The Beautiful Kind

In my last post I suggested that if you want to have sex in public and get your freak on, you should check out The Colony, an adult movie theater on the east side. But I didn’t really mean it. That is, unless you’re just super curious in an anthropological sense instead of wanting a hot, sexy experience.

First of all, you should never go there as a single man - this automatically brands you as a loser. Then again, it’s virtually impossible to convince any sane woman to go the place (of course I’ve been several times.) The place looks like a dismal, low hanging windowless warehouse, and sits on a gravel parking lot patrolled by a security guard. You can get a good idea of who is inside by the type of cars and trucks parked on the lot.

You enter the front door and there’s a crusty counter with a glass case of old pornography and sex toys for sale. The place stinks like sweat, cigarettes, and desperation. A crusty old man, the owner, is there to take your admission. The price is way too high - like $30 a couple. Single men are allowed in, but they are supposedly not allowed in areas designated for couples only. Of course single women never think to go to a place like this, unless they’re turning tricks. On “party” nights, the price soars to $60 a couple. The difference between a party night and a regular night is that usually there are more people, and they bring a gynecologist table out to the dance floor.

Behind the counter is a theater where everyone is allowed. It consists of two screens separated by a piece of plywood, one screen showing gay porn, the other screen showing straight, so men can stand in the back and play pocket pool and act like they’re watching the straight porn, but are really ogling the gay porn.

There’s a bar where everyone is allowed as well, and you have to get to it by going through this creepy narrow dark hallway barely lit by black lights. The bar is incredibly 70’s with wood paneling, fake plants, an old TV on a stand playing porn, a jukebox, 70’s wall art similar to the kind once found at the Parkmoor, and, inexplicably, a wall of 10 gallon tanks housing horny guppies. As you sit in your booth and sip your drink and fend off perverts, you can watch the male guppies rape the fleeing female guppies.

There’s a dance floor room drenched in red lights that is supposed to be for couples only, but single men often find their way in there. Cheap tables and chairs surround the dance floor, which is slightly elevated and has shackles permanently fixed in the posts.

Finally, there’s a Couples Only theater. Couples get a key for that room. Single men often slip in after a couple, and they gather in the room until enough accumulate to necessitate a bouncer coming in like an exterminator and yelling, “Single men out!” which is the equivalent of turning on the kitchen light and roaches scurrying.

The room is extremely dim, and filled with old couches - not the kind of couches you would get at a thrift store, but the kind of couches you would salvage from condemned buildings.

Very.

Dirty.

Couches.

There’s a filthy bare mattress at the front of the room, and junked furniture piled in the corners, though it’s hard to make out what they are - stoves? tables? The screen in this room is weak and pale, and the sound is terrible, and the porn is very old, so it’s like ghost porn. It’s really not the main point of the room - it’s just there to serve as a prop. The real reason of the room is for couples to get it on. I shudder to imagine what the room would look like in broad daylight.

There. I’ve set the scene. Next I’ll describe some of the things that have gone on there. Granny gang bang anyone?