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Montreal: December 2007


newatthis
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CAVEAT LECTOR. This is an excessively long report packed with minutiae of limited interest. Continue at your own risk.

 

Anticipation. I haven’t been in Montreal since June; I can wait no longer. I reserve for early December. My anticipation is heightened by ongoing correspondence with MTLover, whose trip will overlap mine. We swap email after email, speculating on the weather, the exchange rate (as the Canadian dollar approaches $1.10), the hotels, which of our favorite dancers will be working, how much planning is too much, and around and around again.

 

Disturbing reports from recent visitors – the strip clubs are moribund; there are few dancers worth the time or money – make me resolve to find the proper balance between not-enough and too-much advance scheduling. Without doubt I need fallbacks if the clubs are dull, but also sufficient unstructured time for spur-of-the-moment adventures. And my usual jump-start for these trips, a first-day meeting with [a href=http://geocities.com/massage_zen/steve.html]world-class masseur Steve[/a], is not possible; he’s no longer doing erotic massage.

 

I organize a Monday session with [a href=http://www.rentboy.com/mark148]Mark[/a] and take out a first-refusal option on other afternoons with him. I email a couple of dancers about my plans, hoping to see them early in the week at work before my time gets filled up.

 

A bright idea: why not check out Montreal craigslist? I whip off responses to some promising ads and hear back from three: escort JS, erotic masseur Jamie, and an escort masquerading, it seems, as a masseur. I get phone numbers and write that I’ll be in touch when I get to town.

 

Things begin to fall into place a few weeks before I leave. I write MTLover “there’s a lot of good karma now.” A seat opens up on the early morning flight I favor. Patient priceline bidding snags me the Hyatt for a pittance. (My heart has been in my throat over this, since the advertised rates at the sleazier Doubletree and Novotel are about half the Hyatt’s.) Answers to my emails start arriving. Steve has resumed erotic massage. Taboo dancer Julien: “I’ll be working probably both days sunday is 100% sure I’ll be there monday maybe 80%”. Taboo dancer Tim, [a href=http://mc.daddysreviews.com/dcboard.php?az=show_topic&forum=18&topic_id=15835&mesg_id=15835]last June’s infatuation[/a], has given up dancing, but would be happy to accompany me to a concert.

 

Sunday. In [a href=http://mc.daddysreviews.com/dcboard.php?az=show_topic&forum=18&topic_id=12946&mesg_id=12946]December 2005[/a], my 50-seat Embraer jet had only 6 passengers. What a difference this time! – the plane is not only full, it’s oversold, and American is requesting volunteers to give up their seats. Not me – just let them try to bump me! Despite the snow, sleet, and freezing rain last night, there are no flight delays.

 

I’m through customs and out the door within minutes. The hell with the 20 minute wait for the shuttle bus; I’ll spring for the $35 cab ride to the Hyatt. It’s my favorite hotel, with its underground connection to the arts complex and the métro (4 minutes to Beaudry), along with multiple shops, restaurants and ATMs. In today’s cold – in the 20’s, with a stiff wind that makes it feel much colder – that’s an enormous perk.

 

The friendly Hyatt staff has accommodated all my requests: high floor, 2 beds, far from the elevators. I even have an in-room safe – no need to bother the front desk to open the safe deposit every time I need to dip into my cash reserve. I do an ATM run (our currencies are back to par), shower and shave, buy a métro pass, and head into the Village for my massage.

 

It’s hard to believe this is the same Steve as 6 months ago. He’s laid back and easy-going, just as when we first met in 2004. He suspended doing erotic massage in order to “recharge”, and the difference is immediately apparent. As he positions his hands over my back, warmth and energy seem to flow even before he touches me. (Other things flow as well. :9) And his playful eroticism has also returned.

 

On to Campus. I usually settle down by myself with a beer to check things out when I first arrive. Not this time – at the top of the stairs, I spot my first dancer crush, Pascal, at the end of the bar, as cute as a button and as sexy as ever. He has returned after 3 years as a busboy downstairs at Mado’s. I make a beeline for him, give him a big hug and kiss. He’s a master of the soft caress and bold grope while carrying on a conversation. I’m in heaven.

