart’s is to keep me up late laughing. The more tired and weak I become, the more he enjoys it. But there was a party to attend. I had a client, so after helping him glam up for the party, we grabbed a swerving taxi downtown. After dropping him off I continued to Chelsea.

Sometimes I can get an idea of what a guy looks like by how he sounds on the phone. The man I was about to see, I had a feeling he was going to be very sexy. Something in his voice. And soon it would be something in his throat...

What defines London for me right now: rugby, bad sex (the two are not related), my very high school looking date book with cut-outs of men taped over the illustrations, my DIY indoor garden project.

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