Stencil Art depicting a man and a Woman dancing together, he is telling her that she's on his toe

February 20, 1987 – The Party

LGBTQ, Writing

Warning: This post contains sexual content.

A friend invites me to an S&M Party.

I’m not into S&M but agree to go.

We stand on a dark ally in front of a shiny black
door bathed in the golden light of a Victorian street
light.

A plaque on the door reads, if you didn’t call don’t knock.

The setting is so theatrically dark and mysterious I have to laugh

Mark knocks twice, then three more times: the door swings open,
and we enter a cavernous dungeon.

It’s a party of mostly middle-aged men and women.

Some of the women wear elegant nipple clamps or strap on dildos.

I follow the sound of a pop and find another huge room.

A man dressed in leather chaps teases the nipples of a woman,
blindfolded and lashed to a cross.

Next to them two nude women: one bent over a massage table, the
other holds a paddle.

“Do you like it?”

‘Yes Mistress.”

Pop!

“Do you want more?”

“Yes Mistress.”

Pop!

Next to them a woman in nipple revealing latex and a
guy with a throbbing erection; he’s strapped to a gurney.

“Mommy loves Boy!”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Slap.

“But Boy is bad!”

“Yes, Mommy”

Kiss.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

Slap.

I part the sheer curtains that divide the playrooms from a patio.

On the patio a dozen leather clad men and women sit around a
lawn table passing a fat joint.

A nude man on leash and collar places his hands on his hips
and laughs:

“You tops,” he says, “You have to wear so many clothes!”

I get the joint, and take a deep hit.

Back in the playroom the woman on the cross squirms with pleasure
while Mommy tickles Boy’s balls.

(c) Rob Goldstein 1987-2018



12 thoughts on “February 20, 1987 – The Party”

  1. This is a subject I don’t read much about in the blog world, Rob. I was there with you, every step of the way. Reminded me a little of a trip I once made to Amsterdam, but that’s another story.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I have to agree. I had a similar reaction when a date took me to a similar (though much less extreme) club (I didn’t know anything about the place so it was a bit of a surprise, but that was all).
        But the idea of being helpless, for any reason, is horrifying. If people have trust in the situation/people, I guess they don’t feel helpless. My trusting days are long gone.

        Liked by 1 person

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