Aaron's Summer of '77 Ch. 11

October came and went in fast-motion after Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad and Adam's birthday. The two major November assignments taking us up to the beginning of December and then to the end of the first term semester were from Camilla Mezaros in Interior Design One and from Alan Farside in Building Construction. They were intimidating with respect to the amount of work required in order to complete them and I was beginning to totally freak out ...

Alan's assignment was interesting. We were to take what Alan had taught us in class regarding what many Architects and Designers followed when trying to develop perfect proportions for their creative work and apply what was called 'The Fibonacci Sequence' to a scale model built from balsawood. The 'Fibonacci Sequence' was essentially a series of numbers in which each number was the sum of the two preceding numbers. For example, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13 and so on. Scale and proportion are important elements in Architecture and Design, and Alan was absolutely determined we were going to understand these principles as we advanced in the Program. I had an idea about building a scale model based on the ratio of 3, 5 and 8 and had discussed my ideas with him during crit' times. Having heard his suggestions and listening carefully to what he was hoping to see in the final completed model, I was now on my own to actually build the damned thing to a scale of 1 inch equal to 1 foot.

Camilla's assignment was equally as demanding. It involved not only construction of a scale model constructed with Bainbridge board (... seems like this was Camilla's favorite choice of material ... easier to knock off a table with her wooden rod, I guess ...). But, we had to do what was described as a programming study and design concept narrative for what we were to hand in for 50% of our grade for that first semester. The assignment was to design and build a scale model of a student home workspace that we could theoretically work in as Interior Designers. Suddenly, now we were going from abstract theory into what most of us understood real Interior Design was all about ... namely design of real space for real people. The programming study mandated that we measure every piece of material we would use in building scale models, along with drafting paper and furniture, such as our drafting boards and stools and whatever else we thought we'd need in order to create an efficient and workable environment in which to do our work. All the abstract theory and concepts we had been taught up to that point in her class with respect to colour, line, shape, texture, space, form, harmony and balance were to be incorporated to signify our understanding of the course. This was a daunting assignment.

"Holy fuckin' shit!", to quote what Adam would say!

"Hi Adam ..."

"Hi there, honey! I'll be hoppin' the bus up on Friday and should be up there around nine. How are ya' makin' out with those models you're workin' on?"

"Oh God, Adam! If I have to measure one more piece of Bainbridge board, or sheet of drafting paper, or pen, pencil, marker or piece of balsawood, I'm going to kill myself! She's got us measuring our drafting boards and stools too! Next thing you know, she be asking us to measure our butts to make sure they fit in the stools in the model! "

"Well, I can sure help ya' with that one, baby! I already know it's a perfect fit for my big cock!" Adam says, while laughing on the other end of the phone line. "Now seriously, honey ... is there anything 'I' can help ya' with when I'm there, besides measurin' you cute, tight, little ass?"

"Well Adam ... you 'do' know how to type, don't you?" I respond.

"Sure do, Aaron. I was pretty good with business and commerce classes back in high school. Why? Do ya' need me to type somethin' up for ya' there, honey?"

"Oh God yes, Sasq'! I have to take all of the measurements and design concept information and put it all into a programming booklet, along with the scale model when I submit it. Would you maybe help me with that, Adam? I'd be so grateful if you would!"

"So no partying this weekend then ... we get straight down to work and no foolin' around?" he asks me.

"Well maybe some party-time when you measure my ass and after we turn the lights out! Does that work for you, Sasquatch?"

"Mmmmm ... sure does, baby! Oh yeah! And those black and white pictures I took for ya' for that booklet for Lynda 'Birdbrain'... they turned out pretty well here. Maybe I can help ya' trim them up and put them into that assignment you have to hand in for her History of Architecture course for the end of November. You know, Aaron, you're gonna' have to put me on the payroll there, baby if this keeps up for next semester!"

"Stop calling her 'birdbrain'! I almost called her that myself last week because of you! And as for payment, just put it on my account and take it out in trade, Sasq'!" I laugh.

"I like those terms and I'll take the job!" he says, and then gives me one of his dirty, obscene and suggestive laughs.

"Oh yes, Adam, while I'm thinking of it! I got some groceries and some wine from the LCBO and I'll have dinner ready for you when you get up here. My cooking is getting a little better now. At least the last time, I didn't have my upstairs neighbor here coming down and banging on my door, because they thought I'd started a fire on my stove! Jeez ... that was embarrassing!"

