Eye of the Beholder (MF, rom, bdsm, semiotics)(3/10)
IV.

I returned to my apartment and found Ted watching television.

"What's up?  Where'd you go?"

"I got a date tonight."

"With who?"

"Some chick I met on this BBS."

"Seriously?  Have you even met her yet?"

"We had coffee this afternoon.  We're going to go out again tonight."

"Huh.  Hot or not?"

"Hot.  About 5' 6", long blonde hair."

His eyebrows went up slightly.

"You met a girl like that on a computer?"

"Yeah.  And guess where we're going."

"Where?"

"This place called Club Fuck."

He laughed.

"Club Fuck?"

"Yeah.  Heard of it?"

"No.  What is it, some sex club?"

"I'm not sure.  I think it's more of an S&M-themed nightclub.  Everyone 
dresses up for it apparently."

"You're going to dress up like that?"

"Not really.  Just this."

I showed him the shirt.

"Damn.  Maybe I should start BBSing."

* * *

Ted and I walked over to the Village for dinner at Burger King, then 
drifted down the street to our usual bar.  We met some students we knew 
and hung with them for about an hour, but I left to get ready about 
nine.

I found Club Fuck on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood.  The 
place was mobbed, cars double-parked in the street unloading people, 
dozens of patrons in leather and bondage outfits milling around on the 
sidewalk, bouncers trying to direct traffic in the parking lot.  It 
took me about fifteen minutes to find a parking place around the 
corner, and I walked up wondering how I was ever going to find Danielle 
amongst the crowd of people waiting.

As it happened, she found me.

"Danny!"

I turned to see two girls walking toward me, and it took me a second or 
two before I realized one of them was Danielle.  She wore some kind of 
bondage harness, which began at her neck with a narrow leather collar.  
An inch-wide strap descended between her breasts, where she wore a 
studded leather bra.  It kept going down her abdomen, where silver 
chains hung on both sides, presumably wrapping around her torso to 
attach to another strap in back.  After passing the silver ring in her 
navel, the strap finally connected to a narrow leather panty.  Under 
the harness, she also wore a leather garter belt, which attached to a 
set of black stockings.  On her feet, she wore black spike heels, the 
straps of which wrapped around her calves several times.  Her hair was 
loose, brushed out into a long blonde cascade, and she wore quite a bit 
of makeup--a lot more than she had that afternoon--the most striking 
element being her blood-red lipstick.

I felt my heart pounding my chest as she approached.  Good God--so much 
for academic objectivity.  I was going to have difficulty doing 
anything tonight besides ogle this girl.

Her friend was Latina, a little shorter and a little more plump.  She 
wore a leather corset over her ample chest and tight leather pants.  I 
noticed as they reached me that Danielle had attached a leash to the 
collar of her harness.

"Hey!"

"Hi."

"You look presentable.  That shirt looks good."

"Thanks.  That's quite an outfit you've got on."

"You like it?  Thanks.  This is Marisa."

I shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you."

Danielle played teasingly with the end of her leash for a second.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

She turned around and led me toward the door.  The leather panty she 
had on turned out to be a thong, and I saw some sort of rune tattooed 
on her shoulder.  She and Marisa squirmed through the crowd, and I 
tried to follow.  Danielle called to the doorman, who greeted her and 
let us in.  After paying the cover, I found myself inside.

I couldn't take it all in at once.  So many sensations--visual, 
auditory, olfactory, and tactile--instantly assaulted me that it took 
long moments to regain enough equilibrium to sort them out.  What did I 
see?  Darkness, at first.  Black leather, black latex, corsets, dog 
collars, fishnet stockings, sheer tops, spike heels.  No silly 
pretensions of modesty--bare flesh, male and female, abounded.  A woman 
walked past me wearing little more above her waist than a set of nipple 
clips.  Numerous men were being led around on their hands and knees by 
female companions.  The room was dark and crowded enough that it was 
like a great churning mass of flesh and fetishistic adornments.

Slowly I became aware of other elements.  Over the pounding music, I 
could sense moans and sighs of pleasure from the crowd.  Not that 
anything overtly sexual was occurring--mere existence in this place 
seemed enough to arouse.

