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THE BABB'S r~<a cetious Gonf 6??io.n$ by Michael Patrick After three years of gay life and week - end i regularity from sporadic bar and bedroom behaviour, I decided that the time had come for one old tired queen to indulge in a bit of off-the-track • fun. Knowing that my haunting desire for a new ' first” had noticeably narrowed, and my last big "first” was when I lost my cherry. I had to come up with something to arouse my egotism from its shallow grave At it would. I stopped off in a quaint little bar on 5th and West Peachtree because I had become such a regular at all the others that I felt I was disgracing my own decent self- respect. After I brushed away the illusion of a doorman checking my coat, derby, and cane, I walked into a black-light flare and immediately recognized that same pulsating music that always tears away my inhibitions and starts my hips grinding to the beat of a native drum long gone. To say the least, the patrons of the bar were about as ready for me as I was for them. Glad to find that it was more a cruise bar than anything else, I easily mellowed out. with the help of ol’ Smirnoff., and made my way in and out. back and forth in the crowd of queens and the like. Crusing a bit and getting not nearly as trashy as I wanted. I managed to kiss a few cheeks and grab a few buns before my eyes glazed over a sign that embodied in three words my eternal life quest; those being none other than "The Male Box.’’ Well “dahling.” nobody but nobody hangs a sign like that in front of my face and expects it to go unnoticed. So, hoping that it really was “The Male Box.” I half-floated, half- swished up the stairs. Maybe, just maybe , the owner knew that I had long been searching for a male box big enough to send me all the way to ecstasy, which to me is one big forest with a gigantic tree rising in the midst. Although letting myself get looser with each new song that came along, I noticed after a while that the fire had died in some of the patrons’ eyes. Hearing excited whispers for "MORE...” I finally de cided to let out all the wild woman in me, and give them more bump and grind than they had seen since Gypsy Rose Lee. Giving them a little ass when the time was right, and making ■pie “77 c|ecoicit<>rs studio inc COMPLETE INTERIOR DESIGN SERVICE 3796 Roswell Rd. Atlanta Ga. 261- SUPPORT OUR ADVERTISERS Send forb rand-new catalogue. Full Line of Adult Books • Magazines and 8 MM Movies 60 OC < X LU > < £ etBN' 2515 W. BROWARD BOULEVARD FORT LAUDERDALE, FLA. 33312 OPEN TILL 4 AM MON.-SAT. (305)587-9895 BRASS COCK RINGS For "STUD POWER!" 2", 1%" or IV2" only $2.95 Each 2 for $4.50 or 3 for $6.00 Order by Size Complete with Instructions Please add $1.00 for postage and handling Complete mail order service on all toys and paraphernalia. X > < m X > TO in love to the* fed velvet 'curtains was more than some of them could handle. I felt myself getting looser and looser, and eventually left no doubt in their minds as to what I had and what l liked. They were smiling so I wanted to be damn sure they had a reason; and honey. it was marvelous. What can 1 say? “The Male Box” was. without a doubt, the best thing I could ever have intrusted my tree to. While watching two young men dancing and exploiting their sexuality to no end. I had four too many screwdrivers and soon found myself in a closet, of all places, where 1 was to also don my “gay apparel so I could gyrate all over the stage and bar. Taking another couple of stiff drinks to get me out of the closet, 1 finally made my way to the. waiter’s station, which was, t o be my resting place between numbers. To be sure, the linoleum floor and red spotlights did nothing to enhance my vision of stardom and debut, but the liquor on my brain and the shivers in my shorts convince me that a lot of unused talent and unappreciated music was going to waste. Summoning my courage and trying to'be oblivious to the crowd. I trembled my way up to the tune of “Do it (do it ‘til you’re Satisfied)” and really did it; did it, and did it. Was I satisfied; especially when the bills, along with a few hands, found their way down the front of my briefs, and I could not even stay on the stage for all the drinks that were on a crash course with my hand When one dear gentleman asked me the fourth or fifth time to shed my briefs in favor of a G-string, and I got tired of saying, ’‘No, *v not right now,” I finally * laid it on the line. With his final “why,” instead of telling him that I was too shy, I smiled and whispered in my most seductive voice, “ini wait until next time; that way you’ll have a reason to come back. ” With that, he grabbed his topcoat and hat, and rushed out the door like the last mad masturbator. Finally, after hours of dancing and smiling, and drinking, the closing hour came nigh, and doing my best to hide the all-too- obvious fact that I was turned on by one of the patrons, I slowly made my v wW back to the dressing rqom, hand over crotch, and passedept on the floor. Flossie Florida Reports Bv Peler Thomas Good grief! Where is Flossie! Did the new owners fire the dear old thing. Heavens no! It was Easter weekend and all those ‘‘Where the Boys Are” college, men kept Flossie going so hard (and I do mean hard) that pen and paper were not to be had, though we hear a lot else was had &. had; Oh will she have a lot to tell us next month. The Easter bunny will tell all! is the pink hotel that sits on the sand that rolls to the ocean... the Poop Deck dining/disco that lives in the pink hotel that views the sand that rolls to the ocean... the fabulous faces that play on our beach and , lay in our sun and swim in our olympic-Stze pool and live in our beautiful oceanview rooms that are ready for anything... come to Lauderdale live at the Marlin Beach Hotel You never need to leave 'cause all we've got....; IA * n CM IA U) 8 is everything. hotel, poop deck 17 south atlantic boulevard, fort lauderdale, florida.