So I’ve been a very faithless correspondent here the last few weeks. Where “few weeks” is almost exactly two months. Two months. I have not posted in two fewking months. Or talked to anyone, or been very good about getting back to people about fetish stuff. Short notes…”I’ll be back around in mid-October…”
Excuses…Uhm…I was redeployed to Mars?
So seriously, I was on the road nearly solid for a while there, and then the last two weeks have been a huge home project aimed at bringing the other big component of my life, my drama activities, into line. I’ve been acting as a props storage dump for the past ten years, and with my mother’s death, things finally got out of hand. Theatrical props overran the house. Not just small props but big chunks of sets, walls, etc. The place became choked with furniture and unlivable. The solution was to take the cellar which was frankly an underutilized trashpile, and build rack shelving for 144 Rubbermaid storage tubs and assorted other things. But in the long run this was a huge project, and it’s absorbed all my time and energy.
I’ve also been working towards my final estate transaction, in which I lose over $100k. Now wait for it. That’s the good part and I count myself happy about it, because in the current realty market, that’s pretty good. Cash has been tight, and that keeps me busy. Not a lot of luxury time. Never has a man been happier to have a disastrously bad transaction occur.
Still it’s been a while since I’ve written. Where a while is approximately one sixth of a year. I have a vanity as an author, I don’t like to write until I have something good to say, and apparently I’m not brilliant enough to have something good to say twice a week. Or in two months.
So we return with a funny story. It may be lame, but at least I’m typing.
Recently went to the Crucible with M. Wasn’t a big trip or anything, we had a weekend date, and found there was an open club night decided to go. Her apartment is not ideal for play, and we were staying home for budgetary reasons dealing with the aforementioned real-estate transaction, so it was a chance to mess with equipment a bit on an off night.
The club as empty. I don’t mean “well it was a light night.” I mean it was us and the staff. And they outnumbered us.
Eventually I think two other couples were there. One couple was a solitaire who was waiting for her partner, so there was a loooonnnngggg….period when it was just us and about three to four people who were on staff.
Positive side. They were mostly people I knew at least to talk to and are great people. Negative side. They were mostly people I knew at least to talk to.
You wouldn’t think so, but it’s kind of daunting to do a scene in the middle of a warehouse-sized open space with about five people who are basically working, and who you vaguely know.
I wanna stress that the staff was great, that’s why this is funny not disastrous. They were cool, encouraging, and nonchalant. But…it’s still just plain weird to have an entire sex club the size of a decent-sized High School Gym pretty much to yourself. To be one of the only four people in DC who decided to be kinky that night.
That’s not normal, Likely other stuff drawing people off, and Saturday was expected to be big, there were already preparations underway for the crowd. Didn’t look at the calendar to see what else was up, but I know there was “stuff.”
So…normally it’s “what equipment can we get.”
But suddenly it’s like “well, of all the equipment in the club, what do we feel comfortable using in a large open space.” It’s a wet dream for an extreme humiliation player or an intense exhibitionist. “Just so you know, we are absolutely the ONLY THING to watch here, other than the clock, so let’s stand here in the middle of this big open basketball court space…” No pressure.
It was just funny. Because of course there was no reason to have sudden performance anxiety. And in the long run, we didn’t. We played around downstairs, did some training routines, went upstairs, generally made use of the place. But…there was just this kind of niggling feeling of…it being weird. I think it’s sort of like rehearsing a play. It’s fine to be doing the play in front of a packed house. And it’s fine to be doing it in front of your Director and crew. But doing it in front of six or seven people who you kind of know and are there doing other work…is just kind of weird. Like smoking when nobody else is, or drinking when nobody else is and it isn’t your tab.
“Scuse me, mind if I’m violently kinky…”
I once knew a guy who had a response to “do you mind if I smoke…it makes me more comfortable.” His response was to start unzipping his fly and say “not at all…do you mind if I jerk off…I find it makes me more comfortable…”
No matter how kinky we think we are, we have some social wiring that says “uhm…dude…what the fuck…”
In the long run it was actually a nice low-key night and the staff folks were great and courteous and friendly as always.
To make things weirder, a very normal looking guy…not at all fetish, showed up and was looking around. He wasn’t your standard club gawker…the sort who stares your scene and maybe decides to masturbate (hey, be fair, you’re playing in public…you’re there to entertain if somebody chooses to whack off). Though at the risk of digressing, the guy at Power Exchange in San Francisco who got obtrusively close to a scene with S. and began making rather loud “cock-a-doodle-doo” noises may have been kind of over the top.
But this guy was fine. He was pretty normal seeming, and looked a little out of place, kept a respectful distance. Once I realized he wasn’t with anybody and wasn’t setting up stuff for tomorrow night, I tried to put on a bit of a show for him. Honestly it was kind of fun.
He’d actually already gotten disappointed (any other night dude, I have NEVER seen the place that dead, even on a Friday…just coincidence), and was heading out, but couldn’t seem to get a cab to find the place. He was from out of town, and was kinda disappointed as he’d wanted to see a real live sex/fetish club. I was glad we’d performed a little. We gave him a ride back to Navy Yard as he seemed harmless enough.
So, the next time I’m at Crucible on a Saturday and trying hard not to curse under my breath because the only toy I can find open is that one ubiquitous spanking bench that there are like seventy of and is always the one thing you can find open…I’ll remember the most recent trip and….be glad that there are a few other people to blend with. There is safety and anonymity in numbers.