Gay rodeo: Lust in the dust


Turning off the freeway near a small town in the desert, we followed the female voice of the GPS, over the railroad tracks and down a dirt road heading into the mountains. We parked at the base of a hill in an unpaved lot with pickup trucks and horse trailers, not sure exactly what we would find at the top, where dust was rising against the stark blue sky.

My partner turned to look at me excitedly. Then I heard it — the distant thunka-thunka of a gay club that meant everything would be just fine.

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