Young writer Gryphon Tott is taking the subway one moment and finds himself transported to a mysterious room the next. The room is a not-uncomfortably appointed den, actually. Tott soon finds himself in the presence of Quentin Crisp, Tennessee Williams, Oscar Wilde and Truman Capote. It soon becomes apparent to Tott that he, like they, is now dead, and now located in a literary lounge of the afterlife. (It can't be reasonably be Hell: There are regular cocktail hours and an unlimited supply of libations.) These are writers, after all. The dead are not done.
Tott receives assurances from his new acquaintances, all of them celebrated gay writers, that although he departed Earth prematurely, in the afterlife he is renowned as a gay literary icon. Well, all right, but one thing still puzzles Gryphon: To the best of his own knowledge, he has been and is a heterosexual. How did he wind up here?