I'm no prude and no one's ever mistaken me for a saint, but I've never been much of a fan of places like Glitters, even the ones that don't smell like the insides of my sneakers. Maybe it's the pretense of it all. I mean, a lot of the performers were gay and were as enthusiastic about being pawed by the patrons as burn victims were eager to receive skin grafts from a leper colony.From The James Deans by Reed Farrel Coleman.
Nice.
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