Random Rubber Bands

Sunday, January 07, 2007

L'Impact

My first foray into the seedy sexclub scene was at L'Impact last night. After a leisurely dinner with my boyfriend, his mother, and a long-time Macedonian friend of his, we walked my boyfriend's mother down the street back to her home and the remaining three of us went out for a some drinks in the neighborhood. My boyfriend didn't intend to stay out long with us, and he encouraged me to stay with his friend so he could show me a bit of Paris nightlife. Before he left us to fend for ourselves though, we stopped at Open Cafe, where they apparently don't serve either Jagermeister, Tanqueray nor Hefeweizen. Of course, these things are German, British, and German respectively, so I am more prone to understanding why these wouldn't be served. Instead, I settled on some random gin and tonic, although I knew that the consequences might be dire, mostly for reasons of the impending hang-over.

My boyfriend knows that I have a mild crush on his Macedonian friend. We've known each other a long time, even if at the level of acquaintances mostly. We've hosted him at our home in Reno, showed him around Tahoe, and we've met up with him every time we've come to Paris. Each time, I do a relatively private "awwww" over him, and my boyfriend knows it. He was very aware of this when we decided to go out for drinks with him this night, because he knew that the purpose for this Macedonian was to find some random later to hook up with.

As we left, he said, "If you to do something together, I won't mind. Whatever you do, just be safe."

Well, I really had no intention of being inappropriate with my boyfriend's friend. Especially if he knew who I was doing. That leads to awkward conversations and engagements later, and is simply crossing a line that I have drawn in the sand for myself. Perhaps if he didn't know about it, it wouldn't be so awkward. So I intended to be proprietous with this guy, cute and adorable as he might be.

So we chatted and we watched the bustle of gay Parisian nightlife from a little table on the sidewalk outside of Open Cafe. It was well after 12:30 a.m. and the streets were filled with all sorts of people, but in particular, lots and lots of French clones. Caucasian shaved headed men who wear jeans and military jackets. The look is hard to pull off, and only a few men look hot like that, but hey, fashion is fashion. And we are in Paris...

Mr. Macedonian and I bided adieu to my boyfriend, and then we started walking towards a bar he hand in mind. As we walked, we talked about him. I had a bit of gin in me, so I was more comfortable asking intimate questions. He had a bit of beer in him, and wine from dinner, so he was apparently more comfortable answering those questions. He's in a long term relationship, but he is well known by my boyfriend that he likes to play the field. Tonight's hunt was further evidence supporting this. I asked him about it. He shared with me his perspective, which was mostly generalized towards not wishing to limit his options.

We made it to the bar, called Cox, but I was less than impressed. It was filled with the aforementioned clones, and I was highly aware that I looked nothing like the rest of the clientele. That in itself didn't matter too much, but I found no eye candy either, and perhaps wanted to find a bar were there were at least some people more near my age.

Mr. Macedonian thought about another bar that I think was called Les Marrioniers, but as we turned the corner and found all the blue lights blanketing the wall and overhang, we also found a line of people that went around the corner as they waited for entry. We looked at each other. "I don't want to wait for that.

So we walked to another bar just down the block that was a bit more mixed, but I don't remember the name.

While there and grabbing a beer for each of us, we talked a bit about my boyfriend since they've known each other for over the past ten years. He was mildly aware of my boyfriend's phobias and uncertainty about sex and relationships, and I was careful not to enlighten him any more than he already was. Instead, I was looking for his perspective about who he thought my boyfriend was and perhaps even some evidence about why he is who he is today. Mr. Macedonian was uncertain, stating that my boyfriend has always been such since he has known him, and in the past exhibited even more reserved behaviors. He has been able to get my boyfriend out at times, trying to expose him to gay life of Paris over the years, but my boyfriend has always been very uncomfortable with these types of experiences. He was also very surprised that my boyfriend had found me and held on, since my boyfriend had been so frightened of relationships in the past.

Women then started showing up, and we took that as a cue to exit. We tried Les Marrioniers again, but the line was still abysmal. So we started wandering. He talked about C.U.D, asking what it meant. I didn't realize that it was an acronym, and explained what cud means in english. That was rather a lovely experience. After that conversation, it blessedly shifted to other bars and scenes that are available in Paris. He began talking about L'Impact and Le Deep, both sex clubs. I said I had never gone to anything like that before. "Are you interested?" he asked. I hemmed and hawed for a couple of seconds, but then thought, what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Sure! Let's go." Let's go to L'Impact. The action is better because you have to take off your clothes. The scene is pretty relaxed and the guys aren't so pretensious. Fine, I said, heart racing. What the hell. What the hell am I getting myself into?

We walked past a police station and stopped.

"Is this where we're going?" I asked.

"No, but I thought I would show you this bar. This is C.U.D."

"Oh, it's an acronym. I have no idea what that means."

We walked on, and made it to this little nondescript door. You had to ring a bell to gain entrance. We rang. Nothing happened. We rang again. Nothing.

"I guess we're not what they're looking for," I joked while looking up at the closed-circuit camera in the doorway.

Immediately we heard muffled talking behind the door and we were admitted.

"Est-que vous avez ete ici avant?" asked the attendant.

"Oui, pour moi, mais pas pour mon ami ici," said Mr. Macedonianan.

"Non." I said, the French word that I am most comfortable with.

So, in stilted english, the attendant asked, "Where are you from? London?"

"The United States."

"Ah, well, you know you have to take off your clothes here."

