The secret shame of Da's sordid past

[muckefuck]

Oh, yeah, there was one more thing I meant to report on Tuesday. In the bus on the way to Wally World, I ran into someone from my days in Bear Naked. I'd completely forgotten he lived in Rogers Park; perhaps I never knew it. He asked if I'd been to a "BNC" event lately and I had to tell them that I've left that lifestyle behind me for now.

What was it like? BNC had monthly events and, for a while, Nuphy and I were regular attendees. The first one I went to was in the suburbs, but the group got such a warm reception at Deek's that it became the regular meeting place. In its original incarnation, Deek's was a legendary leather bar in Boystown that got shut down (due to drug use, according to the rumours I've heard). That was before my time. I knew it in its reincarnation as a gay guesthouse with a difference in Rogers Park.

The difference is a fully-equipped dungeon in the basement.

BNC would rent out the space and charge $10/head for horny guys to come in, take off their clothes, and do what they felt like. This makes it sound all much more sordid than...well, actually, it probably sounds exactly as sordid as it was. But you wouldn't imagine from that description that a substantial portion of the receipts went to cheesecake and pizza and many people (such as I) would spend more time standing around gabbing than they would sucking and prodding. Heck, I can remember evenings where I had as much fun dancing as I did fooling around with anyone.

Case in point, I don't know if I ever fooled around with the guy on the bus at Deeks, despite the fact that, as one of the volunteers who kept the organisation going, he was there almost every time. (Maybe once for old time's sake before I quit the scene; it's hard to remember.) But I chatted with him every time. Like a lot of BNC attendees, he's in that class of people I wouldn't go out of my way to track down but who I really miss running into.

If only there were some way to see them still without having to get naked...

Comments

[rollick.livejournal.com]

Any hetboys who got squicked out by this really need tolerance implants. I mean, my god, man, this is practically a G-rated post. And there aren't even any pictures.

[princeofcairo.livejournal.com]

I agree. I was expecting something along the lines of Henry Miller meets J.K. Huysmans, and it turns out to be essentially nude John Cheever.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

MADE YOU LOOK!

I was originally going to go into more detail, but I wanted to get the frick out of here and eat dinner. Now, thanks to you, I'm going to have the image of an essentially nude John Cheever in my head all day.

[prilicla.livejournal.com]

This may mess up your G rating, but I have to ask--what sort of equipment would one find in a fully-equipped dungeon?

[lhn.livejournal.com]

prilicla, after all these years, you have to ask? Ten-foot-wide corridors, secret doors, acid traps, kobolds... Does muckefuck have to draw you a map? (On graph paper, natch.)

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

I could post some really choice URLs here, but, clearly, I'm being relied upon as a G-rated intermediary between my friends and the big bad world of Hot! Gay! Sex!!!

Now that I think about it, I don't remember much in that dungeon besides a sling. There was no St. Andrew's cross; no gynecological examination table; no hot wax; no whips, slappers, and paddles. I was thinking of some of the other places I've been to, like the one on spookyfruit and welcomerain's old block or the one above the Lake Street bar that, alas, has gone the way of AA Meat Market.

[grunter.livejournal.com]

Now, now - don't you think you're selling Deeks' just a little bit short in the "fully equipped dungeon" department?

Yes, immediately to the right of the entryway into the "dungeon" was the sling cubbyhole, surrounded by four mirrored walls and a mirrored ceiling. On the floor beneath the sling, for folks that got into an "alternative" view of the "slingsters" above (and who didn't much mind the slippery "drippings"), was a padded, pleather-ish floor.

Moving around the room clockwise to the left, there was the first of several glass-enclosed bookcases, recessed a bit into the wall. This particular one contained probably 100-200 rubber adult, uh, "toys" of various sizes, sculptural quality and flesh color, just crammed together all willy-nilly - like some gleefully obscene piece of public art. The view to the toys was obscured by the big, black homemade press-board St. Andrew's cross that was usually pushed flat against the wall to accomodate the thickest concentration of the orgy-room crowd. (I specifically remember a New Year's Eve party where a certain Mr. Posen took much pleasure reddening the backside (and frontside and side-side and all manner of exposed skin, really) of a squeaking-in-painful-pleasure leatherboy with his vast collection of wooden pallets.)

What was the orgy-room crowd coalescing about? Why the red vinyl dentist's chair, of course - where the occupant of the chair would lay back and be offered all manner of tingly engorged naughty bits for him to, well, do what he would with.

Behind the dentist's chair - again moving clockwise around the room - was occasionally a smallish display table that held an assortment of various leather costumes - vests, harnesses, hotpants, etc. That table could be moved into the storage closet when the crowd was expected to be heavier than usual - as on the various holiday events.

(cont.)-

[grunter.livejournal.com]

Continuing down the back wall was a bedside table that would hold baskets of condoms, lubricants and paper towels. In the center of that back wall was the queen-sized bed - of which a man of average height, say 5'10" or so, could stand on the mattress, raise his arms to the ceiling and hold himself securely in place to allow more convenient "standing" access for oral bottoms seeking his various dangly bits. The bed was also usually the place where the older men (the papabears and the daddybears that I have - y'know - a little "thing" for) of the BNC would gravitate towards, laying sprawled in the middle of the plain white bedsheets watching the action transpire all around them. It was the center of the maelstrom - so to speak.