The air was heavy and humid with sweat and cigarette smoke, spiced with 
the occasional aroma of musky perfume.  The aura of the club filled me 
with a vast buzzing energy of sensations and imagery.

I realized Danielle was nudging me.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh . . . yeah."

I tried to slow my breathing down.

"You look like you're about to faint."

"I'll be okay.  Just give me a minute."

"I know this is a lot to take at first."

"Is there anything I should be doing?  Like with the two of you?"

She laughed.

"No, just be cool.  Just try to enjoy yourself."

"Okay.  I will."

I tried to blend in and not gape too much, but no one was paying me 
much attention anyway.  Anyone who looked in our direction--and quite a 
few did--invariably focused on Danielle.

I regained enough of a grip on myself to buy Danielle and Marisa a 
round of drinks.  Danielle led us around, occasionally glancing at me 
to check my reactions.  I had, by this time, an enormous erection, and 
I hoped Danielle didn't notice it.

"This is pretty wild, huh?"

"You could say that."

"See anything you like?"

"Well . . . nobody who looks as good as you do."

She grinned.

"Good answer.  But I meant the outfits."

"I had no idea there were so many ways of dressing up."

She laughed again.

"Want to hold the leash?"

She handed it to me, and another thrill coursed through me.  I had just 
met this girl that afternoon, and here I was holding her at the end of 
a leash.  I had to close my eyes for a second and think of rotting 
fish, hospital waiting rooms, and my grandmother.  Had Danielle grabbed 
my crotch at that moment--admittedly unlikely--I think I might well 
have come in my pants.

A minute later, we ran into someone they knew, a tall, black-haired 
woman in her late thirties or early forties, dressed in a tight corset 
and carrying a riding crop.

They exchanged a quick peck on the cheek, and the woman then looked me 
up and down.

"Found yourself a new master, Danielle?"

Danielle laughed.

"No, he's just a friend.  So far, anyway."  She grinned at me.  "This 
is Danny.  Danny, this is Mistress Rebecca."

I shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mistress."

"And you.  This is quite a little submissive you have here.  If you 
plan on keeping her, you'll need to exercise a firm hand."

"I kind of get that idea."

She narrowed her eyes at me, smiling.

"This is new to you, I gather."

"It is."

Danielle continued grinning at me.

"He has a lot of potential, though, don't you think?"

"Well, he's certainly attractive.  About the rest, who can tell?  Are 
you sure you want to start off as a top, Danny?  I think I might be 
able to handle your training more effectively than she can."

Danielle and Marisa both laughed out loud.

"I think he'd look good on his knees," Marisa said.  "Don't you?"

I laughed with them, beginning to get into the atmosphere.

"I think that may have to wait, but we'll see."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Danielle said.

"What do you do, Danny?"

"I'm going to UCLA.  Grad school."

"He's getting a Master's degree," Danielle said, and the three of them 
all laughed.  I didn't get the joke for a second or two, then grinned 
in embarrassment.

Mistress Rebecca smiled.

"Are you really? Well, I suppose we'll see about that."

* * *

We milled around for about an hour with Mistress Rebecca.  Danielle 
introduced me to a few more people she knew, but eventually I convinced 
her to sit down with me near the dance floor.  Marisa remained nearby 
talking to another dominant but left us alone.

"So what do you think?" she asked me.  "Pretty neat, huh?"

"I'm getting into this."

"It's nothing really bizarre.  For most people, this is just role-
playing, a chance to be someone else.  Even people who think of 
themselves as naturally dominant or submissive aren't like this twenty-
four hours a day.  I mean, it's not like I go to work looking like 
this."

I laughed.

"God, I hope not."

"I don't think it's any different than preferring a particular position 
or wanting to dress up like a cheerleader or something like that."

"Do people who are dominant start off submissive, like Mistress Rebecca 
was saying?  Do you have to accumulate so many points at that before 
moving on to the next rank?"

She smiled.

