Authors: Michael Malflic
Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?
The building looks more like a structure that should have been on a corner on Bourbon Street that someone just forgot to add the balcony to. But unlike Bourbon Street, the outside was calm and unassuming while inside the decadent underbelly of sexuality danced its pornographic little dance. Rituals and rights detailed to the ultimate end, such a stringent formal process for something so misunderstood. Tonight was a birth right, it was one of the events not to be missed it was the annual Leather Masquerade. Bodies in some cases painted to hide their nakedness or to accentuate the nudity without actually, truly being exposed. Feather masks and leather headdresses hid the faces of many of the party goers and add an element of old world European mystery to a scene that would have made Marquis de Sade proud.
Nadrea
in her black latex shined to a mirrored perfection, the boned lace up corset top drawing her waist in tightly and pushing her breasts into an opera singers dramatic cleavage, the compacted
flesh of her breasts producing a fake roundness on her upper chest typically reserved for porn stars with ungodly gravity defying implants. The music stopped and the lights froze in place as if time itself had stopped.
Nadrea
saw Vincent as he passed through the inner doors of the vestibule. Peering through her one hundred and eighty dollar purple feather and faux diamond encrusted mask she sees he was wearing his well shined black Doc Martins, painted on black leather jeans and he had checked his shirt at the door along with his coat.
Nadrea
until this point hadn’t seen his skin except for his face and forearms. His stomach was not only flat but was ridged with deep muscular creases, quadriceps rippling through the leather pants as if they were a mere extension of his skin. His arms looked large and powerful from a distance, his chest barreled and his round shoulders looked like someone had evenly split a cannon ball placing a half on each side of his upper arm. Most of the other men in the club were toned, some were even muscular but none were built like his large brooding figure.
He looked more like an All Pro linebacker planning to smash someone into the ground. “This disco use to be a cute cathedral” rang out as the evenings host explained that the building was “a den of inequity before it was cleansed to become paradise.” Here, paradise resembled a sadistic part of hell complete with its own demons
who
inflicted wickedness on the flesh and the mind of the all too willing souls present. As the DJ continued he screamed into the microphone “let the real beats begin!” And with that the music kicked back in louder and with a much different flavor as Vincent donned his simple black mask. Unlike the other parts of his wardrobe that fit into the scene his mask looked as if it was left over from his lone ranger costume when he was a kid.
Nadrea
watched from a distance as people who saw him tried to size him up. The women watched, they couldn’t tell but most were sure he was straight. At first he didn’t notice what was really going on, at first glance it was just another industrial dance
club,
Vincent thought to himself, “Ok, so they’re having a theme night. Music, smoke, lights and writhing sexuality” it was to him all pretty standard fair. As he stepped forward into the club things began to catch his eye, 12 men and 12 women alternating in gender creating two even rows of souls with their eyes to the floor kneeling with
hands tied behind their backs forming a path that had to be walked through to enter the main club area. As he stepped into the space between the first two souls the lyrics associated with the music caught his ear. “Did I disappoint you? Did I let you down? Did I stand on the shores and watch you drown?” As he entered his face was not stoic, his eyes were wild taking it all in as quickly as he could. On the stage there were men and women on display in various forms of bondage ranging from simple shackles and cuffs on the ends of the stage working
it’s
way to the exquisite Japanese style rope work in the center displaying both the front and the back on different “models”. Nope, he wasn’t in Kansas
any more
or Iowa either for that matter. As he progressed through the 24 souls slowly admiring them with a child like curiosity and taking in the other surroundings, he was greeted by a beautiful woman who looked like she was part dominatrix out of that issue of Penthouse when he was sixteen and part high end party planner. On one side was an Asian woman in what appeared to be a sea foam green latex outfit that was trimmed in black velvet around the sleeves, the skirt and the opening exposing her cleavage. On the other side
was
a submissive man and woman.
Nadrea
hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him since he entered. She knew he would come, her grin widening at the thought of the possibilities. The host greeted him “Good evening.”
“Fuck.” escaped Vincent’s mouth as what was going on around him was beginning to truly set in.
“Top or bottom?” the dominatrix asked as people in the club had begun to not only notice Vincent but to point him out to others.
“
Ummm
,
Aaaah
” Vincent uttered sounding like he looked, a stupefied dumb jock.
“Well what are you?” the hostess pressed just as Vincent was noticing that she was wearing a leather teddy and thigh high boots, although the term teddy usually implied something feminine and soft, her outfit was neither of these things as the word corset finally popped into his head.
“I’m meeting a friend, first time here” he then replied in a more coherent and somewhat more confident manner.
“
Ahh
, no wonder I didn’t recognize you, I doubted that I could have missed someone like you.” She then proceeded to go over “The Rules” as she put it. “No cameras, no pictures, no cell
phones with cameras’. If you have a phone with a camera, Mira will cover it with a band aid. Just then the Asian woman with the dyed Raggedy Ann red hair produced a band aid that matched the green in her outfit.
“No, I’m good, no phone tonight, only foreign substance in my pants is the ID and drink money.” Vincent replied starting to sound more like
himself
.
“That’s nice, love” she said without a second thought then continued on with the rules,
she came out of character ever
so slightly sounding less like an enlightened sexual being and more like the mandatory legal ease at the end of a TV commercial. “We
are pan sexual…No touching with
out permission, no exposed genitals in public areas
” Vincent
thought it was starting to sound a lot more like New Orleans. “Everyone is welcome here
” she
said and it did in fact seem to sound genuine. “Drink, dance and enjoy!”
she
said flashing a wicked smile at him. The afore mentioned Mira then spoke, her soft oriental features and skin clashed with the stupid red hair and mint green dress. She looked like something that they might have drawn in an episode of the
Jetson’s
.
