Remember Frank Vickers? He was a jacked up body builder who did some solo porn for Colt and got fucked in one of Colt’s infrequent hardcore films.

One night I was at a sex party in the long-gone sleaze district on far West 14th Street in Manhattan, the Hellfire Club or one of those in the cluster of sex clubs and sex bars. It was a j/o party with a clothes check.

I saw a cluster of naked studs working their own—and each other’s—stiff rods, and thought, that big guy looks a little like Frank Vickers if Frank Vickers’ face was sort of frumpy and lumpy. He played with my cock a bit and I did the same to him, but he was more interested in the beefier types—water seeking its own level, or that gay narcissism that is erotically attracted to a mirror image.

Later I realized he had, indeed, been Frank Vickers, minus the glamour machine of Rip Colt’s lighting and grooming. This was confirmed when I saw him again having lunch on Eighth Avenue, in the light of day rather than in the red ambience of the sex club.

Certainly an unimpressive encounter, but a notch on the porn groupie bedpost. Though we were nowhere near a bed….