Reading porn at the Drake

How did it happen, that I'd witness a man
arousing another man, and a woman, on
the bed of a crashpad at the Drake Hotel?
When he mentioned the nub. It was the nub
that did it. The man rolled and rubbed his
partner. Or is she his partner. Do they know
each other. Security arrives, like a flying
Panamanian ant. Security ignores the
arousal. Security is sniffing out
a lit cigarette. In one room there's Howard
Hughes, another has John and Yoko in bed.
A woman sits on a cabinet and
delivers a monologue between
her legs. At least the voice feels like
it is coming out of her thighs. There is a
movie star in the lobby. There are legit
smokers warming themselves at kerosene
lamps on the plastic wrapped deck. A woman
in a long gilt skirt sips a martini like
a duchess, until a man in distressed jeans
and tuxedo jacket leans his hipbone into
her elbow. A woman in a red tshirt surprises
me with her voice and the arrangement of
her teeth. She is beautiful in the way
that an outboard motor is beautiful.