“Gay, straight or bi?” she asked again. Vincent who was thinking a little less about the
Jetson
hooker episode he had just devised in his head and more about why the fuck they cared if they were pansexual. “Meeting a friend not sure what she is.” He said producing the card
Nadrea
had given him the night before “Why does it matter who I like to fuck?” he asked with and edge in his tone. Mira hearing his question “It doesn’t, but it’s also a waste of my time if you’re gay.” She said taking a leash from the female
submissives
’ hand and gave it to Vincent. “She can finish the tour and help you find your friend.”
As he followed her, which seemed somewhat backwards for the person holding the leash to do in this situation, but then again as a kid he had a dog that just ran ahead and choked itself every time they went for a walk, at least she wasn’t doing that, he thought. Pausing and realizing that there was probably someone in the club right now who would get off on that. By the time he was past the hostess, a group had backed up behind him clamoring and greeting each other with how great the night was going to be.
As Vincent started to cross the edge of the dance floor toward the bar he spotted
Nadrea
coming across towards him. “I see her.” he said handing the leash back to the woman, he wasn’t quite sure what proper etiquette was, did he have to take her back to where he got her like soccer mom renting a stroller at the mall or bring her back full like a rental car to avoid an outlandish set of charges. He smiled laughing at his own
thoughts,
even here he could amuse himself with his own twisted sense of reality. She just took the leash and headed back to the hostesses’ side. He waited as
Nadrea
got closer, “Drink?”
“Yeah, but not there asshole.”
She said. Ok, looking around all the bars
seem
equally crowded. So he just continued to head to the closest one.
Nadrea
tried to tell him not to head in that direction, but he can’t hear her over the music. She grabbed his hand. Despite
them
spending time together before and kissing for the first time just yesterday their hands had never touched except to exchange metro tickets. Breaking stride and turning towards her. “Look it’s crowded
there,
I have a private table over there with a few friends, no line, one waitress to every two tables.”
“I’m fine here” he replied mostly just to irritate her.
“Dick head!”
He laughed, at her frustration. “No thanks, I just came to dance.” And with that he took
a bottled
water from the passing waitress, flipped her one of those infamous 20’s that he tormented Deb with, gulped it down and took himself to the dance floor to join the throngs of sweaty bodies. He wasn’t there for the scene or the shock
value,
he wasn’t sure why he was there, so he decided to dance.
Nadrea
was baffled by just how aloof he was, how she couldn’t influence him. How he showed up and then ignored her, did he really think he was there to dance?
Although as she watched him, he was fairly good at it.
Nadrea
headed back to her table.
About an hour later a winded, sweaty Vincent appeared. He greeted Donna and her somewhat shell shocked Husker. He was the very kind of person that would be nervous by the raw sexuality all around him. He thought he was open minded, understanding and progressive, but in truth his tolerances were not all that far from the main stream. Perhaps last week wasn’t as wild, the music sounded the same and upon reflecting on it there were a few people
around in leather pants, he just assumed they were French tourists. The Husker sat quietly with his back to the dance floor.
“Nice of you to join us”
Nadrea
said with faked sarcasm.
“
My pleasure
.” Vincent
said as
he
slide into the over
stuffed chair behind her.
“That was my seat!” she said as she sat on the arm of the chair next to him. He ordered two more waters. The Husker added a third.
“Why don’t you two just order some warm milk before bed time?” Donna scolded, although she herself despite having been there for more than an hour was barely through her first drink, the Husker on the other hand was playing camel, he was drinking water like he was heading out into the desert. Suddenly the Husker felt a little more comfortable, there was someone else he had met and conversed with. The two talked sports, just like the first time, but updating the conversation with what they expected out of the upcoming weekends games rather than ones that had already passed. Tiffany arrived wearing what could only be described as a shiny Bavarian milk maid’s dress, and heels that were not made for dancing in except for professionals in the skin trade.
When the next round of waters arrived, the Husker continued his camel routine, drinking water as if it could not only save him from conversation, but also make him invisible. This time Vincent gulped two bottles down in less than three breaths, slid to the side of the chair
Nadrea
was on, forcing her to move as he stood up and in his worst German accent “And now we dance!”
Amusing himself with old Saturday night live skits in his head.
Taking the milk maid’s hand in one of his, and then Donnas’ hand in the other he looks at the Husker continuing on with the bad accent, “Come along now Dieter!”
Not sure of what was
happening,
the Husker replied politely, “My name is Robert.” “Never mind, Bobby” Vincent said dropping the bad accent, “no fucking sense of humor! We’re going to dance and you’re coming with us.” And as he walked towards the dance floor with ladies in hand into the center where it was the closest and the hottest, the Husker followed. Vincent danced and danced some more. He was suddenly young again, it was like the clock had been set back 20 years and the only thing that mattered was the next song and the next rhythm. Tiffany found him quite alluring and
the Husker tried to move with Donna, eventually losing some of his white bread box step awkwardness for a little genuine euphoria in his bounding steps.
Nadrea
took her chair back as the others at her table slowly snuck away to join the dancing. “I’m the queen of the club.” She thought to herself. But three songs later staring at the one remaining couple around her set of tables finally succumbed “
Ahh
, fuck it! Let’s dance.”