The Beef Ball
Jul. 7th, 2003 08:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosIf you watch Queer As Folk then you will be able to picture where I spent the Sunday night of Pride weekend. Club Babylon in the show is Toronto's all-night dance club, Fly, on Gloucester Street. It's an excellent choice for filming. An odd labyrinth of basement corridors in the front leads to a large open dance floor in back. A second-floor balcony overlooks all four sides.
In reality there is no back room where "anything goes"—Toronto police cracked down on sex in the bars several years ago. On the dancer floor, however, subtle and not-so-subtle foreplay does occur. The bar where Michael, Brian, Emmett and Teddy hang out is there, and so are the stairs, and especially that wide balcony view used to such advantage in the TV show.
That is where Duncan and I, Steve and several of his friends perched for most of the night.
Fly is usually frequented by circuit boys, young and beautiful gay men strung out on a trail mix of party drugs. But Sunday night was billed the Beef Ball, so the place got invaded by many of the same men who might have attended the Leather Ball the night before.
The crowd was slightly transformed. The Opera House on Saturday night had a full leather dress code, and felt like a meat market. Although many at Fly on Sunday were dressed in leather and denim, there was not a strict dress code and it had more of a dance club atmosphere. We went down to dance for a while.
The one unfortunate thing about the weekend was that Duncan didn't enjoy himself as much as I did. It was his first Pride since coming out of the closet this winter. Personal insecurity caused him some discomfort. He became focused on the fact that while he did not have a partner, I was meeting people and seeming to have more fun. After going separate ways on Saturday evening, he asked to hang out with me Sunday night, and I was happy to have him along. I had introduced him to Steve after the parade on Sunday afternoon. They both have lively senses of humour, and connected readily. Their easy rapport made me happy. Perhaps Duncan would recover some enjoyment from the weekend after all. On the other hand, Steve and I were busy connecting on a different level.
At 12:30 on Monday morning Duncan suddenly announced he was leaving Fly. He would go to the Eagle for a drink and then turn in. At the time I felt some uncomfortable vibes, but amid the dance club noise and glamour I couldn't have played therapist even if I had wanted to. I already knew he was having trouble connecting with people. I was happy to include him, but expected him to make an effort on his own behalf. Apparently it wasn't working, so I let him go. I didn't find out until he told me the next day that he was jealous of me and Steve.
Steve and I and his friends eventually returned to our roost on the balcony. By then the floor was so hot that most of the dancers had doffed their shirts. I was in heaven, looking down on a sea of muscular shoulders, bumping and turning. Steve was captivated, too, and didn't seem uncomfortable sharing the experience with me. Sometimes one of us would draw attention to one of the beefier specimens in the spectacle below us. Once Steve pointed to three men engaged in an erotic, three-way kiss.
He knows lots of people and is obviously popular, so often passersby would stop to talk. I knew a few people, too, and even received an unexpected pat on the butt from an ex-boyfriend. I can hardly follow conversations in those environments, so I don't worry about it. Mostly I was content to stand watching the crowd. His friends Don and Ole, an attractive bear couple, spent most of the night standing and visiting with us. The chemistry between them was an ample and pleasant entertainment in itself.
Every once in a while Steve would pull me toward him and plant his lips on mine for several minutes. It happened a couple times on the dance floor and several times upstairs. The one I remember best was the time I had my back pressed to the balcony railing. It gave me the enchanting and arousing feeling that while his night was full of distractions, I was the chiefest. And for me, with all the pleasant things that happened over the weekend, those moments were the highlight. I savoured them up to the final one.
Late in the night, part of the balcony got cleared for a show much different from the one I saw the night before. I even got to participate because I know Ron, a friend of Steve Buczek, the host of the evening.
The dream sequence surrounded a striking drag queen with real, beautiful, practically bare breasts. Her costume was snug, scanty and glittery. She was attended by four beefy men in boots, jeans and white t-shirts (my ex-boyfriend among them). They began swabbing the floor and railing with rags, then shifted their attention to her shiny leather boots. The cleaning action was soon taken over by their hands and tongues. At a certain cue in the music, Ron and I triggered air guns from either side of the room that showered confetti over the dance floor. The bare-chested crowd became submerged for a moment in a sea of glitter. Then a motorcycle appeared on the set. The draq queen mounted it, started and revved the engine to loud cheers, and rode out of sight.
Shortly before 4 a.m. on Monday Steve had to leave to drive home with his friend, John. So I walked them back to the corner of Church and Wellesley, kissed him goodnight and headed back to my hotel room.
~~~~
Today Steve and I met for a late lunch at the Cornerstone in Guelph. It was our first time alone together for more than a few minutes. I had pad thai and he had three-bean burritos.
I am conscious of our differences. I am serious and introverted. He is funny and extraverted. But when I manage to get over my self-consciousness, I feel bouyed by his creative humour and gift for conversation.
And I found out he knows![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chrisglass through a different online connection. How fitting: two sexy artists with incredible wit.
The world keeps getting smaller.
Steve has asked, and I'm going to give him the link to my journal. So much for my outward reticence. I hope he doesn't mind getting to know a storyteller.