"Hah, hah, hah! Just don't give me food poisoning with whatever ya' decide to make there and we'll be fine, baby! Hah, hah, hah!"

"Maybe I'd just make us some bacon and eggs then," I say.

"Over easy then, honey. And no ... I wasn't referring to you there either! Hah, hah, hah!"

A few hours later and it's one clock in the morning. Alan Abelson and his friends are dancing frenetically to the throb of their own personal highs at Sacs in Hull on the Quebec side of the river. The flashing strobe lights and pulsing beat of "Relight My Fire' by 'Dan Hartman' cranks up, just as "Love Machine' by 'The Miracles' ends. The dance floor is packed with beautiful and not so much so sweaty bodies in constant movement. Machines are blowing liquid nitrogen smoke into the air and it's suddenly Saturday Night Fever every night of the week for Alan and his ever-present amber bottle of poppers. "Here, Jeremey ... sniff some Rush and let's keep dancing!" he yells to make himself heard above the loud, pounding, vibrating speakers surrounding the stainless steel dance floor. The bottle of isobutyl nitrate gets passed around to four or five others and then the light-headedness and heart-racing, body quivering dance moves take over and everything else but the music and the beat is forgotten. Right beside Adam and Jeremey is this outrageous, three hundred pound queen in a pair of glittery disco, high platform running shoes with 7-Up soft drink logos on them. He is wearing a matching green silk kimono jacket, huge cats-eye dark lense sunglasses that look like something Grace Jones would wear and a pair of denim cut-off shorts that are cut so high up to his crotch, that unfortunately, nothing is left to the imagination. In each of his hands, there are oriental fans that he hits other dancers with if he thinks they are cute and when he does, he screams and then yells he wants to fuck them right then and there on the dance floor. "You go gurl 'Mother'!" shouts Alan to his Creative Display Director and ex-Boss from The Hudson's Bay Company store on Rideau Street.

The interior of Sacs on Rue Principale is like something out of New York City, or possibly the hot gay bar scene in either Toronto or Montreal. It's the closest thing to Studio 54 that one would ever expect to find in staid, boring and ultra-conservative Federal Government Ottawa. Two gorgeous, tall, 'leather from head to toe' clad doormen command the front checkout and control the black velvet rope that they only open for the best-looking and coolest dressed people to get into the club. One is white and the other black ... both are the sexiest-looking males you could possibly have wet dreams about.

Once inside, there are three bars surrounding the huge dance floor. The entire club is painted with flat, matte black paint, and the floors are shiny black linoleum, so the sense of space seems to disappear and go on forever inside. Recessed pot lights are set on low dimmers in the ceiling and they look like stars twinkling in a black midnight sky. The tops of the bars are stainless steel like the dance floor. Some people sit at the bars on black leather and chrome stools, while most of the horny gay guys cruising stand at high tables on a raised platform to overlook the dance floor and pose like Greek statues, hoping someone will come up to them and beg them to dance or go have sex with them in the washroom stalls.

The strobe lights are blinding. Commanding the entire bar is a DJ booth that looks like a space ship about to go into orbit.

The local news celebrity, 'Max' is sitting at the first bar to the right when one enters the space. He has two very young, bitchy-looking, skinny French Canadian guys sitting on each side of him ... bilingual bookends no doubt. His reputation for seducing twinks is legendary. A couple of years earlier, he was arrested and charged for driving the wrong way on the 401 from Brockville back to Ottawa after one of his 'on-the-scenes' broadcasts. He now has a personal driver to take him over to Sacs when his 11:00 PM nightly newscasts finish on the local TV channel. The driver is down the bar from him wearing a chauffeur's cap and black suit, looking very straight, extremely uncomfortable and seated all by himself, nursing a Diet Coke.

"Hey, Max!" says Adam, as he and Jeremey and 'Mother' pass by him on their way back to the raised platform where the rest of Adam's friends pose like constipated swans in tight leather pants and silk shirts.

"How are you this evening Adam? Did you get that stuff I asked you to get for me?" Max says to him.

"Oh yeah! Here it is, Max. It came in a diplomatic pouch from Turkey the other day wrapped in some drapery fabric for my Mother. No ... not 'you' 'Mother'... my 'real' Mother!" as he turns and laughs at his ex-Boss from The Bay.

