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Watching Through The Keyhole

We called it “The Apartment”. It was somewhere near St. Marks and Avenue A back when the East Village was just rubbing against B and scared shitless to go anywhere near Avenue C. There were two girls and a somewhat straight couple living there but on a good weekend all those were subject to change.

It was a Friday night and a bunch of us were drinking in the living room and trying to figure out what to do for the…