EXOTIC orgy | Pocketmags.com
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A last Summer fling I kept telling myself; something to raise the spirits and take my mind off approaching Autumn. And thus, my little trolls, I found myself on August 25 in Dublin's newest gay venue -MINSKY'S at 2 Ely Place (off St. Stephen's Green).

The night's fare was advertised as Male Stripper and Exotic Snacks. I'll have a bit of both I thought smugly. Disporting myself with cute escort Timmy we arrived at our destination and were shown downstairs by the shockingly tall but sculptured David the Doorman. At the foot of the stairs we bumped into Tommy, an old (as in years of friendship) flaming queen from Phibsborough who's now earning a packet and living it up in London. Similar story for many of our closest, n'est-ce pas?

We sidled over to a plush sofa in the 'conservatory', just off the bar area.

As we sipped our martinis we surveyed the crowd which included many of the leather boys spotted earlier in the Parliament. There was a pleasant atmosphere with Alfred, the Bar Manager, spinning an eclectic variety of music in between serving the exotic-hungry punters. Now and then Alfred would toss back his luxuriously long, thick black mane, scan...» the crowd and making sure that Busboy Mick got the deliciously hot and cold hor-d'oeuvres to the milling throng.

Male Stripper (the Song) heralded Male Stripper (the Artiste).... interesting accoutrements hanging from his bod but, my God, love handles that even I don't have - and wouldn't wish to have, mes cheres! Our stripping friend was somewhat reticent about doing his biz until a certain James from the legal profession (we faggots are truly EVERYWHERE) began to tarry by the dancefloor and help our unhappy entertainer.

Well there were shrieks of horror and joy as the poor bloke had his face mask and briefs whipped off. Then the real tease began. I heard moans of horror from T & T who were squashed beside me on the stairs. I turned back to the floor in time to see Mark, a wellknown face on the Dublin pub scene and himself a former stripper, stride toward the centre of entertainment.

At this stage the crowd resembled an amphitheatre full of Romans feeding Christians to the lions as Mark and our original stripper became engaged on the dancefloor. There were leering faces everywhere. People began to whoop and clap as Mark dragged the stripper back onto the floor while simultaneously dropping his own clothes.

The bould James was close at hand doing his stage managing routine.

Before long it was all over and I came away from the place with mixed feelings. For service and ambience Minsky's is well worth a visit, but we'll forget about the stripper... unless you think otherwise - it which case, my delicate darlings, you know how to contact me. I remain yours in search of sleaze,


This article appears in Issue 8

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