Road 2 Elsewhere, Excerpt #42: The Least Likely Customer in Paris's Red Light District

That would be me. WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY PETER MOORE

LIKE GOLDMUND, POST-SEDUCTION, I was soon off to explore Europe. (Link to that story, here. It involves literary sex, as imagined by Herman Hesse, so you might want to give it a read.)

But not without a last blast on the town with my Irish friend Seamus, which I wrote about in detail in my journals. 

And I didn’t have time for a full accounting of my final, forbidden-fruitless night with Diamant? Maybe I was simply too ashamed by my body shyness to write another word about it. 

But I could handle walking, dining, and ogling around Paris with a non-threatening male friend, though. 

We began our farewell tour at Chartier, Metro Rue Montmartre. The place was teeming with Frenchmen, all lured by the passable, inexpensive food and the 6F bottles of wine. But it wasn't just cheap. It was the atmosphere of the place: Wooden beams, vast mirrors, plaster walls, brass coat racks and shelving, wooden chairs, sawdust floor, globe chandeliers, ventilator fans in the ceiling, wooden balcony, shouting w…