Fiesta of the flesh

1. Marbella

2. From Torremolinos to Churriana

3. Ben the Baker

4. After the Fashion Show

5. The Bronx

6. You are never too old to Learn

7. Peter from Poona

8. Rule Britannia

9. Sports and pastimes

10. The Constant Nymph

11. Ben rises to the Occasion




The Bronx

'Morality is simply the attitude we adopt towards people Whom we personally dislike.'

I never could understand why Torremolinos became the gay center of the Costa del Sol. Sitting with Herman at a supposedly Italian ice cream parlor at one of the central terraces, we were surrounded by ugly, cheap people in an overcrowded, garish town, which lacked any trace of class. A few gay spots had begun to open up in staid marbella, and there was a transvestite bar in Puerto Banus, which was flourishing, but it was sordid Torremolinos, which has become the magnet for Herman and his kind.

Shortly after midnight, the two of us made our way to The Bronx. There were a couple of macho boys on the gate, but Herman talked us inside without out having to pay. All the waiters knew Herman; he was a gentleman who tipped well.

Downstairs, the music was deafening. Conversation was impossible, but clearly, the clientele of The Bronx did not drop in for a quiet chat. They were cruising, flirting, dancing, drinking and getting stoned. Taken drugs was forbidden by the management, but it was widespread and I saw plenty of kids who were drunk, plenty who were stoned, and even more who were 'stunk - both stoned and drunk!

We sat at a table and Herman brought me an orange juice. For a while, we watched the crowd of gay men. Some greeted each other with a warm embrace; others were strutting by with their noses in the air. There were the occasional couples that shook hands, most hugged and kissed or indulged in a friendly pinch of the buttocks. Herman was peering into the mass of moving bodies, obviously looking for somebody.
'There's this divine kid,' he screamed to me over the earsplitting racket. 'I had him when Momir was away for a few days, and next week he has to go into the army so I must find him tonight. He was superb and he has been looking out for me, but with all the preparations for
after the fashion show, I haven't had a chance to get hold of him.'

I realized now why Herman had been so insistent that I come along. He had no car, and provided he found his boy, my roomy BMW would come in useful. I did not resent this; it would give me an opportunity to repay some of his hospitality. After all, what are friends for?

Despite the air conditioning, the heat was intense and I was happy enough to sit back and watch Herman, as he sauntered around the floor. He towered above most of the rather feminine boys who tried to flirt with him. Suddenly, he darted through the throng and clutched, in a rapturous embrace, a young man.

The boy was definitely good looking. He had a delicate appearance, with brown eyes, big as saucers. He was dressed all in white with baggy pants and an open Indian style shirt, which revealed his suntanned, hairless chest. When I saw his angelic face and long, flowing, black hair, I was sorely tempted to take upon myself the pleasurable task of converting the young homosexual, even if only for one night.

For a while, the two men danced growing old together, folded in each other's arms, hardly moving but swaying amorously to the beat of the music. Later, I danced with the boy for a bit. Although we were not hugging each other like the men, I brushed against his body which felt good, slender yet firm, and with quite an acceptable hard-on. I became aware that he was also stoned out of his mind, his pupils dilated, his speech slurred. I warned Herman, who drank little and did not use any dope at all, that I thought that his lover was on some sort of trip, probably LSD.

Herman seized the kid and marched him over to the bar. He was not too good at walking or even standing upright, and Herman forced some orange juice down his throat. The boy demanded a whisky, but Herman was adamant.

'No more alcohol,' he ordered. 'What have you been taking?'
'Nada, 'the kid mumbled.
'Nada! What do you mean, nothing?' Herman howled in fury, 'Un poco morphine or snow?'
The boy just started at Herman, who now in a thoroughly bad temper, told him that we should all leave and that he was to come back with us to Herman's house in my car.
Suddenly, the music stopped in the middle of a number, and all the lights were switched on.
Confusion broke out and I turned to Herman.
'What the hell is going on?' I wanted to know.

Before he could answer, the shout went up from the part of the crowd nearest the door, 'Police, police, it's a raid.'
'Oh, my God,' cried Herman, 'that's all I need. What the hell do these bloody Spaniards want from us?'

'Shut up, you idiot,' hissed some of his friends who were huddled by the bar. 'Don't you know when to keep your big mouth closed?'
A line of grim-faced, uniformed Guardia Civil were filing down the staircase, guns at the ready.

12. The Magician

13. Say it with Diamonds

14. The simple life

15. Forced to Fast

16. The Persian Boy

17. Penthouse Pet

18. The road to Morocco

19. Have you anything to Declare?

20. Men of War

21. Fiesta in Ojen

22. Highway Robbery