We should have known that a bunch of hot horny people would be coming over to the Speakeasy on New Year’s Eve — even though we had nothing scheduled. After all, there are very few other places (if any) where folks can express their bacchanalian side in such a friendly, artsy, anti-Bush environment. But we were so unprepared, we didn’t even have a charged video camera on hand to shoot all this gorgeous erotic madness for posterity, though Scott and Lydia were taking stills all night that should be available for your viewing pleasure at some point *soon.* We also had a lot of delicious delectables, thanks to Gene, Xtian, Julie and, of course, Kim, and excellent libations thanks to Agavero, Absente, Rhum Barbancourt, Magellan Gin, Pisco Queirolo and Nude Beer. Though folks were eating and drinking each other rather more than the food and beverages.

It’s still Hannukkah, Chanuka, or as I like to say “Ha-nookie,” so about an hour before midnight, we lit the candles, right on the bar. It was the seventh night, and the menorah really lit up the place. Maybe I’m just sentimental, but a near-fully lit Hanuka menorah is an inspirational sight to behold, a Festival of Lights indeed, even (or perhaps especially) on a bar. Since there were mostly gentiles there, before I said the blessing and lit the candles, I told the story of the “miracle” of the temple light that lasted eight days when it only had enough oil to last one. Then I explained our family candle-racing tradition wherein each person gets a candle and the one whose candle stays lit the longest wins all the “gelt” (Hebrew for “money,” or in this case, chocolate). So everybody picked a candle, and the Speakeasy turned into a Sports Bar for a while, as everyone cheered and bemoaned the progress of their candles. Finally, Scott’s candle won, which was only fitting, since he’s had to endure Hannuka candle races all week, and this was his first victory. Not all Jews have the candle-racing tradition, but many do gamble over playing dreidel. It’s often said that Jews are People of the Book. But Hanukka makes me feel like we’re also People of the Bookies (in a good way).

After the candle races, the dancing got dirtier, and we turned on the TV to watch Mariah Carey lip-sync and Ryan Sechrest act like Dick Clark. Then Dick Clark, Old Father Timeless Himself, appeared like a “miracle” for the countdown, and they did it like they can’t do it anywhere but in Times Square, New York, New York. Then we all kissed and the kissing gave way to making out, and then the stripping and screwing got seriously underway.

The title of “New Year’s Stud of the Speakeasy” goes to porn star Joe Stinger who managed to have some kind of sex with at least five different women, including Angela and Kate, two of the Institute’s new sex therapists, while his adorable little dog Lucky made humping movements next to the bed, only to be distracted by the irresistible aroma of Gene’s banana crème pie.

As for your darling bloggamist here, I engaged in much dirty dancing and even dirtier outercourse, and by evening’s end, I was “making the beast with two backs” with my Honey, ringing in the New Year with an even pair of nice big orgasms.

Speaking of which, if you haven’t had your New Year’s orgasm yet, do it tonight! No excuses. Make love to someone you love tonight, even if that someone is you.

I love you, my darling partner-in-bloggamy. Happy New Year! Bonne Année! Peace on Earth. Pleasure for All. Impeachment in 2006! At least, we can try….