I ventured out last weekend to an obscure kind of fetish-bar. It’s not something that I’d usually do, but I was feeling cold and needed a flame lit from within.
‘Two Peas’ it was called, just on the outskirts of a somewhat deserted town.
Men danced in red pods, baiting women for a ride. No-one bought a ticket.
We studied each other in silence, the women and I – all dressed in lime-green strings, with black lace wrapped around our throats and mouths.
Nothing to be said.
If a member bought a ticket, they would slowly peel back our baby-green string to reveal the pink flesh that nestled underneath, and then strap us up in red rope.
After a couple of risky decisions, I left the club and marched into an Uber.
Payday was pittance and late, again, so I was dropped on the corner of Princess Street instead of home.
Too intoxicated by the night, I stumbled towards the nearest house, named Manderley Mansion.
A scruffy gentleman in Adidas sportswear opened the door, cradling a can of Stella to his heart. He licked his lips and began to utter something disinviting… That’s when his mother appeared at his side, hugging his waist, drawing him backwards.
She wore a body-fitting pink nightgown, with her hair in rollers and fresh lipstick upon her cupid’s bow. Coral red.
Her hand led me inwards, strangling all circulation to my hand. Her eyes were painted black with the faintest flicker of gold.
She demanded that her husband should make me a bed, blown up by his tobacco-fuelled lungs. It was like lying on the air above a summer barbeque. I lay down, sweating, grilled.
Another mattress followed, pumped up by the Adidas sponsor, swelling up from downwards repetitive kicks. The room shook.
As I lay down, it deflated, and suffocated my fragile body.
Mother ran in, breathed into the stuffy old airbeds and stroked my face. A single tear fell from her own and onto my cheeks, then froze and splintered off. Her £40 foundation remained flawless.
I stumbled from my eerie slumber to find blankets, the heavier the better. I needed something dense to provide the comfort that I craved.
I cocooned myself within the quilts, begging for sleep, eternal and bliss. Still, there was a constant stabbing pain that would not diminish.
Defeated, I rested. And then awoke to fine Adidas next to me, his prick protruding into my back.
I packed up and shit and carried my baggage with me, back to ‘Two Peas’, and bought the next ticket to ride a ride.
With the lace still clamping my mouth shut, I peeled back my string and glowed. Pop. Laid down, and dreamed.