The Whores in the Band

I was smoking a Camel as I got my cock sucked while leaning against a brick wall at the Anvil, Yaz’s “Don’t Go” was blasting, it was that kind of place. In September 1982, the Anvil was a Meatpacking District gay hot spot, cruising and sex were rampant. The upstairs had a runway stage surrounded by a long bar, there was dancing on the floor and garish drag queens performing onstage. The bathroom had a trough for communal pissing, allowing for checking out dicks. Downstairs was the cavernous back room. There was an area with benches to sit and watch the porn films that played on screen. There were dim hallways and alcoves to have sex in. The crowd was a cross section of mostly leather and clone types. Tuesdays were my favorite; it was New Wave Night. That event drew a crowd of young guys from the East Village, those into the scene and dewy twinks visiting for the first time who were too afraid to come on other nights based on the club’s hardcore reputation. I fucked a lot of thin, pretty New York University boys in that era. 

My name is Don Castellano, I was born in Brooklyn and so I am direct. I owned a solid B-level cast agency housed in a Midtown office. My clients mostly got work on soap operas, in Off-Broadway theater and featured roles in New York-shot movies, A few became well known performers. I had an eye for talent, and for those who were better off suited using their good looks and charm turning tricks with men. I set up cute young guys who had no chance of making it in show business with pimps for $1000 bounty. It worked out well for all involved. I took on other similar projects. 

I was into the clone look back then and constantly bagged a lot of hot bottoms. Of course, I did. I was 6’ 2”, I worked out in the mornings, so I was in great shape at 34. I wore tight button-fly jeans with no underwear and plaid shirts. My brown hair was cut short, and I had a mustache. My voice was deep and masculine. Oh, and I was hung. My cut dick was exactly eight inches and was stunning, I had a fine pair of big hairy swaying balls. I was an irresistible total top and I knew it.

That Tuesday night, I had been upstairs sipping Jack Daniels on the rocks, smoking a Camel and taking it all in. My eyes zeroed in on a real beauty. He was 18 and was medium height. His lean frame was encased in skintight white jeans, in the right back pocket was a brass key ring attached to the belt loop which was code that he was a bottom. Those white jeans showcased his fantastic round ass and nice-sized crotch and a skintight green reptile print T-shirt which showed off his natural biceps and juicy pecs. His blond hair was feathery, his cute face was perfectly symmetrical, his lips were luscious, his blue eyes sparkled, and he had the most appealing smile. When not swilling down rum and Cokes, he was dancing up in storm in his green leather boots. Eventually he headed to the bathroom, it was time to make my move.

He was standing at the trough, pissing through his nice-sized dick. I stood next to him, unbuttoned my fly, yanked out my one-eyed monster and began pissing. I looked over at him, sure enough he was watching me piss with his wide eyes. I finished pissing and put my dick back in my jeans. I slowly walked out back into the bar and stage area and then walked downstairs. He was following me, no surprise after he saw what I was packing. I walked down a hallway past other guys cruising to an alcove. There he was in front of me. I put my hands on his shoulders and nudged him down to the ground on his knees. I unbuttoned my fly and took out my hard big cock and balls.

This boy knew his way around a dick. He opened his mouth real wide and began licking my cockhead, hitting that sweat spot under the head just right. He lapped up my oozing precum. His sweet tongue slathered all over my expansive shaft, he gobbled up my meaty full balls. I was so into watching that boyish face contorted around my joint deepthroating my eight inches. Oh yeah, this kid was a pro cocksucker who was getting me close. I raised him up and kissed him on the mouth, my stubble scratched against his smooth cheeks, I stuck my tongue in his mouth, his tongue eagerly met mine. While we made out I groped his ass, I slid my hand into the back of his jeans. He whimpered as I fingered his warm tight boy hole. I spun him around and firmly positioned him against the brick wall. My hands undid his belt and pulled his jeans and underwear down, there was his pale white ass gleaming in the dimness. I reached for the small tube of Vaseline in my jeans pocket, I greased up my throbbing cock and his quivering boy hole. He howled as I rammed my cock into his rosebud. Oh fuck! There’s no greater feeling then having my cock buried up inside a beautiful boy’s tight chute. I began fucking him. He sobbed with joy at having a real man’s cock splitting him open. We had a nice fuck rhythm going as I fucked him standing up against the brick wall. He fucking screamed when my fucking made him cum, his eruption of jism drenched the brick wall. I came inside him. I handed him some paper towels, he cleaned his ass and pulled up his underwear and jeans. I cleaned off my dick with a paper towel and did up my jeans.

