Eye of the Beholder (MF, rom, bdsm, semiotics)(2/10) III. The reaction to that story, as might be expected, was intense. Among the first pieces of mail I got was from a woman who claimed to have tried out the honey-Tabasco concoction with her vibrator and found it quite arousing. I was horrified. What had I done here? For all I knew, something like that could cause a massive infection. But amongst the other mail, I also got what I had hoped for: Whew! So, um (dare I ask) are you free for the weekend? =) Be very, very hard to top that one. I really enjoyed it. Great work! The letter was from someone named "Sleeping Beauty." Intrigued, I browsed her profile in the matchmaker area. It described her as 5' 6", 120lbs, with blonde hair. A lot of the selections were blank, but she filled in some others with things like, "I like to experiment" and "I'm looking for someone with an open mind whom I can trust." I thought I could guess where she had gotten her handle, and that was a good sign that she was the sort of person I was looking for. I spent a minute or two wondering what, exactly, she meant by what she had said. It could have been construed as a proposition, but I figured she was just being facetious, especially since we didn't know a thing about each other. Better to act like that and not risk offending her if she was just joking. If I had to make friends with her before suggesting a meeting, that wasn't really a problem. I wrote back, thanking her for her comments, and jocularly suggesting that I might need her help for future inspiration. * * * I saw her online the next night. She paged me with a simple "Hi," before I got a chance to do it myself. I went into the chat area and found her sitting there. "Hey." "That was quite a story you posted." "Thanks." "Are you into BDSM?" "I don't have a lot of experience with it, frankly, but I'm working on it." "Working on it? =)" "In a manner of speaking. I've done a lot of reading but not much else." "Oh. Well, I enjoyed that story." "Thanks. I'm guessing from your handle that you're into it yourself." "Yep." "Heavily?" "What's heavily?" "Have you done stuff like that story?" "Sure. Not exactly like it, but similar." "I haven't, but I'm trying to explore it." " You said you were looking for inspiration." "I am. But I didn't mean that as a proposition, if you took it that way." "I did, but that's okay. If you sincerely want to learn, there's nothing wrong with saying so. What I don't like is people who pretend to be interested but are really just looking to pass judgment on all of it." I spent about an hour chatting with her, though the subject quickly moved on from BDSM. I didn't want to push the issue, nor did I feel like I needed to, since I had nine months to get my thesis done. A few days to gain this woman's trust wouldn't be a problem. * * * She eventually left and logged off, but I saw her again the next afternoon, again meeting her in the chat area. "I've been thinking about your need for inspiration," she said a few minutes later. "And?" "Feel like meeting for coffee?" Luckily I was online, and she couldn't see my rush of anticipation. "Sure. Where do you live?" "Santa Monica." "I live in Westwood. That's not too far away." "Do you know the place next to the Mann Bruin?" "Yeah." "That's nice and public, so neither of us will feel threatened =)." "Good idea LOL. How will I recognize you?" "I'm about 5' 6", nice build, blonde hair. I'll be wearing jeans, a black tank top, and a denim jacket. What about you?" "I'm six feet, kind of thin, brown hair. I'm wearing a blue button- down shirt." "When do you want to do it?" "Now?" "LOL, okay. It will take me about fifteen minutes to get there." "I'll just walk over and wait. That way you can just keep going if you see me first and find me disgusting." "LOL, I'd never do that. I'll see you in a few." * * * I lived two blocks from UCLA with a friend of mine, a guy I had met through my fraternity. We were both Sig Eps, but I had been undergraduate at UC Berkeley while he was at UCLA. When I came down here to start grad school, I asked around and someone had introduced us. My roommate's name was Ted, and he was an Asian guy who was getting his Ph.D. in Linguistics. Since we were both quiet, studious types, we had gotten along pretty well so far. I walked up the street into Westwood Village. I found the coffee shop, feeling like I was fifteen and on a first date. I kept telling myself that this was just for my thesis, but that line was beginning to ring hollow. I hadn't picked the subject just because it seemed intellectually intriguing. I didn't see anyone who matched her description sitting there, so I got a table inside and waited. For ten minutes, I watched every woman who even walked past the place. I saw one girl who might have fit the bill, but she didn't even slow down as she walked past. I got a cup of coffee, still watching the door. Nothing. I wondered if she were standing me up. It had now been about twenty- five minutes since I had talked to her. Then I saw a blonde-haired girl approaching the shop. She walked straight to the door, opened it, and began glancing around. Two seconds later, our eyes met. She was about 5' 6", as she had said, and definitely cute. She had a sort of exotic, fine-featured cast to her face and either blue or green eyes--I couldn't quite tell from the lighting. Her hair was medium blonde and very long, almost down to the middle of her back. She walked up to the table, smiling. "Hi." "Hi." "I never thought to ask your name." "Danny." "I'm Danielle." "Interesting." "Yeah." As she sat down, I noticed she wore about six or eight silver rings on her fingers--and a silver stud through her left nostril. Then I noticed the six or seven earrings she wore on the same side. After that, I wasn't too surprised to see the stud in her tongue. Jesus, she had a lot of jewelry on. I wondered if she had more I couldn't necessarily see. "I'm sorry I'm late. There was more traffic than I expected." "It's okay. I've just been drinking my coffee." "Mind if I get some?" "Go ahead." She got up, and I tried not to leer. Her legs were not long, but her behind was very nice. After getting an espresso, she came back to the table and sat down. "You're nothing like what I imagined," she said. I laughed. "What did you imagine?" "Something a little less clean-cut. I kind of pictured you with a goat." Confused images of bestiality spun through my head. "A what?" "A goatee." "Oh. Sorry. Is that bad?" "No. Because I know more about you than what I might have guessed if we met on the street." "I wasn't sure what to imagine you as." "What did you think?" "Well, I browsed your profile. I