"It's not that formalized, but I think it does help.  To be a good Dom, 
you have to really understand submission.  Some people can do that 
naturally, some can't.  And plenty of people switch back and forth, 
especially in long-term relationships.  But no one is going to compel 
you to take one role or another.  You might think about it.  Like I 
said, don't knock it if you haven't tried it.  Don't close yourself 
off."

"So what is it like?  Being submissive?"

She took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair.  She tried to stifle 
a grin.

"Okay.  Like I told you, I have to trust the person completely, because 
in order to get anything out of it, I have to totally let myself go.  I 
imagine myself as this helpless toy in someone else's hands.  That I 
exist solely for their pleasure, and he or she can do anything they 
want to me.  I just wallow in this feeling of sexual helplessness."

"Just helplessness?"

"Well, not just that.  You have to understand that there has to be a 
relationship in place before you get that far.  The dominant and 
submissive really have to know and understand each other.  You can 
almost think of the submissive as a musical instrument the dominant is 
playing.  To do that effectively, he or she has to understand what I 
get off on and what my limits are.  What they can play with and how.  A 
good Dom can string you along for hours, taking you to the brink 
repeatedly until you're just this mass of overstimulated nerves, until 
you can't differentiate pain and pleasure anymore.  It's a high like 
nothing else."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to keep my erection from 
contacting any part of my pants.  Good God, when was the last time I 
had been this turned on?  I took a breath to steady myself.

"And that's what you get off on?"

"Yes, but don't forget that the Dom gets off on it too, playing with 
the sub and pushing their limits.  He or she will get as wound up as I 
will if they're truly into this.  After a good session, we'll both be 
completely exhausted."

"I can see that.  I guess all those endorphins can get addictive."

"Definitely.  So, answer a question for me.  What do you think you get 
off on?  Put yourself in that scenario."

"Being submissive?"

"Either or.  It doesn't matter.  Plenty of men get off on being 
submissive, but just as many don't."

I ran through the story I had written, putting Danielle into the place 
of the girl, but dressed like she was now, instead of how I had written 
it.  The rush I got from it startled me.

I noticed Danielle glance at my crotch, grinning.  She laughed.

"Does that put the lead in your pencil, professor?"

I blushed, despite myself.

"Yes."

Marisa dragged us onto the dance floor a few minutes later, and I moved 
around with her and Danielle.  After we had been out there a while, 
another woman dressed as a submissive (I was beginning to recognize 
what was what) began dancing with Danielle.  She was probably about 
thirty, brown-haired, thin, dressed in a sheer top, a very short 
miniskirt and black stockings.  Her master (I guessed that was who he 
was, at least), stood behind her, watching.  Danielle glanced at me, 
smiled slyly, and handed me her leash again.  Then the two women moved 
closer together.

The other man grinned at me, and I tried to maintain my composure.  
Danielle and the other woman danced closer and closer, smiling at each 
other and touching lightly.  A hand here, a stroke there.  The woman 
glanced back at her master, and he motioned her forward.  She moved 
even closer to Danielle, trying to kiss her.  Danielle responded coyly, 
not reacting right away, glancing at me once.  Then she turned back and 
let the other woman kiss her.

As I watched, heart pounding in my chest and erection burning in my 
pants, the two women embraced.  The other woman kissed Danielle deeply, 
obviously frenching her.  Then she moved down, kissing Danielle's neck.  
Danielle laughed, holding the other woman's head as she continued 
downward.  She paused to fondle Danielle's breasts over her bra, then 
to lick her abdomen, finally kneeling at Danielle's feet.  She extended 
her tongue and licked Danielle over her panties.

Danielle laughed again, letting the woman lick her for a few seconds 
before pulling her up again.  She kissed her a final time before 
turning away, using the leash to pull herself toward me.  

The woman's master moved next to us, and the woman stared at me 
lasciviously, licking her lips.

"Care to get together?  Maybe we could let them continue this in 
private."

It took me a second or two to answer him.

"You'd have to ask her.  She's really just a friend."

"I see."

He turned to Danielle.

"Interested?"

Danielle hugged my arm.

"I'm with him tonight.  We're just having fun."

"Okay.  Well, if you change your mind, let me know."