“I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee” I said.

We were in the booth of a crowded nearby diner; it was packed with men who had just fucked in bars and clubs in the vicinity. Up close and in the bright light of the diner, Andrew was even more beautiful. We drank coffee, I lit up a Camel, he wanted one and I gave him one. He was flushed and beaming having just gotten his ass stretched open and pounded out by my great cock. He had exceptional cheekbones which made his slightly androgynous face striking. He had a pleasant boyish voice that was faintly masculine, he didn’t sound like a fag. I explained that I was a casting agent. He told me his story.

He was from a small town in Wisconsin. He was expelled from high school after getting caught giving blowjobs to football team members in the locker room. When he got home, his father took off his belt and gave him a beating for being a fag and getting thrown out of school. His father threw him out of the house. He stayed with a sympathetic aunt before taking a bus to Manhattan, where he could be what he was. He lived in an East Village tenement with two roommates on Avenue C. He worked in a St. Mark’s clothing store.   

Andrew was just the damaged gay boy I hunt for; oversexed, not too bright, poor and estranged from his family. Boys like him are malleable and open to suggestion. They crave a strong masculine man to dominate them sexually and socially. They’ll do anything they’re told. Andrew was all that and dazzling to look at. I’d already seen him dance, there was one more thing. 
 
“Can you sing?” I asked.

“Yes, I was in the glee club” said Andrew.

“Sing something.”

“My Country Tis Of Thee” began Andrew, in a light pleasing on-pitch voice.

“Here,” I said handing him a $20 bill and my business card, “Cab fare. Call my office on Monday to check in. When it’s time, I’m going to have an amazing job for you, it’ll pay a hell of a lot more than the clothing store.”  I paid the check; we went outside, Andrew got in a cab on 11th Avenue to the East Village. 

The next night, I drove my car to the West Side piers off Christopher Street. That was a lusty milieu with boys marching around selling themselves to men in parked cars. I shooed off boy after boy until the right one came my way. 

He was medium height, thin and 18. He was wearing tight jeans showing off his great round ass and ample crotch, his right back pocket had a brass key ring, he was into to getting fucked. He wore a white T-shirt under his black leather biker jacket. His dark hair was shaggy, his somehwat swarthy handsome face had a slightly olive complexion, my dick got hard at the sight of this slutty bad boy. He gracefully walked over to my car.

“20 for a blowjob, 40 to go all the way” he said in a pleasant deep New York accent. I handed him three $20 bills.

“Mister, get ready to have a blast!” he said as he grinned with a terrific smile, he flicked the Marlboro Red he had been smoking to the ground as he got into my car in the passenger seat and got down to business. His hands rapidly went for my belt, undid it and undid the buttons of my fly. He yanked my jeans down, my hard eight inches jutted up, the head hit the steering wheel. He bent his head down and took my cock in mouth. His lips and tongue were in overdrive as his head bobbed up and down deepthroating my tool, he did a great job of licking my balls. He was a real street whore who knew his trade of sucking cock, I was having a blast getting excellent head. “I’m ready to go all the way” I said. He took my cock out of his mouth. I got out of the car, from my pocket I took a small tube of Vaseline and greased up my cock. He had gotten out of the car and was on his hands and knees, jeans down, exposing his sensational young ass framed by the white straps of his jockstrap. I greased his hole and rammed my cock in his ass. I held his hips as I fucked him. He moaned with joy as my big cock went in and out of ass. I was turned on by doing it in the car with other people around. I piston-fucked him as his ass eagerly bucked against my cock. He had masculine swagger but was really a bitch in a heat. 

“Oh, yeah!” he hollered, “I’m cumming!”

With a few more thrusts of my cock, I was cumming in him. We cleaned ourselves up with towels. We redid our jeans. He started to walk away. 

“Hey, stay awhile, I did pay extra.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m Don” I said shaking hand.

“I’m Anthony.”

We sat back in the front. I lit a Camel and Anthony lit a Marlboro Red. From the inner pocket of biker jacker, Anthony pulled out a small bottle of Jack Daniels and took a long swig, he was my kind of boy. He handed it to me, I took a short swig. He told me his story.