 

But that’s not all. I recognize Sébastien, who also stopped dancing several years ago. I met him only once, but his maturity, congenial personality, and hot lap dance made an unforgettable impression. To my astonishment, he remembers me. Even more surprising, I discover in conversation that it was he, under a different name, who [a href=http://mc.daddysreviews.com/dcboard.php?az=show_mesg&forum=18&topic_id=5250&mesg_id=5291]rescued me at Taboo[/a] back when I had not yet cracked the code and sat alone and ignored, feeling sorry for myself. I also see Damien, Shannon, Jason, Roberto, and Francesco.

 

The 9 pm witching hour, when these cute guys metamorphose into tired old straight muscle clones, is drawing nigh (I left Steve’s much later than planned). I set out for the back with one of my favorites, promising the other I’ll catch him tomorrow.

 

After dinner I proceed to Taboo. Notwithstanding his emailed assurances, Julien is nowhere to be seen. In fact, there aren’t many dancers at all, and even fewer customers. Something happens which is unheard of at Taboo, a song with no dancer on stage. I spot Max, Dano, Brian, and 2 dancers new to me, Jonathan and Zachary. The latter is a well-built, cute Mexican. I reel him in to my table; he’s not much of a conversationalist, but he is adorable. Unfortunately his back room style is about as interesting as his conversation. I cut him off at 2 songs. It’s been a long day. I head back to my hotel.

 

Monday. I awaken to leaden skies and soft, heavy snow. There are already 20 centimeters on the ground; a total of 30 is forecast. I don’t care; I’m at the Hyatt. Into the métro, out at Beaudry, and a few steps west to Autour d’un Pain for coffee and croissants. As I sit in the window watching the snow, [a href=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9AQne0Qu-ek]huge double plows[/a] cruise up and down Ste. Cathérine while [a href=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5a244FKD7E]others clear the sidewalks[/a].

 

Autour d’un Pain is my office. Over coffee, I set the time of my afternoon appointment with Mark, then call ex-dancer Tim about tonight’s concert. He has school commitments; he’ll get back to me about lunch or dinner later in the week. No matter; I discover the concert is sold out. But wait! – the Place des Arts box office has a proposition right out of John Le Carré. Follow this hand-drawn map to the locked glass door. Press the intercom button and say “Orchestre Symphonique”. Go 2 flights up the service stairs to the business office. Miraculously, these instructions produce a ticket.

 

Next agenda item: tomorrow afternoon. Time to get out those craigslist numbers. On the phone, escort JS sounds promising – to the list of activities in his email, he adds total versatility. He quotes a price that is more than reasonable. We set up a rendezvous at the Hyatt.

 

Mark and I have an agreeable session, followed by some useful conversation. Then it’s time for Campus. Just 4 dancers, but it takes only one to make an afternoon worthwhile, and I have both Sébastien and Pascal.

 

Dinner next door at La Piazzetta. There’s a very cute waiter to accompany the excellent food, who after many visits now recognizes me. We indulge in a little mild flirting. He rests his hand on mine while explaining the new wines. I notice a ring and ask if he’s married. “No, it’s a memento of my grandmother.” “Oh, you must wear it to keep guys from hitting on you.” “No, I wear it so they’ll ask about it.” :-)

 

Back at the hotel, I shed my winter gear and make my way underground to the symphony. Great seat; great music; good, but not great, performance. Beethoven’s Fifth, the finale, drives the crowd wild. Maestro Nagano makes a graceful little speech in halting French about never before having seen so much snow, then favors us with an encore. I briefly consider rounding out my evening at Taboo, but snow is still falling. I call it a night.