The two of them moved off, the woman giving Danielle one last leer.  
When they were gone, Danielle laughed at me.

"Oh, God.  I wish you could have seen your face."

"I'm sorry.  That was just a shock."

"I know.  But you're doing better."

* * *

V.

We finally left around one, and I followed them out to Danielle's car.

"Want to go some place else?" she asked.

"Sure.  But where?"

I wasn't sure what to suggest, since we could hardly go to Denny's the 
way the two of them were dressed.

"I'm kind of tired," Marisa said.  "Plus I have to be at work at ten."

"Okay.  Let me take Marisa home.  Just follow me.  I'll go home and 
change, then maybe we could go get something to eat."

"Sounds good."

I found my car and followed her back up Santa Monica.  She turned off 
the boulevard a few miles down, and dropped Marisa off at a squat gray 
apartment building near Century City.  I returned Marisa's wave as she 
went inside, then I followed Danielle back to Santa Monica.  She lived 
in another apartment building a few blocks from the cliff.

I sat outside while she changed, and she emerged about ten minutes 
later in jeans and a baby T-shirt, exposing her navel-ring.  Yesterday, 
I would have been attracted to such an outfit, but having seen her in 
fetish clothes, she suddenly seemed distressingly normal.  The buzz I 
had gotten from Club Fuck had yet to fade, and I didn't want to let go 
of it yet.

"Where to?"

"There's a diner a few blocks up, by the Third Street Promenade."

* * *

I followed her directions, and we got a table by the window.

"Tell me something," I said after we placed our orders.

"What?"

"Does that happen a lot?  Like with that woman on the dance floor?"

"Did that turn you on?"

I fought a grin.

"Just answer the question."

"It happens.  But please tell me you could tell we were just having 
fun."

"Yeah.  I think I understand that much.  You heard the guy with her 
asking if I wanted to 'continue this in private?'"

"Yes.  I wouldn't have done it unless I knew them better, and you, for 
that matter."

"But does that kind of thing happen?"

"Sure.  But it happens in all kinds of bars, right?  You've picked up 
girls like that, haven't you?"

I grinned.

"Well, I've certainly tried."

"It's pretty much the same.  Only the dress and lingo are different.  
And it's not like I get picked up every time I go there, any more than 
I do at any other kind of bar."

"Right, but still . . . "

"Okay.  I think I see what your problem is.  You don't understand why 
some guy would be offering his girlfriend the way that guy was.  What 
makes you think it wasn't her idea?  Her fantasy is probably to be 
treated like a sex object and led into random encounters with other 
women the way he was doing for her.  Why else would she be doing that?"

"I didn't think of that.  Good point."

"This is what I keep trying to tell you.  The 'dominant' person isn't 
necessarily the one in charge.  I mean, look at us tonight.  You had me 
on a leash, but I was the one leading you around."

The memory of having her on the end of that leash gave me another rush.  
She noticed, smiling at me, but continued with her explanation.

"What confuses a lot of straights is that BDSM fiction is so divorced 
from reality.  It's so full of these helpless men and women being 
kidnapped and carried off to some dungeon for a lifetime of submission 
and sexual servitude.  What so many people can't seem to understand is 
that all that is just a fantasy.  Nobody lives like that, at least no 
one I've ever met.  God knows I don't want it, but I still devour that 
stuff because the fantasy is so powerful for me.  What I do enjoy doing 
is pretending to do all that with someone I trust.  Pretending.  That's 
the key.  I get to enter this fantasy in a safe, consensual 
environment.  I can be a helpless slave one night and go back to my 
regular life the next morning."

"I can see I've got a lot of work ahead of me."

"Well, it's not as complicated as all that. I think if you analyze it 
too much, you just wring the fun out of it."

I laughed.

"If I don't analyze this, I need to come up with a different thesis 
topic."

She grinned.

"Okay.  Well analyze what you want, just remember what I said about 
keeping it fun and enjoyable."

We were there about an hour longer, flirting and joking about the 
things she had shown me that night.  I finally took her home around 
three.  I had calmed down enough by then that I didn't need to 
masturbate to get to sleep, as I had feared.

I wanted to, though.