Anthony was born and raised in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. It was the usual tale. He realized he was gay, started messing around with guys and got known as the neighborhood fag. His father found out, gave him a beating and threw him out of the house. Anthony moved to Manhattan to a West 14th Street flophouse and started hustling. 

“Can you sing?” I asked

Without missing a beat, he began: 

In the day we sweat it out on the streets
Of a runaway American dream
At night we ride through the mansions of glory
In suicide machines
Sprung from cages on Highway 9
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line
Oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we're young
'Cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run…

With his deep expressive voice, he was almost as good as Bruce. 

“Here’s my card, Anthony. On Monday, call my office to check in. Soon, I’m going to have an amazing job for you, you won’t have to sell your mouth and ass to guys in cars again…” Anthony left my car and headed over to another car with a man behind the wheel, he chatted with the driver and then got in. 

Three nights later was Saturday, I was with some friends at the Duplex, it was and is a major West Village piano bar. The expert pianist played as a mixture of patrons got up on the small stage to sing. Eventually one of the waiters got up to sing. He was a thin medium height 18-year-old redhead with a handsome though haunted face, looking at his eyes I knew he was gay. He sang Fleetwood Mac’s “Hold Me.” His powerful voice commanded silence from the packed place. He sung with such force and emotion; he was overwhelming.  

Later when I was leaving with my friends I went over to that awesome singing waiter. 

“You were superb! My name is Don.”

“Thank you, I’m Edmund” he said in a cheery masculine Irish accent. We started into each other’s eyes.

“I’m a casting agent, this is my business card, you’re so right for a project I’m working on. This is my personal card with my address and phone number, this is $20 for cab fare. I know you don’t get off work until 4:00 AM, that’s cool. I’d really like for you to come over my place then.”

“Well Don, I’m off tomorrow and can stay out late” said Edmund in a flirtatious tone and with a lovely smile, “I will see you in the morning…”

“No cute boy is safe around Don!” laughed one of my friends outside.

“Hey! I can’t help it if I’m irresistible!” I laughed.

“I hope the kid has tomorrow off, otherwise he’ll have to call in sick, he won’t be able to wait on tables, he’ll need to recuperate from getting fucked by your dick of death!” we all laughed. “He is off tomorrow! I can fuck him as hard as I like, and he can recuperate all day!”  

I took a cab to my apartment on 49th between 8th and 9th, getting in at 2:00 AM. I got undressed and went to bed. At 4:30 AM I was awoken by the door buzzer, I staggered out of bed and answered it, then there was a knock at the door. I opened it, there was Edmund in his jeans and blue pullover sweater. His eyes widened at the sight of my muscular nude body and humongous raging hardon. He stepped inside and kissed me on the mouth, we passionately made out as he stroked my dick and fondled my balls as I groped his ass, I put my hand down the back of his jeans and fingered his hole. He whimpered as I led him to the bedroom, he undressed. He had a lean toned body and a nice-sized uncut dick which was hard. We got into the bed, continuing to make out.

Eventually Edmund pulled his mouth from mine, he knew it time for him to suck my cock. Oh, he kissed the head of my leaking rod, then stretched his cute young mouth oh so wide and took my piece all the way down his throat while staring at me with his bulging eyes. Then he reverently licked my shaft all over and focused on the underside of the head with his velvet tongue. Edmund knew how to give a great blowjob. The motion of his mouth suckling my balls was bringing me close, he sensed that. He positioned himself on his back, raised his legs and spread his ass for me. I got out of the bed and greased my cock and his hole with Vaseline. Oh! His membranes parted for my cock then clamped around it. He sobbed as I penetrated his inner regions, he was so warm tight against my cock when it was buried deep in him. I started fucking him, I bent my head down to kiss him. I don’t often get sentimental, but I felt this fuck was mutually special, there was something about Edmund that moved me. We thrashed about with lust as he received each thrust of my cock in his ass with his gasps of pleasure. Those sounds intensified as my fucking made his dick shoot off, his load splattering my chest. Soon, I was grunting as I came in him. I pulled out and we cleaned ourselves up.

We sat nude in the living room sipping Jack Daniels on the rocks, the glowing Edmund smoked a Marlboro Red, I smoked a Camel.

“Thanks, it’s been a while” said Edmund in his Irish accent. 

