really hot springs
29 march

I'd spent most of the week in Palm Springs, helping Will Clark prepare for the 'Bad Boys Pool Party', his annual fund raiser for Aid for AIDS's Joey Stephano Fund. But not without squeezing in a date in LA with the Prince Charming I met at the GayVN Awards.

He snuck out of work early and I took him up to the Bat Caves in Bronson Canyon, then we hiked up into Griffith Park where we found a perfect perch for a short make out session. Nearly everyone else we saw in the park consisted of male couples (and their dogs). I almost expected Joan Cusak to come running out of the chapparal in a wedding dress screaming 'is the whole world gay?'

And that's exactly what you'd be screaming in Palm Springs. Not only is it so obviously homo, but as far as porn is concerned, this place is destined to become the new Valley. I spent the week inside a gated golfing community, in the house of the mother of one of the charity officials. I saw more laborers than residents. And as much as I think of golf as one of the vilest sports ever created, I truly loved being able to sleep with the sliding glass doors open, caressed by a citrus blossom breeze. Yes, I wrestled with the inherent environmental consequences and employment inequities that allow one to enjoy citrus blossoms in a desert, so I vowed should I ever become mayor of Palm Springs, only dry courses and a high minimum city wage.

I met up with my friend Sid, who moved here from LA about five months ago. It was so great to see him again, and great to see how well he took to his new town. I told him about the stalker's friend being in my house, and we both agreed, don't let it get to me, there was nothing I could do to undo what had already happened.

We went bar hopping, which in Palm Springs took three minutes to enter and exit the bars on the one block of Arenas Street before settling at Hunters. We did take a side trip to one of the 'outer bars', something like 'Tool Box', which took us a half hour to find- we passed it thinking it was an extension of the adjacent hardware store.

I got back to the golf course and received a page. I had an assignment in the heart of notorious Warm Sands. This guy was into being spanked, and by the time I arrived, he had laid out a full array of paddles and whips to be used on him in addition to my bare hands. He also set out apparatus to use on his nipples. I amped the intensity with a couple tricks of my own using commonly found household items.

First I tressed up his large, obviously well-worked nipples, and rigged them so I could easily torture them with one hand while using the other for slapping his ass.

I began with the soft stuff and soon was literally keeping the 'beat' to the late 20th century rock music on the stereo, applying my theory that if there is an existing audible rhythm, you should work with, and not against, it. When the hour was over it was time for last part of the session: at his request I was to give him twenty five whacks, with a particular paddle and with as much force as I could.

I walloped him hard, and stopped after he counted out the first three. This gave him time to recover and me time to gear up for another set. While he reached to crank the volume on the stereo, I noticed he sported a full boner. I was impressed at the amount of pain this guy took. By the time I whacked number twenty five, he was pulling his pud, asking for a hundred more, but I declined. He came all over the carpet, I gently unrigged his nipples and patted him as I told him what a good boy he was.

Friday, day before the big party, I met with some more volunteers at The Villa to get a look at the site and unload stuff from the caravan of cars. The Villa had changed since the time Sid and I stayed there and were terrorized by what he coined 'The Night of the Horny Dead'. I had stepped out one night to get some fresh air, and while I was gone, Sid answered a knock at the door, thinking I had left my keys behind. He was greeted by a walking sex zombie (someone else, not me) and in horror slammed the door and hid under the covers until I got back.

When Will showed up we walked next door to 'Wally World', site for the party, dubbed the gay Playboy Mansion: two big pools, two jacuzzies, a park-sized bathroom, guest houses, etc. -I never did see the whole thing. Will and his posse of volunteers were let in and basically given little more than an hour to get set up. That meant it would all have to be done early the next morning. I also learned I'd have to find another place to sleep for the night, since the person who was supposed to house Will and me that night had... renegged? and the house where I had been staying was already full of other volunteers who made the trip that day. Will offered to share his bed at the motel he moved to, but remembering rumors about my snoring, I'd research another alternative.

But there were more interesting rumors to research, like the story about the guy who died during one of the legendary wild parties at Wally's World. I want to know, did he have a smile on his face? And did Mr. and Mrs. Brad Pitt really rent out the property for a weekend of debauchery? And did they go to Target?

And if they did, did they have the same trouble finding sunscreen? I had no trouble finding interested parties, but it took me nearly an hour just to find sunscreen. I phoned Sid's mobile and we hung out at The Villa's pool without pestering from any sex zombies.

That evening Sid and I went out to dinner at a little family Mexican place he liked. We took one of four tables outside to enjoy another perfect night, the gentle breeze, the star filled sky... so imagine my feathers getting a little ruffled with the man at the next table yelling into his cell phone. Something about if he didn't get a certain code he'd call Pac Bell and get the code any way and then throw a certain woman's possesions into the pool and burn them. What would Miss Manners do in such a situation?

I didn't want to sit inside, so when the gentleman caller was finished I asked if he was through. He immediately launched into a hostile verbal attack, his main argument being he got there first, and obviously he was finished, wasn't the phone hung up? He asked this last question several times in rapid sucession. I was glad my posessions were still safely stored far from any pools.

But he shut up. After inhaling down some food, he stormed off with an 'enjoy your dinner, gentelmen' thrown in to remind us of his status as alpha male. I felt sorry for his friend, who remained silent. Ballsy Sid replied, "I hope things work out for you," and then confessed to me that he had turned off his own phone during the altercation.

We revisited Our Anus Street, going straight to Hunters, host of one of the pre-party events, for a 'Porn Star for a Day' contest. We took a seat at one of the patio tables and played Recovery Rascals: slowly rotating the table, pretending to steal drinks from unsuspecting lushes so we could still claim, "I haven't 'bought' a drink in years!"

