Presenting an assembly-line floorfiller from the early ’90s heyday of Bitch-Can’t-Sing Italo House that became a dance chart Number 1 smash and a gay club staple thanks to its perfectly-balanced piecemeal design: typically ace production by super producer Gianfranco Bortolotti, some seriously ballsy sampling, a pulsating bass line worthy of Bomb The Bass, hilariously inept lip-synching, then-innovative video effects, and an unintelligible chorus ranking up there with Manfred Mann‘s “Blinded By The Light” — interpreted as anything and everything from “Peter Pan had a plan!” to “Take a perv at my pants!”

I always thought it was interesting that the French language has a masculine and feminine distinction for nouns. For certain words it’s fairly intuitive, but how do you designate the gender of, say, an object like a spoon or a book shelf that doesn’t trigger an immediate phallic or vaginal association?

Having never been a gender reductivist — as a child I loathed the tendency for certain elementary school teachers to nip in the bud anything they perceived as tomboyish or sissy in kids — I can’t fathom the infantile idea of relating everything we do back to our genitals. The hottest women to me have a hint of cliche “male” qualities to them like husky voices or thick eyebrows, and some of the sexiest men have a little lady in their cheekbones or hands. Even my own face is a conglomeration of masculine and feminine traits; I have the broad forehead and nose usually associated with men, but then I have long eyelashes and full lips that play more girlie. Androgyny is more than just a physical state — it’s also a mindset or an aura.

So, if you’re fixated on biological absolutism, then even food has a butch/femme dichotomy.

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Junior hunk Lane says he never closes his shower curtain at the gym. He loves when men watch him soap up after his daily muscle-popping workout. So getting wet and jacking off in our Fratmen Theater was the next natural step.

Lane’s hypnotic blue eyes, throbbing cock and perfect ass would turn me into his locker room puppy dog, trying to time the end of my workout for extra viewing time. Lane looks fucking amazing dry too. He admits he gets dressed very slowly if someone is watching. Diagnosis: Lane is an exhibitionist. Treatment: see Lane now in the Inner Circle.