When I first moved to West Hollywod, I expected to see (and meet, and date) celebrities all the time. But during my first two months, I saw only four., and only met (and sort of dated) one.
So when my friend Marcus invited me to a Labor Day pool party hosted by his film-producer housemate, visions of celebrity beefcake filled my head.
Sylvester Stallone and Lou Ferrigno sunbathe nude.
Harrison Ford in a speedo dives into the pool and splashes Steve Gutenberg.
Mel Gibson struts about in his bulgeworthy Mad Max leather chaps.
Besides I heard about West Hollywood parties, where the games involve penis size contests and the evening ends in the bedroom, with couples bringing in a third to "share." Maybe me and Harrison Ford and Steve Guttenberg!
Marcus' house was in the Hollywood Hills, only a few miles from my apartment in West Hollywood, but through a maze of narrow, curvy roads named after Greek gods: Hercules, Zeus, Venus, Achilles.
On the way up Laurel Canyon Boulevard, the car behind me decided that I was going too slow, and zoomed around. As it passed, I got a glimpse of the swishy queen in the passenger seat sneering at me.
It was Robin Williams!
The full story, with nude photos and explicit sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.