Sid spotted a lesbian nurse friend playing pool and brought her over. She was still beaming from the Dinah Shore Weekend ('there were naked women in the fountain'). Suddenly an art gallery owner I fancied a couple years ago recognized me and was shouting another name I answer to. This may have confused our Sapphic pal, though I'll never know, because someone noticed her hair.

And not just anyone, someone who worked for Jose Eber, smoked from a cigarette holder and, without a trace of irony, declared San Francisco 'the Paris of America'. Sid and I sat there stunned, as if we had been transported to an animatronic recreation of 'Boys in the Band'. I needed some fresh air, so I excused myself and wove my way to the men's room.

On my way back I ran into the thick of a porn cluster: Dylan Reese, Caesar, Blue Blake, Dino Phillips, this gorgeous new Italian guy Giovanni, and others, and right there at the edge, my old boss.

It was great to see him, I hadn't had time to even dig out his number to call him, though I did tell him to attend this contest. He'd been through a lot of difficulties ever since I left for England, so I was pleasantly surpised to find out that he managed to find love in the midst of it all. I was truly happy for him, even more so when he offered a couch for me to crash on. He said he'd make arrangements for me to get in a side entrance.

So, I found a place to sleep, but lost Sid, and the nurse, and the gallery guy. By now the club was jammed packed but I found Sid and brought him over to the boss. The contest started and Will paraded the candidates up to a go-go box, but Sid wanted to leave and I needed to get my things from Bohemian Grove, so we didn't stay to see who won Porn Star for a Day.

At Enviromental Acres I ended up waking up some poor soul, as someone had locked the deadbolt which no one had the key for. I apologized, then stuffed my suitcases as quietly as I could and drove off to the boss's. It was now very late, so I tried my best to be quiet and set my pager alarm for 7:30. Under the blanket, more for modesty than for warmth, I quickly fell asleep.

Saturday morning- early- I only had time for a glass of water and an express shave before quickly scribbling a thank you note and dashing out without making a sound, letting everyone else sleep. When I got to Wally World I noticed I had left my wallet and house keys back at the boss's, but there wasn't time to go back, and anyway I did have some cash on me.

Immediately a small crew went to work stuffing goody bags. Last year I didn't get to take one home and was determined to sneak one off this time. We kept seeing hummingbirds getting very curious, then I noticed not one but two tiny hummingbird nests. More volunteers arrived, and up went the banners, the tables for the silent auction, food, bars, now the complex was abuzz with activity. I got granted a breakfast leave and ran down to Trader Joe's for some finger food to bring back.

At one point the volunteers were gathered at the main house to go over the rules, the only one I remember being no sex at the party. I guess since the party had not actually begun when one of my compadres and I snuck off for a quickie in a utility closet, I hadn't actually broken any rules. And that time later was at the end of the party and far enough removed from everything that I don't think that counted either.

The party itself was splendid. The weather perfect, the men gorgeous and uninhibited, and the porn stars cooperative when I fetched them to take their shifts at the autograph table. Among the stars were Kurt Young, Zak Spears, Logan Reed, Casey Williams, Robert Black, my current favorites Caesar and Dylan Reese, and more guys whose names escape me, not because they weren't outstanding, I just can't remember names as well after three weeks. Other industry guests and volunteers included Sergio Real, Michael Knight, Wade Neff, Spike, Chad Donovan, Joshua Scott, Leo Buck, Mark Kleim, Micky Skee, Momma (who again impressed us as a drag queen not afraid to get into the water), and many, many others. Dino Phillips and Kevin Kramer flagged by the poolside.

After all the stars took their turn at the signing table, I took my turn for a little fun in the big pool, where I met the studly Shane Torque, creator of www.Hookonline.org. We became quick buds, having exchanged lots of e-mail, and he wowed the crowd with flips and one naked dive.

The only regret I have is not attempting a flip off the diving board- something I did a lot as a kid, one time doing forty three in sucession- into snapping turtle infested waters- before getting too dizzy to continue. Now as a grown-up, I just flat chickened out.

At the end of the event, after helping pack up and close down (and after stripping naked out of my bathing suit in the Villa parking lot), I was too tired to do much else except accompany another volunteer for dinner at a local chain and give him a little dessert at his motel afterwards.

I skipped the Official After Party, which looked like it was going to be a non-stop orgy. I just didn't have it in me, so to speak, so I made my way back to the golf course, where I'd spend my last night. And then I remembered I had left my wallet and some keys at the boss's. I called a couple times but got no answer. I'd stop by on my way out of town the next day.

That morning, I drove up to the boss's, and went in the side entrance and was surprised to find two strangers, as I'm sure they were surprised to meet me, but after explaining who I was and what I did, it was alright. I found my stuff, thanked them and left to find some breakfast in Palm Springs. The boss wasn't in.

I bid a telephone good-bye to Sid, then headed west to visit relatives in San Bernadino and San Diego, delivering a bag of toys my aunt had me schlep from New York. I rushed back to my last night in LA, determined to make up for missing the previous night's After Party with a little group action of my own.

I had a favorite haunt in LA where I usually had a good time, and since I hadn't been in six months, I thought I'd drop in for a little bit. I didn't want to be out late as I needed to get up early again, this time to return my rental car and catch a flight- after going to my mail drop to get a check, then to my bank, then to get some money orders to bay some overdue bills- all this before a noon flight.

I told myself if I got into LA before eleven, I'd drop by the haunt for a quick bite and retire early. A quick exit off the freeway and a parking spot later, I was walking to the location and found the door locked- the place had been shut down. But not my sex drive.

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