“Really? You’re gorgeous, you must get hit on all the time.”

“Aye, rarely by a man such as yourself. I’ve been with men, but not the way you had me.”

“And what kind of man am I?”

“A strong one who is who he is. I saw you watching me when I sang, I wanted you so badly.”

“Well, you sure got me” I chuckled, “So what’s a nice Irish boy like you doing in New York?”

Edmund’s voice tightened and his eyes teared, “I’ve never told anyone this…”   

Edmund grew up in an Irish orphanage of undisclosed parentage. That place was typically horrific with priests not being priestly. At 16, Edmund was sent to work in a pub, the owner was no better than the priests. Edmund learned the bar trade and began singing there. When he turned 18, three months ago, with money he saved he made it to New York. He lived way up in Inwood, sharing an apartment with three other male illegal Irish immigrants who were straight.  

We drank some more Jack Daniels.

“Well, I’d best be getting on my way” said Edmund.

“No, you’re welcome to stay and sleep in” I said surprising myself. As you know, I’m a fuck’em and leave’em kind of guy.

“That would be grand, if you really want me to.”

“Yes, I want you to” I said before kissing him. We got into bed, I cuddled Edmund as we fell asleep.

I woke at noon to the great feeling and sight of Edmund with my hard dick in his mouth. He was in the process of showing his appreciation of me by giving me a fantastic blowjob. I shot off my large load in his throat, he swallowed my cum, then took his mouth off my cock, the rest of my cum drenched his adorable face and red hair. We showered, dressed and I took him to brunch at Curtain Up! This was a great simple restaurant frequented by show people, on the wall were the names of virtually every performer known at the time. We had steak and eggs and Bloody Mary’s. Edmund got to me. He was a tortured lost soul; he was young and could get past all that through happiness. We’d enjoy whatever it was we were having before it would inevitably have to end. 

“Hey, instead of staying in Inwood with a bunch of nasty blokes, until this project takes off why don’t you stay with me?”

“Oh, that mysterious project!”

“All in good time, it’ll mean you won’t have to wait on tables and get leered at.”

“Well, Mr. Don Castellano, if you want me, I’m all yours.”

“Oh, I want you!”

After brunch, we took a cab to Inwood. Edmund’s shared apartment was a real dump, his roommates were scruffy brutes in their early 20’s wearing grimy jeans. He packed up his things in one suitcase, I peeled off three-hundred-dollar bills and handed them to a brute on account of Edmund leaving on such short notice. 

“Ed, we’re going to miss you, how about a last suck?” said one of the roommates in a deep Irish accented voice.

“Okay, Liam” said Edmund as he got on his knees.

The three hulking roommates sat on a tattered living room couch, unzipped their worn jeans and pulled out their large uncut Irish cocks. One by one Edmund sucked off each cock, swallowing down each of the young men’s loads. The priests had trained Edmund well, he could go far with a mouth such as his. We cabbed back to my place. 

“Oh! I love Bette Davis! This one is my favorite!” Edmund hollered as All About Eve began on my large living room television as we smoked and drank Jack Daniels. I can still hear Edmund joyously pronouncing her name as BET Davis in his Irish accent. After the movie, we undressed, went to in the bed and had another hot sweaty fuck. 

Monday morning, after Edmund gave me a fabulous morning blowjob, I told him to call the Duplex’s manager and quit.

“I can’t do that!” 

“Sure, you can. They’re paying you so little because it’s under the table, you’re worth more. You don’t need to be busting your ass there. Until you get a payday, I’ll take care of you, it’s cool.”

Edmund called the manager who took the news in stride.

“I’m going to work, meet me at Gallagher’s on 52nd Street at 6:00 PM for dinner.”

“What’ll I do all day? I’m used to working?”

“I don’t know, go to the movies, go to a museum, go to bed, you’ll think of something” I said peeling off a few twenty-dollar-bills and putting them on the kitchen table along with a spare set of keys to my apartment. 

“Oh, so now I’m a kept woman!” giggled Edmund.

“Hey babe, you’re worth every penny” I said as I kissed Edmund and groped his ass.

Yes, during work, I got my cock sucked in my office by a cute young wannabe hopeless striving actor, then I fucked him on my desk. Hey, you know me, I’m no saint.

