I walk by there as I leave her
23rd St. apartment again. I feel
unfulfilled, as she and I have an
awkward relationship. I wonder about my
motives (or lack thereof). She leaves me
unsatisfied, and I feel
discontent at my
inability to put my
finger on what it is that
bothers me.
The place next to her apartment
catches my eye again.
La Maison de Sade is its name. I have seen it on many occasions, not really questioning what it is. However
tonight was different. The door
bangs open as I walk by, and this
man, probably in his late 20s is crawling out
on his hands and knees. Around his neck is a
dog collar, with a
leash attached to it. The leash follows him out the door, leading a
buxom girl wearing
leather and
chains. She takes him to the
hydrant right outside the door and orders him to "
go." He
barks and dutifully
lifts his
leg to the hydrant. All this occurs in front of my eyes as a
cluster of
drunk people cheer the
man-dog on. They all
return to
La Maison de Sade and the
sidewalk is once again
silent.
It's two days later, and I've had another
unsatisfying night at her place on 23
rd. This time, the
S+M bar seems to have
new life. I can hear the
excitement bubbling from within. The
anger rises within me.
How dare they enjoy themselves while I'm living this shitty life? Why do they get to have fun?
I
picture them inside. Those
men paying for
drinks and
punishment. The
leather-clad women chaining the guys to the
wall,
whipping them with
leather. I picture
leather gloved hands
slapping them in the
face. I see the
excitement and
sweat in their faces. I feel an
urge within me to go in
there and get
hurt. But no,
I cannot. I can't
escape from my
life by entering this place. The
rage inside
churns with a
vengeance.
As I turn to
storm away from this place, the door bangs open
again.
There she is. The
dominatrix. I know my
anodyne.
I can't take it anymore. I am
hell-bent for leather.