 

Tuesday. Morning at the Musée d'art contemporain’s Vik Muniz and Karel Funk exhibitions (again no need to go outside). Muniz’ work has a playful edge: witness his “Medusa Marinara”

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[img src="http://www.ikonltd.com/images/lg/muniz---medusa-marinara.jpg" border=0]

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a head of Medusa etched into a plate of spaghetti, the pasta forming her wild hair, or “Mona Lisa in peanut butter and jelly”

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[img src="http://www.artslant.com/work/image/3637/92c82u/Muniz_MonaLisa_web.jpg" align=center border=0]

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Back at the hotel, craigslist escort JS is a disaster. At first I think he’s scamming me; then I realize he’s just scared out of his mind. He barely utters a word from the time he arrives until the sex is over; then, all of a sudden, he becomes voluble. By that point, my only goal is to get him out of my room as quickly as possible.

 

Campus is much livelier than yesterday; the staff party is tonight and dancers are out in force. There’s Alonzo (he’s now waiting tables in an upscale restaurant and has cut back on his dancing), Max (5’ 7”, shaved head, heavily muscled personal trainer with a sweet personality), Dominick, Sammy (former dancer and waiter at Taboo), Marco, and Francis. I’m to meet my local friend F here. He arrives, sizes up Marco, and immediately repairs with him to the back. In the meantime, I try to set up a hotel date with a favorite – we’ve discussed this on previous visits, but it’s never come to pass. He’s more than willing and the details (what? how much?) are settled quickly and painlessly, but there’s uncertainty about whether our schedules will mesh. He takes my phone number and says he’ll call tomorrow.

 

F emerges at last with a favorable report, and we head to La Piazzetta for dinner and flirtation.

 

It’s Tuesday night at Taboo, which means Francis is there. So are Max and Mike. I spend most of the evening sitting with them, buying drinks and talking. I love the way Mike and Francis dance, and do the ugly American thing of tipping them on stage, since I never take them to the back room. I do take Max to the back; we have a good time, and I also get an update on his convoluted love life. This is also Criss’ night to dance rather than tend bar. I meet Nathan, a tall twink, who commits the unpardonable sin of leaving to go on stage with the drink I just bought him and never returning. I take note of Sasha, another imaginative dancer, more solidly built than most.

 

Wednesday. On my way to the métro I run into Maestro Nagano. I express my appreciation for Monday’s concert and we exchange a few words about my hometown orchestra, which he’s conducted several times.

 

It’s a bright, sunny day; the snow has ended and we’re on the cold side of the weather system. I sit in my usual spot in the bakery window mulling over the remainder of my trip. There’s a session this afternoon with craigslist masseur Jamie, who sounds very professional; I’m confident I won’t be disappointed. But my Campus dancer hasn’t called about our hotel rendezvous; what will I do tomorrow afternoon? A sudden fancy strikes. I’ve been intrigued by twinky Asian escort [a href=http://www.daddysreviews.com/area.php?loc=51500-0-12-10&who=johnny_montreal]Johnny[/a], who’s very different from my usual type; why not try him out? A quick call and tomorrow afternoon is taken care of.

 

Just as I’m about to leave, I get a call from ex-dancer Tim, who’s been incommunicado since Monday (I’ve about given up on him) – can we have dinner tonight? We’ll meet at Beaudry at 7 pm. I spend the rest of the morning at the Fine Arts Museum, at a fascinating exhibit of sacred African art, mostly from the collections of Cirque du Soleil, and some equally interesting installations of “e-art”. A light lunch at Chuch, then on to Jamie.

 

Jamie works from his beautiful second-floor apartment in the Village overlooking Ste. Cathérine, which is a winter wonderland illuminated by the street lights. Heated massage table, top quality massage gel. Tall, strong, with heavenly hands. On this first visit, he is much more limited erotically than Steve, but I suspect that might change should I become a regular. At any rate, I’m more than happy – craigslist isn’t all bad!

 

At Campus, I spend quality time with Chris, who now has a [a href=http://www.myspace.com/chris_stallion]web page[/a] devoted to his developing wrestler persona – he assures me that his self-description as “straight” is strictly for the wrestling crowd. I observe Yan and Sean, both new to me. Dinner with ex-dancer Tim is fun, especially after we get deep into our bottle of wine. He’s as beautiful as ever, but I have recovered from last summer‘s infatuation. His career is going well, and it won’t be long before he graduates and has a real job.