At 6:00 PM, there was the beaming Edmund waiting in front of Gallagher’s, a historic steakhouse. He was all wholesome and shiny in his khakis and button-down blue shirt, he’d dressed up. They knew me there; I was fine in jeans and a plaid shirt. 

“Look at that!” exclaimed Edmund at the sight of all the displayed beef aging in the showcase refrigerator on the way in. The host led us to a secluded table.

“Jesus! Look at these prices!” gasped Edmund when he was looking at the menu, “I’ve never been to such a grand restaurant.”

“Good evening, Mr. Castellano” said the middle-aged suited waiter.

“Good evening, Louis. We’ll start with a Caesar salad and crab cake to share, the Porterhouse for two, creamed spinach and hash browns, and two vodka martinis.”

“Very good, Mr. Castellano.”

Edmund told me about his day, he walked around and ended up at the Museum of Modern Art. It was the first museum he’d been to, he spent hours there dazzled. 

We finished dinner and another martini. We headed to Xenon; it was a major NYC nightclub in Times Square. It was packed with beautiful people. I flashed a card and we were admitted into the VIP section to a booth. I ordered a bottle of champagne. “I could get used to this!” exclaimed Edmund. We took in the scene. Then I led Edmund to the dance floor. Of course, I needn’t have worried. He was a fantastic dancer with his youthful expressive moves, he was smiling and into it. My dick got so hard watching him as we danced together. He could see the bulge in my jeans and dirty danced with his ass in his khakis grinding against the hardon in my jeans. We were in the groove, dancing and drinking champagne.

We cabbed back to my place, tore off our clothes and got into bed. Edmund passionately sucked my cock, then I passionately fucked him, we came at the same time. I cuddled him afterward. Edmund was perfect, as were Andrew and Anthony…

                                                                                                               ***

A month earlier I had a lunch meeting at the 21 Club with Steve Krantz. He was a foremost independent music producer. He was 38 years old, short, in shape, had a hawk-like nose and a receding hairline. His greatest feature was that he was hung, he was bigger than me. He miraculously was blessed with eight-an-half inches of girthy cock, and two giant balls. Above the waist, Steve wasn’t much, below the waist he was a god. He was gay, and an aggressive total top, my kind of guy. We’d bonded over the years during some wild fuck sessions. He was as vicious in fucking as he was in business. Boys could get past his lack of good looks when then got a look at his equipment. He broke a lot of hearts and a lot of asses. 

“MTV is it!” began Steve. “I want to create a new boy band who pop in videos. Don, that’s where you come in. Find me three gorgeous boys that teenage girls will get wet over and gay men will cream over. They must sing at least competently, dance fantastically, have charm and are not faggy. And of course, they have to put out” he chuckled. 

“Steve, this project is right up my alley. I’ll get working on it…”

I was sitting in a suite at the Pierre a month later. Steve wore jeans and a blue T-shirt. His 24-year-old nephew Sam was there. He was a handsome tall built blond, in jeans, brown cowboy boots and a dark blue Dior shirt. 

Andrew, Anthony and Edmund were standing before us in white jockstraps.

“Fuck, Don!” yelled Steve, “You’ve outdone yourself! They’re gorgeous! My dick is rock hard looking at them! That is the true test in show business!”

“Wait till you see them in action!” I said.

For two weeks, the three boys had been working with a singing teacher and a choreographer on a group number. I pressed the play button on a boom box that played a jumping music track. For the next five minutes, the boys commandingly sang in harmony and separately, while thrillingly dancing. The mediocre song was over. 

“They ARE the band!” yelled Steve, “Now we’ll seal the deal!” he said as he stood and took off his jeans and T-shirt. His body was thin and toned, his massive erection and globular balls were revealed. I heard the boys gasp, I had coached them on what to expect, but SEEING IT was believing. Steve sat in a wingchair with his legs spread and snorted cocaine. 

The boys scampered over to him and got on their knees. Oh! Those boys were gaga for Steve’s gigantic cock. It was big enough for all three to lick it at the same time. They took turns do their best deepthroating it. Their three young faces were suckling Steve’s heavy ball sack. Steve looked a king on a throne in a Renaissance painting being serviced by his courtiers.  

“Take a break, boys” ordered Steve in his gruff voice. “Help yourselves” he said indicating a bowl of cocaine on the coffee table. Andrew, Anthony and Edmund’s dicks were all straining in their jockstraps. They each grabbed small spoons and began snorting cocaine. Steve wanted them buzzed for the main event and being blasted would really put them in the mood. “Get in the bed, hands and knees, ass up!” ordered Steve.