A bag of cocaine is surreptitiously handed off to Max and then Adam and his tribe move on.

"I'll be in tomorrow to help you work on my assignments from school," he says to 'Mother.'

"I'll need more of what you just gave to Max then, Adam."

"No problem. I have more back at my place and will get it for you tomorrow. Oh! Let's head back to the dance floor! I absolutely 'love' this song!"

"All that pressure got you down

Has your head spinning all around

Feel the rhythm, check the rhyme

Come on along and have a real good time

Le Freak ... C'est Chic ..."

"And when do we get to meet this supposedly sexy classmate of yours you've been bragging to us you're planning on fucking and making your lover? And just exactly when are you going to bring the little piece of twink candy over to Sacs to receive my approval and blessing?" asks 'Mother'.

"When I figure out a way to get rid of his damned, fucking Brockville boyfriend!" says Adam, with a grimace and a scowl.

"We make a good team, baby. I'll take these notes and measurements you scribbled back home with me and type them up for ya' no problem!" says Adam, as he looks over all the pages spread out on my grandmother's desk beside the fireplace. "And tomorrow, we'll clean up some of the mess around here and spread out those pictures I brought and start to lay them out for that other assignment you have to have ready in a week's time for the end of November for Lynda 'bird lady' there ..." says Adam.

"I wish you'd stop calling her 'bird lady', Adam!""

"Hah. Hah! OK, honey. No problem! By the way, how's that Adam guy doing with his assignments, Aaron? Is he gonna' stick with the Program after this semester? Or do ya' know yet?"

"I don't really know, Adam. He seems to get all his stuff in on-time and for the most part, he's getting fairly consistent marks from the Profs. I don't know how he's managing it though, because he tells me he is still going in to The Bay after hours to help with that 'Mother' there and hasn't missed any classes either. He always seems wired up somehow though. And I'm not talking about the same 'wire' that Camilla seems to get off on talking about on me either. Sometimes I wonder if he gets any sleep at all."

"Hmmm ... has he asked you to go out partying with him and his friends lately, honey?"

"Well Sasq', yes ... almost every night! He's beginning to really piss me off, to be honest about it. I suppose I'll just have to say yes one of these times, just to get him off my back about it."

"Tell ya' what, baby ... how's about you and me head on over to Sacs together tomorrow night after we finish with your assignment stuff and check the place out. A friend of mine from Merrickville, Ronnie White is one of the doormen there. We went to high school together, cookie. Him and me ... well, we haven't talked in a long while. He used to work up at Black and Decker and then decided to get out the hell outta' Brockville for a year to maybe find out what gay life was all about. He got the job at Sacs and has been up here now for about six or seven months or so. I kinda' wanna' talk to him to find out how he's doin'. Whatdaya' say? Is it a date then, cookie?"

"Well ... if you really want to go, then sure let's do it then, Sasq'." I say to him. "But not until I get to suck on that big, hairy fuck rod of yours and maybe show ya' my brand new underwear before we head out tomorrow!"

"Hmmm ... I'm real intrigued now, baby. Just whatcha' hidin' down there from me babe?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, mister commando!"

"Heh, Heh. I love you, cookie."

"I love you too, Sasq'."

"Now what did ya' manage to make for me for dinner and where's that wine you promised? I'm fuckin' hungry and hadta' skip dinner to make it to the bus stop on time to catch the bus up here. And it better not be bacon and eggs either!"

The dishes, glasses and cutlery are already spread out on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Five minutes later and orange and blue taper candles are lit and flickering. The cloth napkins I scammed from my Mom's linen closet are in place, as I head into the tiny kitchen and pull a McCain's frozen pizza out of the oven.

"Thought you said you were gonna' 'make' me somethin' for dinner, cookie babe," says Adam, as I put the cardboard plate down and start to carve up the pieces.

"Well ... I managed to turn the stove on and get the temperature right. So that's like cooking, '... izzzn't it ...?' Hah, hah, hah!"

"C'mere, baby. I wanna' measure your butt right now to make sure ya' haven't lost any more weight! Let me get my tool out and we'll see if my eight inch measuring tape can tell if you're healthy or not!"

"Never mind, Sasq'! You can have your 'cookie' for dessert later, if you behave yourself. Now kiss me and then eat what I've made for you!"

