Bains Douches - Paris - 1983

le Bains Douches Toujours Seule 1983

A poem from a journal 1983. Ah, Paris.

In 1983 I worked as the physionomiste at the door of Les Bains Douches off the Boulevard Sebastapol in Paris. Extraordinary my being offered the job, but the owners recognized my value to hold the fort a la porte. Many of my New York friends to this day remark that I had been the doorman at Studio 54.

"Only for a month." I had been hired in 1980 by Mark Fleischman, the mythic disco's second owner, who replaced Steve Rubell and Ian Schrager, who were serving a prison sentence for civil disobediance. I lasted a month and moved onto the notorious, but historic after-hours club the Jefferson Theater on East 14th Street run by the lord of the night Arthur Weinstein.

Another famed establisment of which I was equally as proud of as the Milk Bar and Balajo in Paris/ I was a good life. As the doorman of the Bains I was the most powerful American in Paris after dark. It was quite a responsibilty and I enjoyed all of it. Viva La France.

February 23 1983 - Paris - Journal

Another night of hard sex with Mary Cheape, an Irish waitress at the Studio, the Mexican restaurant of Rue de Temple. Having the night off from my new doorman job at the Bains-Douches, I had gone to the restaurant at midnight. I waited for her to finish her shift, getting a few drinks from Tony Bowers, a Lower Alabama guitarist. Mary had a glass of wine, then we walked over to the rousette's apartment on Rue du Vielle Temple.

"My clothes smell of food I hate it. I hate working in restaurants."

"All I smell is Paris." Traffic this late at night was non-existant in the Marais. A single Peugot taxi. Its sound a diesel engine. 505. I draw her hair from the nape of her neck. A sniff of her flesh. Burritos.

"I smell you."

"You've been drinking."

"Not that much." My cock is already erect.

Inside her apartment she strips to skin, unembarrassed by the soiled underwear on the floor.

"I always feel so dirty."

I lean over to cuff her breast and sniff her skin. She smells of glow and food and desire. The only light from the street lamps below. In these shadows she's attractive, but that impression shifts with every movement closer to me. Long red hair creates a veil across her face with green eyes emerald headlights. Mary an Hibernian chameleon shape-shifting seductive Banshee. I've always liked women, who never look the same. Her fingers undo my zipper and her hands pull down my jeans. She palms my penis and seizes it strongly, as if to test its hardness. I kick off the Levis and pull off my shirt. I am not wearing underwer. We are naked and we fuck each other senseless on her bed.

She takes me into her flesh our pelvis bones crash together in lust.

Pushing our bodies to the limit. She orgasms twice and I finally feel the urge to come.

"Don't come in me. I don't't use birth control, but I don't like the feel of condoms. I like to feel of bare cock in me."

I thrust hard and withdraw unable to restrain the urge to finish. My sperm splatters in ropes over her belly and melts like pearls on her belly. Her long red pubic hair wet with her own juices. I don't mind coitus interruptus with her. Coming on her breasts her ass her face. She likes it too. A wicked Irish girl.

Lying atop I get hard after a few minutes and fuck her again. Afterwards I fucked her a third time. She wanted more, but my foreskin had been worn paper-thin and my pelvis bone was bruised black and blue from the ramming her vagina. She seemed no worse for the wear.

Mary draws me close to her and turns on her side. Her lungs panting for air. I feel very small of her back. Her her ass grinds into my pelvis . There's no mistaking what she wants. Until I met her, I hadn't had any sex since leaving Hamburg and I think of the time before with Stephanie. Thinking later then that was the last sex I'll ever have. I was wrong and I entered Mary for a last time.

Funny many of my friends have succumbed to sexual hibernation during the last months; Julie safe a virgin again, Philippe and Rafael are too stoned on heroin to fuck. So many others in this nightlife high on heroin in Paris. I had no one and no one had me. Then last week Marie France, the blonde sex goddess singer, took me home. She's a beautiful Marilyn Monroe transsexual. She hide her penis skillfully and we had sex three times in the night. I hope to get her another time, but she never looks my way at the Privilege under Le Palais disco.

Slow times. Then I met Mary. My libido intact and thighs open to accept me. Tomorrow I'll go to Notre Dame Cathedral and light a few candles to Black Michael over the organ. He's not Satan, but he is sexy. Then it's praying to Holy Mary, the blesssed virgin to help my cock find a home. "

August 23, 1983 - Paris - Journal

Raoul from New York is Paris' leading baby bum for the last 6 months. Baby bum is my term for all the young transients hanging at the Pere Tranquille from this city, France, Europe and everywhere around the world, who come to the City of Light without any plan other than cast their fate to the wind. With everything considered I like the Dear Boy, who hasn't worked a single day since arriving in Paris at the request of no one.

I let him sleep over here on Rue des Deux Ponts on Ile St. Louis. Bridget is away on a fashion shoot for Vogue or Elle, maybe the cover. Here on the top floor duplex garret, just me, Raoul and Angus, her dear scotty. Raul was worried about sleeping in the rough, having heard death threats from the clochards under the bridges. He speaks perfect French, but they can tell he's an Amerlot or American. Sometimes he sleeps in the parks hiding under cardboard boxes. New Yorkers think Paris isn't tough, but the thugs carry knives and they use them. Raoul carries a knife too. I keep on telling him not to, but he's from New York, Few of the other baby bums survive this way. This is not his City. It's not my city, but as a doorman of the Bains-Douches I ruled a small part of the city from 9:00 to 4:00 in the morning.

Heading back to New York to live with his Marx's parents and NYU. Raul is a good mooch. I shall miss his light as a feather touch. Free entry at Les Bains-Douches, free drinks from the German bartender, and he never asks for a dime. None of the other baby bums come close.