Queen's Quay.

My job permits me to do a lot of travel in this city, and one of the things that keeps me entertained throughout my day is to listen to the echoes of places where, in the past, I've enjoyed pleasure and sensual fun. Recently, I found myself in the Queens Quay (pronouned 'key') area of Toronto, and I realized that over the years, Aphrodite has blessed me from one end of this strip to the other.

Queen's Quay is an upscale stretch with plenty of sunshine, buff joggers, dog-walkers, tourists, and art lovers of all stripes. Garden marinas and yacht clubs share the gentle ripples of Lake Ontario with glittering condominums, arts and cultural centres, the ferry to the islands (with the city's only clothing-optional beach), and the lower tip of Chinatown. My smiling eyes enjoyed the sight of dreadlocked hippie girls on their antique bicycles alongside the Paris Hilton wannabes strutting out of Starbucks, lattes in hand. The giggling Japanese tourists quizzing the competetive figure skaters as their tired legs brought them home from the rink. The young artist who balanced her fishingtackle box of brushes and charcoal on her lap as she coyly drooled over the Bay Street dude reading the business section of the Globe and Mail on the streetcar.

As I cruised through the area on a recent, unseasonably warm afternoon, I realized that to the furthest west of Queen's Quay stood the glass condo where Caylynn lived. In one of the tiny, homogenous lofts of that building, she made elegant dinners before sucking my cock, kneeling on floor before the couch I relaxed on, idly stroking her straight blonde hair as she tasted me. I was the first man to take her ass during one of those nights, and how stunned she was to discover that she liked it. A lot.

On a an eastern part of the strip, just south of Chinatown, stands the aforementioned Korean's condo. I remember her with a shake of my head and a raised eyebrow, but she also sucked my cock as her dogs barked in the adjoining room. She splayed herself on her bed as I stroked myself while watching her slide a purple dildo into her pillowy folds until I watched her cum. She was, well, interesting.

Gorgeous Shayne and I strolled beside the yachts and through the herb gardens along the strip during her last visit here. We ferried to the islands, where we picnicked with wine and fruit while feeding gulls and making out on the sand. As dusk came while we awaited the ferry back to Queen's Quay, we were alone in a passenger's waiting cabin beside the dock. Years' worth of graffiti told the tales of the many lovers who had been there before us, and I pondered how often the largely vacant single room had been used for discrete liaisons. It was sorely tempting to withdraw my cock and guide her red, pouty lips there, and we chuckled at the idea just before a family of four had come in.

At the ampitheatre at Queen's Quay, The Grrl and I snuck vodka-spiked organic juice to enjoy during a free public screening of The Princess Bride. We snuggled as fireworks burst over the lake that night, and danced to Jamaican drummers as a passing schooner glittered the lake with a wedding reception.

And suddenly, I found myself enjoying a pleasant memory of, of all women, my ex-wife. Odd, in a way, given the time and distance, but I suppose it's nice to know that it wasn't All Bad after all.

We enjoyed a sexy party together along the lake itself one summer. I was still new to Canada, and one of my first jobs here was as a manager to a high-end adult toy store and DVD rental outlet. One of our wholesalers had thrown an evening yacht party for the owners of the various retail establishments that sold their line of vibrators and the like, and the owner of my store sent me along to represent him. It was fun, and Heidi and I enjoyed a bounty of food and drink among all of my elegantly-attired, friendly competitors as we gently cruised the lake along Queen's Quay.

With the better weather approaching, it won't be long before I'll be found biking beside the sexily dreadlocked, the upwardly mobile, the barking akitas, the latte-sipping yuppies, and the glistening lakefront again. As I pass each mental landmark, its echoes and ripples will continue to make me smile with memory as summer sweat cools my back.