 

Tonight is the best so far at Taboo. For the first time this week I see Dominick, Pierre-Luc, Diego, Kelly, Danick, and the gorgeous Hugo.

 

One thing is missing, however. It’s at Taboo that I usually fall in love, and that has yet to happen. Jonathan (called “Jo” by the DJ to avoid confusion with Nathan), whose long lashes, beautiful green eyes, and well-toned body caught my eye on Sunday, is back – perfect timing, since I’ve had my fill of twinks. I wave him over to my table. He’s training as an interior decorator and seems like an interesting guy, but the conversation doesn’t really take off. There’s a little mutual touching, but it’s not doing much for me. I consider calling it quits, but reckon I should do a couple of dances before I leave as a “thank-you” for his time.

 

In the back everything changes. I run my hands over his chest and nipples and gently stroke his body. He responds instantly to my touch with softly erotic kisses and caresses of his own. By the end of the second song, he’s so turned on that he begins languidly massaging himself (confounded, I think, that I haven’t grabbed for him). He touches me more and more erotically. When the dances end, we continue talking – suddenly his conversation has perked up. Alas, he will not be working tomorrow, my last evening in town. And he will quit dancing for good in January when begins his internship. Within a single hour I’ve managed to fall in love and have my hopes dashed!

 

Thursday. Breakfast in my usual window seat, then on to the [a href=http://www.cca.qc.ca/table.asp?lang=eng]Canadian Centre for Architecture[/a], where my métro pass gets me in free. The exhibitions here are always a little offbeat; today it’s the energy crisis of 1973/74, complete with energy board games and magazines of the period.

 

Johnny’s running a little late because of school. I leave a message for MTLover, now en route, enjoining him from calling my room before 5 pm. When Johnny appears, it’s immediately clear he’s going to push my boundaries quite a bit. He’s slim and smells terrific (later he sprays me with his cologne), has a unisex hairdo, and wears a stylish shirt that could easily be a blouse. (He is no longer the skater boy of his Daddy's Reviews picture.) His somewhat high-pitched voice is not at all effeminate; this is how I imagine the voices of the bar boys in John Burdett’s Bangkok mysteries. He’s alternately softly yielding and aggressive, and quite a tiger in bed. He seems uninterested in the clock and tries to talk me into letting him stay the night. But I’m looking forward too much to swapping stories with MTLover.

 

MTLover calls from a cab stuck in rush hour traffic on the 720, currently under construction. What took me 15 minutes on Sunday takes him an hour and a half. He’ll catch up with me at Campus.

 

On this last afternoon, Antwan is the waiter. He’s in school, training as an architectural draftsman (he requests – jokingly, I think – that I ask here for donations towards his tuition). He’s anxious to leave Campus: “It’s not like it was 10 years ago. Since they installed the curtains, this is nothing but prostitution!” I think he’s overreacting; plenty happened in the back well before there were curtains.

 

I take a chance on Josh, new to me, who stands forlornly with no one to talk to. I ask for $10 dances, and he’s pretty generous even with the curtain open. After a couple of songs, he suggests closing the curtain. Me: ”will it be worth the extra money?” Him: “Definitely!” Guess what? – it’s not! I stop the clock after the next song.

 

MTLover arrives. I introduce him to Pascal, whom he’s lusted for since June. Before I know it, they’re in the back room. He emerges briefly, and then goes back with Alonzo – he’s off to a running start.

 

Other dancers on Thursday at Campus: Hugo, Brandon, Alex, Silvester (now sporting a mustache), Erick (cute, blond, muscled construction worker; definitely on my to-do list for next visit), Gabriel, Miguel.

 

At MTLover’s request, we dine at Saloon for the eye candy as much as the food, opting for the quieter upstairs. I bring him up to date on my adventures, then we walk in the bitter cold to Taboo.

 

Ten dancers and an equal number of customers – uncommonly quiet for a Thursday. MTLover is exhausted after his long trip and I have an early flight tomorrow, so we skip Stock and call it a night around 11. Before leaving I lay some groundwork with Sasha for next time, tipping him on stage and complimenting him for putting his heart into his routine even when the room is practically empty. He responds “I dance for myself as much as for the customers.”