Andrew, Anthony and Edmund positioned themselves on the round bed as ordered. They could all look at each other, their coked-up faces all had expressions of wild lust, they were panting to get fucked by Steve’s incredible cock. 

One by one, Steve slapped their asses and then greased their holes from a tub of Vaseline. Then he greased up his fantastic tool. He rammed it straight into Andrew who let out a bloodcurdling scream. Steve bucked his hips and fucked Andrew, then he pulled out and shoved his cock into Anthony who hollered, “Jesus!” Edmund bellowed when it was his turn to get impaled. It was fascinating to see how their assholes stretched out and around to accommodate Steve’s epic rod. After sampling each boy ass and giving each of them a taste of his cock, Steve methodically fucked Andrew who let out the most orgasmic yelps as he came in his jock, Anthony wailed as Steve fucked him and made him cum. Lucky Edmund sobbed as he came, and Steve groaned as he shot off in Edmund. He pulled out, there was my Edmund’s gaping hole oozing with Steve’s cumload. Steve swaggered to the bathroom.

Sam and I had taken our clothes off. Sam was a built blond stud with eight cut inches. The boys took turns sucking our cocks and we took turns fucking them. Steve returned from his shower wearing a dark blue thick velour robe and sat at a desk. “Pleasure, now business” he said, “Take a seat boys.” Andrew, Anthony and Edmund, staggered out of the soiled bed and limped to three seats across from Steve.

“These are your 5-year contracts. You will be known as Andy, Tony, and Eddy, respectively.  You will record an album, you will make a video, you will go on tour. I get 40% of all net earnings after recoupment, you each get 15%, Don gets a 5% finder’s fee in perpetuity, Sam gets 10% as your manager. He will run the day-to-day operations. He will also be your pimp. During the day you will be pimped out to clients in between publicity and promotion. At night after your shows, you will be pimped out to high rollers who want to fuck stars. You will each get 50% of such revenues. Sign it.”

The coked out and fucked out boys all signed. What else were they going to do? Potential pop stardom beat working the docks or in a clothing store or waiting on tables.

“Clean yourselves up, get dressed, Sam will take you to his apartment where you will live before you go out on the road.” Said Steve. Sam had a two-bedroom on East 57th Street. One for him and one for Andy, Tony and Eddy to share. They all went off to shower, they returned dressed and left with Sam. I shook hands with Steve, took a shower dressed and left. My work was done. 

“Sonny” was the name of the band. An album of 10 songs was recorded. Rolling Stone trashed it but put the group on the cover as they were so stunning together. They got a lot of press and were seen as a minor though winning contrivance of the moment. The one hit was “Andrea, it charted at #10.” It was a rocking provocative song about a bad girl each of the boys had fucked. The racy homoerotic video with the boys in tight light blue jumpsuits was filmed in a garage was in heavy rotation on MTV and was nominated for their awards. Two other similar videos were filmed. For the next year, Sonny performed all over the U.S. in theaters, the highlight was a sold-out show at Radio City Music Hall. 

I went to the after-party at the Warwick Hotel where the Beatles stayed. It was some party, talk about sex, drugs and rock and roll! I took my clothes off and joined Steve, Sam and 10 upper echelon men who had paid for the privilege of fucking three sensational boys in a suite as cocaine was consumed. Edmund, Anthony and Andrew, had all by now acclimated to the lifestyle of putting out en masse. Every cock was sucked to perfection by them, and their asses were all multiply used. 

Then it was on to Asia, they were big in Japan, Korea and the Philippines. It all fell apart after two years. A month after celebrating his 40th birthday with a wild orgy I had attended, Steve Krantz died of a heart attack. His company crumbled without him, Sonny disbanded, there was no interest from other music companies in maintaining the band which was regarded as a joke and known to be comprised of hustlers as many executives had fucked them. Still, the boys all came out it well off. 

Edmund settled down in Tokyo with a young Japanese businessman. Anthony paired up with agent Sam and moved to Los Angeles where they produced porn flicks. Andrew fell in love with a hot roadie and they opened a Fire Island night club called Sonny’s, it was decorated with band memorabilia. Some old queens would reminisce about having seen them in concert; others could brag about having fucked them.