To the left of the bed was a matching bedside table, again covered in various "party" supplies. Above the bed was a long, narrow concrete windowsill. You could usually gauge the quality of the party by counting the number of little brown bottles (of "Rush room de-odorizer") that were lined up there. The best shindigs usually had upwards of 10.

Depending on the year you're talking about, the right further-most corner, diagonally across from the sling cubby, either had another recessed, glass-covered bookcase (showcasing a collection of whipping implements and other "play" accessories) or it was furnished with a number of dilapidated bar stools.

Again continuing around the room, in the right hand corner closest to the entryway was the television nook, holding a 30 inch television on one of those tilted suspended shelves, usually showing all manner of bear and/or leather adult "training films" (and usually serving as the only light source for the entire party). Beneath the television was a more comfy, somewhat beat-up recliner type chair, that was eventually replaced with a soft, grey frameless futon, very much like the futon that sat on the right-hand side of the entryway.

And that was just the "dungeon / party" room where most of the serious "action" took place. Besides that, there was the upstairs "theater" room with a sort of more formal seating arrangement and a television projector that cast bear and/or leather films nearly 10 feet high on the white walls there. Going further up in the house were the actual guest rooms which were occasionally themed - usually in a leather, dungeon-esque manner.

Oh, and I can't forget to include a description of the open-air trough-style urinal located outside the men's room back down in the basement. That's right, you didn't have to wait in line to use the restroom if all you had to do was take a quick piss. The trough was on the far side of a concrete brick wall that only came up to about chest height, whereby you could rest your beer on the top, carry on a conversation with whoever you were chatting up previously and do your business all at the same time. Very relaxed and comfortable - a feature that every gay-party space should have.

Why do I have such a vivid recollection of the place? Well, that's because two of the very first bears I ever met in the city of Chicago were Doug and Don - the couple responsible for starting the BNC organization. They just happened to live in the townhouse development that was directly across the street from my apartment in Downer's Grove. I used to help load up the truck with all the party supplies, shop for the munchies, sodas and beers, select the "training" films for the the evening's festivities and basically just get the party started. Ocassionally - if the parties went really, really late (and back in the beginning of the club, the really fun stuff didn't start happening until well after 2 a.m.), the three of us would end up conked out, sleeping in the well-worn dungeon-room bed.

Let me tell you - you'll have an entirely different appreciation of the parties when the next morning, you have to tip-toe delicately through the pools of fluids and discarded condoms on your way to brush your teeth.

*sigh*

Oh, how I miss Deeks.

The BNC in its present incarnation just can't hold a candle to the earlier years. I mean, who wants an orgy to "peak" before 11 p.m. at night?

Heathens - I tell you. Nobody but utter cretins would consider a party "over" at midnight.

;)

[grunter.livejournal.com]

Wait - I did a boo-boo. The sling cubby-hole was immediately to the left of the entryway.

How could I have gotten that crucial detail wrong?

I feel so shamed right now.

;)

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

WOW. I mean, wow. You'd think it was YOUR HOUSE.

At least you've explained why my recollections of the contents are so inconsistent: It sounds like the place had basically everything the other dungeons had, but the furnishings were so often pushed out of the way that they don't figure strongly in any of my memories. I don't remember anyone ever using the "accoutrements" besides the rubbers and lube. But, then again, half the time my eyes were probably filled with stars for the cutest daddybear of the night.

[lhn.livejournal.com]

WOW. I mean, wow. You'd think it was YOUR HOUSE.

No kidding-- I think you actually could draw a map on graph paper, given the level of detail. With descriptive powers like that, I'd suggest that grunter take up dungeon mastering, were it not for the potential for confusion as to what I meant. :-)

(As it was, I was imagining our band of doughty adventurers coming upon the scene. "Guiar casts a cure spell on the human undergoing torture with wooden pallets and then moves to free him. Calanar does a detect magic on the items in the bookcases, but doesn't try to open them till Owlet can check for traps. Korgrim, seeing that none of the denizens are armed, shouts an invocation to Kord and moves to grapple with the largest of them. Owlet tests out the contents of one of the potion bottles on the windowsill by placing a drop on his tongue. Davis, reconnoitering the other rooms, discovers an item enchanted to produce a continuous illusion complete with sound...")

[bunj.livejournal.com]

Way to get in touch with your inner 12-yr old geek, LHN. Remind me never to go with you into some steam tunnels.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I've already complimented lhn on the most GEEK-ASS response anywhere in my journal. He needs no warning labels, since nothing explicit could penetrate the incredible Shield of Geekiness he bears before him.

[lhn.livejournal.com]

GEEKERY APPEARS ON INTERNET

LiveJournal.com First Target

Unprecedented Outbreak Appears on Journal of Noted Minotaur Language Scholar
(Could Comic Book Conventions, Computer Trade Conferences Be Next?)

"This is a worrying trend," noted a prominent analyst. "If it's not possible to have an discussion online without this sort of thing appearing, is anywhere truly safe?"

(cont'd on p. A18)