Tuesday, July 29, 2008

La Casita

I paid the 95 peso entry fee and checked my bag at the front desk, being buzzed into the main part of La Casita, the naughty part, La Casita being a sex club in the Roma neighborhood of Mexico City. I wandered through the place, maze-like hallways, stairways taking you to random dark rooms with porn playing, and, like most sex clubs, lots of people walking around, looking, always looking, either too shy or too picky to start jerking off with the strangers walking past them, also looking, so much of the looking and not looking, trying hard not to make eye contact with those people looking your way who you wish would not.

I was beginning to regret my purchase, the place being very barebones and lacking even showers or steamrooms, amenities I for some reason thought standard, them being standard even at the Oaxaca places I went to. The place was creepy, there weren´t any condoms provided, and my brain, always with the leaping to wild nightmarish visions, imagined myself being pulled into one of these seemingly empty dark rooms and raped.

Finally, I made eyes with some cute man, tough looking, and followed him into one of the rooms. He pulled out his dick and I dropped to my knees, surprised, in a good way, by the size of his dick, the thing massive, making this already sexy man even sexier. The darkness and the lack of attachment to this person made the situation purely physical, those sensations heightened so much, me feeling pleasurable feelings of ecstasy in a way I haven´t in a while. He kissed me in the right way and, through the little light available, made the cutest smile between kisses. He felt right and touched right, and him kissing my neck, my legs, and my dick felt so right.

For a while, I wondered if he was saying a prayer, saying something elaborate over and over again that I couldn´t understand, my Spanish obviously lacking. He slapped me as I was sucking his dick, understanding what it is I liked and doing those things. There was an amazing mixture of pain and gentleness - the two are both necessary ingredients and so often people do not understand that.

After stretching this out for close to an hour, both of us so turned on and having so much fun, we both came together while strangers, still dressed, still looking, watched as we did so. We buttoned up, I said adios, and headed to the exit.

There, I collected my checked bag and was about to leave when the guy behind the counter started saying something totally incomprehensible to me. I eventually understood that I needed to return my entry card. I checked my pockets and it was not there, obviously having fallen out in the darkness while I had my pants down. I told him I had lost it inside. He started talking really fast, me understanding none of it except that he wanted me to pay an additional 25 pesos for this lost card. I asked if I could go in and look for it. He said no, was getting this smirky attitude that gay dudes love to get, and was saying stuff I didn´t understand. Other people started to observe this situation, it becoming very embarrasing. Among the watchers was the dude I had just hooked up with who spoke no English and couldn´t really help me.

I told the guy that I wasn´t going to pay. I said Adios as a question. He said no, said a lot more stuff I didn´t understand. I again said I wasn´t paying and that I was leaving. He called someone, the police I think, and started talking about a problema. At this point, I ran out the door, quite shamed by all the onlookers, and ran around the corner, put on my long sleeve shirt, and turned some more corners, convinced someone was going to come after me for the 25 pesos, convinced that the police were on their way, that the punishment for skipping out on a 25 peso fee at a gay sex club might not be too kind from the Mexican police. I eventually took it easy, my heart still racing, and sat again by the Insurgentes subway stop, watched gays and teens out in the brilliant dusk, and got nervous with each passing police officer, them quite numerous in this city.

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