"Oh! Speakin' of food there, honey ... when you're home on Christmas break, am gonna' take ya' someplace special for your birthday. I have a nice surprise waitin' for ya' ... besides the one hiding in my suit pants which by the way, kinda' miss ya' these days, honey. They're real lonely all by themselves and told me they're gonna' go back 'into the closet' ... they keep sayin' to me they won't 'come out' again 'til you're back in town! Not to worry though ... they're pretty 'well-hung' in there!"

"Very funny, Adam ... very funny."

"Yeah! I kinda' thought so too!" he says, with a smug grin on his face as he bends over to kiss me.

"My suit jacket said to say hey to ya' as well baby. It misses you almost as much as I do, cookie!"

"It's just jealous of your shirt, Adam. It'll have to get used to the fact that I have more than just one love interest now that I sleep with! Hah, hah, hah, hah! I wear it every night, Sasquatch. And it still smells of you. You know ... I just don't know how I'd be able to make it through a whole night without it to help me sleep and dream of you."

It's late Saturday morning. Adam shakes me awake with a cup of coffee in his hand for me and says, "Babe, let's crank up the music here and start to get into these black and white pictures. Where's your X-Acto knives and that expensive piece of linoleum cutting board surface you got ripped off on from Wallack's?"

He heads over to my stereo and pulls out 'Diana Ross'. Suddenly, 'Love Hangover' starts to play and we make some room to start working on Lynda Naagy-Birdsong's History of Architecture presentation.

"If there's a cure for this

I don't want it

I don't want it

If there's a remedy

I'll run from it

From it..."

"These pictures are fantastic, Adam! I'm glad you insisted we do them up on glossy print paper. The black and white contrast in them is incredible! You should be a professional photographer, Sasq'!"

"Thanks, baby. You told me what you wanted and how to frame them in each composition, though. So you take credit here too. It's a group effort. But no one ever needs to know that, baby. I just like helpin' ya, honey!"

Diana Ross continues to sing in the background.

"I've got the sweetest hangover

I don't wanna get over

Sweetest hangover ..."

Three and a half hours and four cups of instant black coffee later and all the pictures have been cropped and cut precisely and laid out on twelve pages of expensive white matte finish linen paper ready for gluing and binding together. Between each page is a sheer white sheet of very thin translucent velum paper that is like organza, intended to separate each page. The whole booklet will look extremely elegant once it's all done and ready to be handed in.

"Adam, do you know what 'Letraset' is?" I say to him, as he carefully finishes up with gluing each photo down onto the linen pages the way we both decided they should be laid out.

"Uh, ummm ... no, honey, what's that?"

"Well, it's like a dry-transfer kind of typeface lettering that you rub onto paper or Bainbridge board with a burnishing tool. Do you think you might want to help me by trying to do that with the lettering and symbols having to go on each page?"

"Sounds like fun ... let me try it and see what you think, Aaron!"

"God, Adam! That looks amazing! I'm so glad you're here to help me. Are you still sure you want to go out later? I'm good, if you just want to stay home with me here and watch TV or something."

"Nope! We're goin' cookie! I wanna' see Ronnie and get caught up with him 'cause his Dad took sick and I wanna' get another look at that Alan friend of yours."

"I don't really think of him as a friend, Adam."

"OK, babe, whatever ... OK."

Later that evening and Adam says, "One really nice thing about this apartment, baby is that ya' never seem to run out of hot water for that big tub of yours." I'm gonna' put some bubble bath I brought up from Fullerton's in it now and whatdaya' say we hop in there together before headin' out to Sacs?"

"I'd like that, Adam. My back hurts from bending over to finish off all those pages for Lynda's booklet. It sure looks good though. Thanks again for all your help on it. If I get an 'A' on it, you can have a look ahead into Chapter Fifteen of the Gay Sex book and I'll do anything from Chapters One to Fifteen you want me to do on you? Deal?"

"Fuckin' fantastic deal there, honey! Heh, heh!" he says, and laughs that indecent, dirty laugh I've come to love about him, along with everything else ... not the least of which is that hairy man butt as he heads naked into my bathroom and bends over the tub to test the temperature of the water.

After poking our heads into the LE to say hi to John and Andre the waiters, we head upstairs to look inside The Library and then into the Lord Elgin Hotel lobby to catch a cab over to Hull and Sacs. It's just before midnight.