"Yes, that's fine."

"D'accord," he gave us number bracelets and a bag. We went though the plastic drapes and into the bar. There was a changing area obviously set around various kegs, in full view of the bar, where there were a gaggle of naked men sitting, talking, and drinking.

Again, in for a penny, in for a pound. As we were getting undressed, I joked with MrMacedonianan about seeing a lot more of him than I was expecting. Then, naked save our shoes and socks, we walked up to the bar to order another round of beers. This bar had an even more limited selection of beer, and the one that I eventually got was rather not to my liking. No problem. I had had way too much anyway.

We ambled downstairs into thcruisingng area, where the ceilings and walls were made of old brick with arched brick doorways in each of the subroom entrances. The whole place had a wine cellar feel to it, other than the fact that the place was chock-full of naked men engaged in a myriad of different acts of debauchery. Ah, now I was nervous as hell. It was interesting, but holy shit, I had imagined these places, but I had never actually seen one in person. The groans and sounds of sex were all around us, and MrMacedonianan and I walked through it so that we could get our bearings. We were the only two holding beers.

After the walkthrough, and the underground arena was pretty extensive, we decided to go back up to finish our beer. Well, he did. I put mine back on the counter. I was done before I started. When he finished we went downstairs again, and split company.

I walked towards the back, and while the whole place was dim, it was still well lit enough so that I could see what was going on and who was around me. I expected not to be too interesting in others, because I was the only asian in the place... and I ran into a very dark black man. Of course, I have round eyes, so sometimes it's hard for others to tell what I am, other than they often assume I'm not white... and they're only half right. Other than that though, there were nothing but caucasians everywhere. Hmm, I thought, one can only see what might happen. I passed a bed where two men were getting fucked, each head to head while the men behind them where inhaling poppers. Immediately I thought that there would be none of that for me, because that's a great way to lose my inhibition enough to get myself into real trouble. I moved on.

I walked under a stairway where there were several men having all sorts of oral sex, and as I walked by, somebody grabbed my nipples. I turned, looked, saw that he wasn't my type, smiled, and moved on. Another stroked my backside, and I again looked, and moved on. I rounded a corner and entered a room with several gloryholes. The room had a very dim red glow to it, and it was hard to see who was around me at first until my eyes adjusted. I saw more configurations of men, one who was bracing the wall as another fucked him, and I had more encounters with men who seemed mildly interested.

My confidence grew, I wasn't so odd here after all. Or perhaps I was, but it seemed to be more of an asset.

As I rounded another corner, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was one of the men who had indicated interest in the red room. Having more confidence, but more than my fair share of alcohol in me, I was half erect, but could not get much more than that. He bent down and began to suck my cock. I leaned back against a wall and let him. As I enjoyed the feeling of having myself serviced, another man came up close to watch us. He put his hand out and brushed it against the side of my abdomen. He was really quite nice looking, and I responded in kind. He came closer. I reached for his cock while I was still being sucked by the other man. He got even closer, and I could smell the faint scent of his cologne, which indicates just how close he got because of the smell of sweat and sex that permeated the whole underground.

He began to kiss me. I hesitated at first knowing that I tasted like alcohol. He seemed to hesitate too, but it seemed to be more from uncertainty about how I would respond. Soon however, we both realized that it was quite pleasant, and we engaged more fervently. The guy sucking on me must have decided that I was otherwise more engaged and left the two of us to continue.

And continue we did, we ended up spending the next four hours together, although I was at less than peak performance because of the alcohol in my system. I had a very difficult time keeping an erection even though my newfound friend really wanted me to fuck him. I couldn't respond to that because of the half erection, but we found other things to do instead. He teased me because of my strong American accent, and I found his English to be rather good, even though in a very, very thick French accent. At some point we ended up exchanging names.

MMacedonianan friend ran into me a couple of times, seemed interested, then when he realized just who I was, smiled and turned away. Our truce with each other still stood. Late into the night, he stopped me as I was walking by and said that he would be leaving, but he was worried about me making it home safely. I told him not to worry, I'd find my way home alright. "I don't want to be responsible for losing you," he said. "You won't," I responded. "I'll be fine."

Several times, my newfound friend and I were interrupted by other men who wanted to get in on the action with us, but mostly we ended up spending the evening together. He kept telling me I was "fantastic" and I really appreciated his attention because he knew what he was doing too. I had some trouble swallowing his cock because uncut men are rare in the states, and while I had seen foreskin before, I had never actually put one in my mouth before. It is certainly different sucking on an uncut cock than it is sucking on a cut one, and all around me were uncut cocks. I think I was the only one there that night who was circumcised. I managed though, and was apparently pretty successful.

Afterwards, coming up from downstairs to get some fresh air for the last time, he said, "I would like, very much, to see you again sometime."

"Well, I'm only in Paris for two more days." I didn't tell him that I would be back for two days in a week, after my trip to Rome. I wasn't quite so sure about giving my personal information away to someone I just met, even if my tongue was halfway up his ass at one point. He decided to give me his email address, and I thought, what the hell, why not respond in kind.

We both got dressed and exited together, me not quite sure of my bearings. He walked me to an intersection, pointed the direction, and told me how to get to Rue Rambuteau. He kissed me on the street, thanked me for a wonderful evening and we both headed out on our way.

It was a rather nice evening. I made it home, showered to get the smell of smoke and sex off of me, and then headed to bed. It was six in the morning. That was going to be a hell of a thing to explain to my boyfriend when he woke up.