 

Some final observations. Campus is the happening place, at least until 9 pm – I never stay for “night” Campus (a regular who dances both shifts tells me nights are packed with the tired old dancers of yesteryear). The afternoon dancers are affectionate, sociable, and in no hurry to rush you into the back. Almost all actually dance while on stage. In this, Campus has taken on the best characteristics of Taboo.

 

I spent every afternoon at Campus. A lot of the time I sat and talked with dancers I like, buying them a drink or two, choosing one for an extended stint in the back. Although I found almost all the afternoon dancers attractive as well as pleasant (no surliness, for example, from those I warned that I wouldn’t be inviting them for lap dances), I stuck mostly to dancers I had known previously.

 

There were various monetary arrangements depending on the dancer. With one I’ve been grandfathered in at $10/song. I give another money up front and let him decide how much time to give me – he’s always very generous. I suggest the same arrangement to someone else, but he insists on the standard $20/song (curtain closed). I tell a fourth that I want to do $10 dances; he says that’s fine, but closes the curtain anyway for the $10 price.

 

Taboo, pretty slow the whole week, had its redeeming features. Even when the room was almost empty, the dancers, like Sasha, didn’t abandon their professionalism. And there was always at least one dancer whose attentions made the evening worthwhile.

 

I never got to Stock or L’Adonis.

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newatthis- Enjoyed your report very much! (As well as dinner at Saloon on Thursday night where the conversation/topics never seem to exhaust themselves :) )

 

Although the temps were FRIGID, I feel fortunate I visited last weekend instead of this weekend as I'm hearing a Sunday snowstorm is forecast. I guess April will be the next 'safe' month to visit Montreal...4 months from now x(

 

Thanks for the introduction to Pascal. He (along with Alonzo at Campus) warmed my 'early' evenings considerably. I agree that Campus was the 'place' this trip, although I had one evening at Stock (with a wonderfully long dance with Mikael :p ) that was quite memorable and even though admittedly, Taboo was very quiet, I spent both Saturday and Sunday late nights (again) having a terrific time there. Between Julien, Diego and Sasha (and a couple others) I had all the companionship I required to keep me quite content and off the frozen streets of Montreal.

 

And although the 'pretty' crowd tends to hang at Unity and Sky (and Parking) I thoroughly enjoyed a Saturday night of dancing at TOOLS with the DJ hitting all the right notes (and the dance floor remaining packed a good part of the night.)

 

As always, I had an awesome time in Montreal and spent most of the flight home, looking forward to the next trip. I've been going there for 10 years now and just can't seem to tear myself away or make alternate travel plans.

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Guest zipperzone

>Although the temps were FRIGID, I feel fortunate I visited

>last weekend instead of this weekend as I'm hearing a Sunday

>snowstorm is forecast.

 

I don't understand why some guys consider a snowy Montreal to be a problem. I lived in Montreal for two years and though the snowy days and nights were the most exciting of the year. Loads of atmosphere and made it more of an adventure.

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I agree a snowy Montreal can be quite the adventure (I was

there a few years back at the END of April when a storm

dumped over a foot of snow on a Saturday night.) But to clarify,

my return travel day is usually a Monday so a late Sunday storm could

mean air travel delays/cancellations, sitting in an airport for hours,

etc. That adventure I've lived more than I care to. While vacationing in Montreal though, I actually prefer snow to sub-zero temps(Fahrenheit, that is.)

 

The city is at its most beautiful during/immediately after a

substantial snowfall...especially during the holidays!

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  • 2 weeks later...
Guest dallastexas

I'm a newbie here and this will be my first time to Montreal in two weeks.

 

Thanks to all who posted about their experiences in what sounds like a fabulous city.

 

Has anyone been to Montreal recently who could give me some names of dancers who give great private shows? I am keeping my eyes perked on Pascal and Sasha if I see them, but anyone else?

 

Also, I will be staying with friends at a hotel and cannot host if I were to find an escort. Do escort agencies accommodate to clients who needs to travel to the escorts?

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