By day, Peter Nguyen slays behind a double monitor and marketing optimizations. By night, he slays in 6-inch heels within New York’s drag and kink scene. These are his chronicles as told over croissants and coffee.
It’s Thursday evening and I walk into a restaurant in Flatiron that I walk past everyday on my way to work. Once I saw what was happening inside, I swore I would never go there to eat.
I walk in with my friends in tow and introduce myself to the gentleman standing by the bouncer and hostess. I recognize him from his penchant of oversized fur stoles that a friend told me to look out for. He greets me and ushers us through the entranceway into the restaurant where we see a sea of beautiful women that outnumber the men maybe 3:1.
This place is the infamous moving stripclub that changes locations in NYC every night. The only way to get in is to know the location on any given night and the password. It’s called the St. Venus Theater.
“I approach one of the girls, she’s smiling at me—oh lord, she has no idea I’m a faggot yet.”
The front part of the lounge looks like you walked into an upscale bar where the women are beautifully dressed. The women give off an amateur girl-next-door vibe. Definitely not the 7-inch-clear-platform-heels-I’ve-been-doing-this-for-way-too-long vibe. The men are young finance bros and foreign diplomats who like a good schtick (because apparently someone in their entourage can’t find them an escort, they need better friends… like me).
The room is split into two by a large curtain hanging from the ceiling. My friend hands me a wad of twenties and tells me to have fun. I mean, how much fun can a homosexual have in a room full of women? I approach one of the girls, she’s smiling at me—oh lord, she has no idea I’m a faggot yet. We make some small talk and she takes my hand, walks me towards the back of the room and slides the curtain to reveal a rather boring looking orgy of half-naked women grinding on clothed men.
She dances on me and tells me to feel her breasts. I’m giggling profusely asking her how she got into this line of work. It’s clear to her by now I have no interest in anything she has to offer other than how to gyrate on someone’s lap well. She’s a student at FIDM looking to pay off her school loans. I look around at the sea of women dancing on men and I realize how glad I am that I’m gay…we have an app for this.