Black and Blue

She wore her lovely corset, a slinky skirt and some funky high heeled pumps. I was dressed (or not dressed) in a latex pouch, my high lace-up Doc Martens, and an elaborate shibari harness done with thin black cord. Of course, I was accessorized with a collar and leash, and some black leather wrist cuffs, just in case she felt like securing me to something.

All in all, to get ready for the Black and Blue Ball involved a solid two hours preparation time. Being kinky is a lot of work.

I slid on a pair of loose denim shorts, and threw on a t-shirt, all in the sake of decency and warmth. Even though I was going to wear a long coat, I had to put on something, just in case we bumped into a cop on the street on our way to a cab. The last thing I need is getting a summons for being a flasher.

When we hit the streets, and the wind blew my coat, I did feel pretty silly. The high boots and the shorts looked odd, to say the least, but there was no way I could negotiate pants over the damn boots. I have no idea what I'm going to do when it gets hot. I don't know what will look more odd: a guy wearing a long coat on a hot night, or a guy walking around in his pervy-best. At least last night I didn't have to worry about it yet. In spite of it supposedly being Spring, it was almost chilly. Then again, I suppose the fact that I was barely dressed had something to do with that.

Now ordinarily when Conny and I go out to a "scene" event, with one recent exception, I'm dressed sort of conservatively, at least for a kinkster. Yeah, I've got my shiny PVC pants, and various tight and/or sheer shirts, but as far as outfits go, those are fairly tame. I do think I look good in them and I'm totally comfortable dressed that way. But it's a totally safe look, just one small step away from just being dressed all in black, which is kind of the baseline. Since the Black and Blue Ball is a special, annual event, I figure I should push a little bit. Do something special.

Now, I'm a very fair skinned guy, about as white as they come. Conny thought she was fair skinned until she met me. I look like someone who just got unearthed after being buried for a few months. So I thought a shibari harness done with black rope would look fairly dramatic. I couldn't think of a better "top" to go with my little pouch thing. At least it seemed like a good idea in the apartment.

When we got there, and pushed our way to the coat check area, I started getting a little nervous. I felt very underdressed. Lots of people were in their fetish finest, but somewhat more formal fetish finery, if you can picture that. I saw a few gents in funky, vintage style tuxedos even. But no where did I see much skin visible.

Gulp. Well, no guts, no glory.

We checked the coats, and I stripped down to my outfit. In the coat check area, I was made a little more comfortable by other people shedding street clothing for skimpier outfits. Though, it was all women who were doing this.

Gulp again. Well, skin is skin, right? Equal opportunities and all that.

As we emerged from the coat check room and tried to find a bar, I noticed two things right away. The Limelight is huge, and tonight,the Limelight is cold. Well, hopefully it'll warm up as the night goes on.

We got our drinks, and tried to take in the crowd a bit. There were a lot of people there. As J said later, "Lots of eye candy." It was like Gomorrah times 10, maybe 20. We were enjoying the view from an edge of the main dance floor, and trying to manage the balance between sipping our drinks and conserving precious body heat when a very conspicious threesome walked by us. The young gentleman with a young lady friend, and clearly a tag-a-long friend of the gentleman's companion found a spot not far from Conny and I. If discomfort has an odor, the two women would have reeked. The whole group was attired in typical young person evening out clothes. So much for the strict dress code. The only one expressing interest in the proceedings was the guy, who seemed oblivious to the plight of his two lady friends. I could imagine the conversation that took place earlier in the evening.

"Hey, sugar, I got us some tickets to a cool dance party." he says.
"Yeah?" she says, snapping her gum, "Cool! Where is it?"
"It's that cool club, the Limelight."
"Great! My friend has always wanted to go there, can she tag a long." she asks.
"Sure thing, babe." he pauses. "Y'know, tonight is sorta a theme night."
"Oh? What's the theme?" she says.
"Oh, wild clothing, people in crazy outfits, lots of stuff like that."
She pauses. "This isn't some weird sex thing like last time, is it?"

Like the saying goes, easier to get forgiveness than permission. At least he was having a good time.

