And The First Mr. Paddles Is...
The judges Jed Ryan, Lady Clover Honey, and myself. And the winner, Rob Ordonez.
Last week's pageant to crown Mr. Paddles at the Chelsea kink club--down some metallic stairs and past some serious coat checking--wasn't quite as gala as I'd hoped.
There were only two contestants.
What's more, the MC spoke softly over the music (which, strangely, wasn't turned off) and didn't know one of the three judges' names.
But the show went on, with two contestants sporting leather wear (Nasty Pig is popular with this crowd) and gamely answering questions about their sex life.
Both admitted to having sex in public places and in cars. ("Maybe you did it with each other," I wryly noted.)
When the runner-up said he doesn't like to be paddled, I thought that would make him a weird Mr. Paddles, but I recused myself from the voting because I happen to know the other contestant, Rob Ordonez.
And he won.
Give him a fist, I mean hand.
Photo by Geary Marcello
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