guess you're not too far from what I imagined." She smiled. "I keep thinking about that story of yours. What got me about it is that the girl you described sounded so much like me." I glanced over her again, realizing she was right, even down to the eye color: green as I now could see. "Yeah. Wow. Weirdness." "Really. So I definitely got into it." "Someone wrote me saying they had tried out the honey-Tabasco mixture." She laughed again. "Where the hell did you come up with that one?" "I don't know. I was trying to think of some kind of concoction that would cause a burning sensation." "It might work. I'm intrigued now." "I won't embarrass myself by offering to help." She grinned, tossing her hair back. "You know, I have a hard time believing you don't have any experience with BDSM, given that story." "Well, I haven't acted out any of it, but I'm doing my Master's thesis on BDSM erotica." She leaned back, impressed. "Wow. Are you really?" "Yeah." "What have you read?" "I'm starting out with 'the classics' I'd guess you'd call them, de Sade, Sacher-Masoch, 'The Story of "O,"' that sort of stuff, plus the Anne Rice books. But there's so much more out there than I anticipated." She nodded. "Yeah, there is. I could recommend some stuff if you want." "That would be a big help." "I'll make you a list and e-mail it." "Thanks. But I'm also trying to do some fieldwork in the subject." She grinned, and her eyebrows went up. "Fieldwork?" "Not like that exactly. I don't know anybody who is into BDSM, so I'm trying to find a way into the subculture so I can really understand it. You can't get a complete understanding from just reading books, even if the books are the center of my thesis." Understanding spread over her face as she realized what I was saying. "And that's where I come in?" "I don't mean it that clinically. I do want to get to know you. But I also want to get to know BDSM." "Okay." "But, just to be clear, I'm not proposing that we run off to some dungeon this afternoon." She laughed. "Don't worry about that. It's not something I would just up and do. You have to get a long way into a relationship before you trust someone enough for that." "I know. I understand that much. I just want to be clear that I'm not trying to conceal some attempt to get you into bed under false academic pretenses." "So your interest in me is purely academic?" I squirmed for a moment. "Uh, I didn't mean it that way." She laughed again. "Okay. This intrigues me. But the first thing you have to do is lighten up. BDSM is really just about sex, fun, kinky sex, but still sex. Don't get so serious about it or you aren't going to get it." I grinned. "Get sex or get BDSM?" She returned the smile. "Either." "Gotcha." "Okay. So, fire away. What do you want to ask me?" "Well, I don't want this to be a formal interview. Why don't you just tell me what you're into. You mentioned about needing to trust someone first." "Yeah. I am kinky, but that doesn't mean I want to get raped. I like submission, but I can't do it if it's not someone I trust. Without the trust, I can't let go enough to get into my fantasy." "You're not a dominatrix, or whatever it's called?" "'Dominant' is really the better term, but no. I mean, I've done that a few times, just to play around, but it does nothing for me. It's too much work. See, that's one thing that straights, people who aren't kinky, don't really understand. The power issues are so much more complex than they appear on the surface. The 'dominant' person isn't necessarily the one who's in charge. There are a lot of women who do that professionally, dominate men for money. It's not prostitution, because sex is rarely involved, but the man is paying for it. Who do you think is really calling the shots?" "Hard to say. All depends on how you look at it, I guess." "Yeah. And even though I really get off on being submissive, I could never do it with a someone who thought they were taking complete control, who thought they could do whatever they wanted with me. That's not what it's about. It's about knowing your limits and exploring them, not a complete surrender. If I can't trust that they'll stop when I give them my safe word, I can't get into the fantasy in the first place." "That makes sense." "I mean, to put things in perspective, I've occasionally slept with men I've just met, but I could never get kinky with someone like that. If I've let the person tie me up very securely, all I have is my safe word to get me loose. Suppose I do that and they say no? I've just set myself up to get raped. If there's even a slight concern about that in my mind, I won't even get started." Something in what she said clicked in my head. "I notice that your descriptions seem to be gender-neutral." She smiled. "You're observant." "You've been submissive with men and women?" "Sure. A lot of submissives are bisexual. Don't ask me why." * * * It went on like that for at least an hour. We got a second round of coffee--always a good sign in a coffeeshop date--before she had to go. "Um, I might be reaching here, but are you doing anything tonight?" She smiled. "Maybe. What do you have in mind?" "I don't know. I just thought we could hang out somewhere. Wherever it is you like to hang out." "Have you ever heard of Club Fuck?" "No. Is it a fetish club?" "Yes. Just the place you ought to go if you're sincerely interested in BDSM. I was going with one of my friends tonight. We could meet there." I couldn't help grinning. "Um, should we consider this a date or a study session?" "What do you want?" "I'd rather it be a date. A date on which I can learn something, but still a date." She smiled again. "Okay. A date it is." "So where is this place?" She drew me a map on a napkin. "I suppose it's safe to assume you don't have any fetish outfits." "No." "Do you have anything black? Like black slacks and a black shirt? Because if you show up like you are now, they'll never let you in." "I have some black slacks." "You should go get a shirt to go with it. Silk or rayon, something slinky, you know?" "I almost feel like I should ask your help with this. I'm afraid I would screw things up on my own." She laughed and glanced at her watch. "Okay. I'm supposed to meet a friend of mine at four, but fuck it. She can wait. But let's be quick about this." She led me out of the coffeeshop and down the street to a nearby clothing store. We browsed for a few minutes before finding a black silk shirt I liked. I bought it, and she prepared to take off. "Meet us out front, say around ten?" "Okay. See you then." "Not going to chicken out on me, are you?" "No. My intentions are genuine." "Cool. See ya." She gave me a final smile and walked off.