I started to relax, as I saw a wider variety of attire. I think the key for me is taking pride in being as "out there" as I can for the pleasure of the woman who has me collared. It's a very powerful thing to be able to be proud of looking silly. I guess there's a fine line between looking sexy and looking silly, really, and it has nothing to do with the clothing. It's a state of mind thing. And alcohol can help with that.

We spotted a few people we are familiar with, but most of the faces I didn't recognize. The Black and Blue Ball seemed to be more a fetish scene than an SM scene. While there is often an overlap between the two, I'm more in the SM camp, as is Conny. Between the crowd, the size of the space, and the bone-chilling cold, things just weren't working for us.

We hoped we'd start feeling some energy when the performances started. First we were treated to a woman dressed as a nun, stripping naked to the song (wait for it) "Sister Christian", made more ironic by the location (the Limelight was a church.) Then a woman in scary black and white clown make up, including blinking red nose, and Marilyn Monroe "Seven Year Itch" dress sang a song called "It Hurts When the Mean People Love You". She sang the song while tearing apart cheap Barbie dolls and throwing the pieces out to the audience. Then she took out a stage knife and began cutting her arms and hands with the prequisite fake blood. The finale involved a fan, strategically placed so as to make the purpose of the Marilyn Monroe dress clear. However, unlike Marilyn, this woman has nothing on undeneath. And sure enough, that fake blood covered knife found it's way to the obvious location. Now that's entertainment.

It still was cold. Damn. We distracted ourselves with a short game of find the bathroom, in which Conny got to play two bonus games: wait for a toilet, and guess what's going on in the stall. The men's room, sad to say, had no such bonus games. Sexism, I tell you.

We milled around a bit, but as it got later, the place got even more crowded. While I waited at the bar to get us refills, Conny tried to take some weight of her feet and had a seat. In the not-so-short time it took me to get us another drink, she managed to have one woman offer to massage her feet, as well as practically sit on her lap, and she met a man in a diaper who introduced himself as "Stinkypants". Stinkypants, she told me, was very nice, and blessedly, not yet stinky.

We were treated to two fetish fashion shows. One was done by the Baroness, and was done in her usual, subdued but theatrical style. Some of the pieces were great, and very colorful. The next one was done by, well, actually, I dont remember, sad to say. It was a lot more lively, with jugglers, and a girl spinning flaming batons, and a guy swinging these flaming balls around to music. Not only did it look pretty impressive, but I was greatful for any warming combustion taking place. I was secretly hoping they might set something larger on fire, but no dice.

At this point, we were both beginning to realize that the night just wasn't working for us. Everything was just a bit too uncomfortable. Too cold, too big, too crowded. Don't get me wrong, tons of people were having a great time, it just wasn't our scene. Not that night, anyway. In one last attempt to mingle, I suggested we head to a lounge I discovered during "Find the Bathroom" that I recalled as being warm. It was upstairs, and as we ascended, we could hear the encouraging sound of "smack! smack!"

Of course, who should I find on the receiving end of the smack smack but our good friend J. Damn that man knows how to find a spanking in any venue. He had just gotten there a little while before, and I was impressed at how fast he works. Now here you have a guy in a stunning latex outfit, covered up from neck to toe, and that stuff is warm. And he's in the warmest room in the place. He's even sweating. Then you have me, a guy wearing little more than a rubber jock, hanging out for most of the night in the coldest part of the club. Like I said, J knows how to work it.

J had gone to the Miss Fetish NYC event at Gomorrah, and said it was a pretty good night. Damn. Looks like we picked the wrong horse, at least for us. J told us about a couple other parties and events going on over the weekend at more familiar places, and it's tempting to make another go at a fun night out. After chatting for a bit, we reluctantly said good night to J and called it a night. I'm sure things got even more lively after we left, but at least we made dinner plans with J so we can found out what we missed.

Never in my life have I been so grateful to get my coat. Sweet warmth at last!

I think the lady and I will stick to smaller venues for the time being. I'm glad we went, and it sure was an experience. Even though we got home a little before 2AM, which isn't that awful for a work night, we managed to stay up until close to 4AM. That's the danger of discussing fantasies in bed. First you say 'em, then ya do 'em.

This morning, though, it felt like the snooze delay on my alarm clock was 1 minute long. Ugh.
posted 12:12 PM | link |