Darlinghurst Road Read Online Free

clubbing, the closet gay who felt that this was the only place
he could come and be discreet, the cheap straight guy looking for
something his girlfriend wouldn’t do and of course, our usual cast
of regulars. Last place belonged to the wall boys.
    The serious gays were the worst because they
had a sense of ownership over the street and felt pissed about
having to pay for anything and even more pissed when they couldn’t
get the type of sex they were looking for within five minutes of
walking through the door. The endless questions: How many people
are upstairs? Any such and such types? Can I go take a quick look
before I pay? It got old and these were the men that I would have
no hesitation in kicking out when they became obnoxious.
    On weekends, Oxford Street would be packed
with club patrons and party types of all descriptions but during
the week it all came down to the regulars. They were what kept us
going through the quiet times. Although at one time or another,
most of them pissed me off in some way, I was always glad to see
the old familiar faces. They knew the boundaries and they were
rarely any trouble.
    The regulars were a mixed bunch: at least two
lawyers, a judge, a teacher at a leading Sydney private school and
various other occupations from professional men to laborers. Some
of them would identify as gay but others would not yet here they
all were, hanging around a sleazy sex club at three o’clock in the
morning. They would talk to me and between themselves, rarely
having any sort of conversation with new faces. For some of these
men with secrets to keep, it was more a social gathering and the
sex if it happened was secondary.
    Male prostitution was a constant problem but
we also had our share of female prostitutes and went through the
same battles with them. Secretly, I had no problem with them trying
to earn a buck and doing it in one of our rooms because it was a
lot safer than a back alley. However, policy from on high was no
sex workers so I would move them on when someone complained or if
they just stood out a mile.
    Occasionally a working girl would try to make
friends with one of the staff so that they wouldn't kick her out
and that could be difficult to deal with. My policy was the same as
it had always been, business only and leave the pleasure side to
the customers. It’s too easy to be compromised and ultimately, it
just makes the job harder. That was a lesson that Mandy always
preached to her staff and it made sense to me.
    There would be the occasional issue on
weekends with customers thinking staff walking through the dark
club were also cruising but a quick blink of a flashlight usually
sent them on their way, embarrassed and apologetic. The regulars
were never a problem with that sort of thing because they all knew
me. Maybe also, it was because they knew I had the power to throw
them out of their second home or maybe it was out of respect
because I treated them like human beings unlike most of the outside
world. I don’t know, but for whatever reason, we got along.
    After Mandys with all its characters and
having seen pretty much everything related to sex and Kings Cross
night life, nothing shocked me. The Pleasure Palace and
establishments just like it, anywhere in the world, are sometimes
the only place where a person can go to be themselves and it's
always been my opinion, that a person's private life belongs to
them.
     
    The Wall
    As I mentioned in an earlier, the so called
wall boys get their name from the short stretch of stone wall that
runs along the end of Darlinghurst Road until it meets up with
Oxford Street at its junction in Taylor Square. The wall has served
as a pickup address for countless generations of young male
prostitutes.
    A few would always figure out that it might
be safer to hang around the all-night club's like the Pleasure
Palace and try to get picked up. The regulars would object or they
would try to steal a wallet in the dark so I’d kick them out and
the