In reality there is no back room where "anything goes"—Toronto police cracked down on sex in the bars several years ago. On the dancer floor, however, subtle and not-so-subtle foreplay does occur. The bar where Michael, Brian, Emmett and Teddy hang out is there, and so are the stairs, and especially that wide balcony view used to such advantage in the TV show.
That is where Duncan and I, Steve and several of his friends perched for most of the night.
Fly is usually frequented by circuit boys, young and beautiful gay men strung out on a trail mix of party drugs. But Sunday night was billed the Beef Ball, so the place got invaded by many of the same men who might have attended the Leather Ball the night before.
The crowd was slightly transformed. The Opera House on Saturday night had a full leather dress code, and felt like a meat market. Although many at Fly on Sunday were dressed in leather and denim, there was not a strict dress code and it had more of a dance club atmosphere. We went down to dance for a while.
The one unfortunate thing about the weekend was that Duncan didn't enjoy himself as much as I did. It was his first Pride since coming out of the closet this winter. Personal insecurity caused him some discomfort. He became focused on the fact that while he did not have a partner, I was meeting people and seeming to have more fun. After going separate ways on Saturday evening, he asked to hang out with me Sunday night, and I was happy to have him along. I had introduced him to Steve after the parade on Sunday afternoon. They both have lively senses of humour, and connected readily. Their easy rapport made me happy. Perhaps Duncan would recover some enjoyment from the weekend after all. On the other hand, Steve and I were busy connecting on a different level.
At 12:30 on Monday morning Duncan suddenly announced he was leaving Fly. He would go to the Eagle for a drink and then turn in. At the time I felt some uncomfortable vibes, but amid the dance club noise and glamour I couldn't have played therapist even if I had wanted to. I already knew he was having trouble connecting with people. I was happy to include him, but expected him to make an effort on his own behalf. Apparently it wasn't working, so I let him go. I didn't find out until he told me the next day that he was jealous of me and Steve.
Steve and I and his friends eventually returned to our roost on the balcony. By then the floor was so hot that most of the dancers had doffed their shirts. I was in heaven, looking down on a sea of muscular shoulders, bumping and turning. Steve was captivated, too, and didn't seem uncomfortable sharing the experience with me. Sometimes one of us would draw attention to one of the beefier specimens in the spectacle below us. Once Steve pointed to three men engaged in an erotic, three-way kiss.
He knows lots of people and is obviously popular, so often passersby would stop to talk. I knew a few people, too, and even received an unexpected pat on the butt from an ex-boyfriend. I can hardly follow conversations in those environments, so I don't worry about it. Mostly I was content to stand watching the crowd. His friends Don and Ole, an attractive bear couple, spent most of the night standing and visiting with us. The chemistry between them was an ample and pleasant entertainment in itself.
Every once in a while Steve would pull me toward him and plant his lips on mine for several minutes. It happened a couple times on the dance floor and several times upstairs. The one I remember best was the time I had my back pressed to the balcony railing. It gave me the enchanting and arousing feeling that while his night was full of distractions, I was the chiefest. And for me, with all the pleasant things that happened over the weekend, those moments were the highlight. I savoured them up to the final one.
Late in the night, part of the balcony got cleared for a show much different from the one I saw the night before. I even got to participate because I know Ron, a friend of Steve Buczek, the host of the evening.
The dream sequence surrounded a striking drag queen with real, beautiful, practically bare breasts. Her costume was snug, scanty and glittery. She was attended by four beefy men in boots, jeans and white t-shirts (my ex-boyfriend among them). They began swabbing the floor and railing with rags, then shifted their attention to her shiny leather boots. The cleaning action was soon taken over by their hands and tongues. At a certain cue in the music, Ron and I triggered air guns from either side of the room that showered confetti over the dance floor. The bare-chested crowd became submerged for a moment in a sea of glitter. Then a motorcycle appeared on the set. The draq queen mounted it, started and revved the engine to loud cheers, and rode out of sight.
Shortly before 4 a.m. on Monday Steve had to leave to drive home with his friend, John. So I walked them back to the corner of Church and Wellesley, kissed him goodnight and headed back to my hotel room.
~~~~
Today Steve and I met for a late lunch at the Cornerstone in Guelph. It was our first time alone together for more than a few minutes. I had pad thai and he had three-bean burritos.
I am conscious of our differences. I am serious and introverted. He is funny and extraverted. But when I manage to get over my self-consciousness, I feel bouyed by his creative humour and gift for conversation.
And I found out he knows
chrisglass through a different online connection. How fitting: two sexy artists with incredible wit.The world keeps getting smaller.
Steve has asked, and I'm going to give him the link to my journal. So much for my outward reticence. I hope he doesn't mind getting to know a storyteller.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 05:32 pm (UTC)And, completely off topic, I made some of my coffee ice cream with chocolate chunks again. Want some?
no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 05:52 pm (UTC)Thank you for reminding me about QAF. I have to catch the bus in 14 minutes to watch it at Crystal's place.
I'll see you tomorrow. :-)
no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 05:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 10:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 06:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-07 10:55 pm (UTC)