The day-after-Christmas crowd, unruly, angry, post-holiday-hell Leathermen here to forget the last two days. Home for the holidays rarely makes merry and by the sheer number of predominantly gay men, arrayed in various degrees of black leather, tight jeans, and biker boots, this holiday was especially distressing. A few couples were male with female or female with female; but they were fewer. The couples with female tops and male bottoms fewer still. A mixed club, the dancing cages equally represent naked men and naked women dancers. The sheer roughness of the place makes me remember just exactly why I miss Paris. Sean Paul sees me and lifts his chin in a barely perceptible greeting before turning to resume his voyeurism of a scene in progress in the corner behind him. A woman topping a man. Tall and elegant, I recognize her from a well-known Channel ad campaign. Her dark hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, exaggerating her naturally high cheekbones and cupid lips. I take the extra moment to admire her lithe body covered in a barely there bright red PVC halter, with cutouts to display her surgically enhanced nipples, and matching hot-pants.
