Of the many strange and wonderful things I’ve seen in the past few years, few were as surprising as the tableau I glimpses as the elevator doors opened to the party in the penthouse of the fancy downtown hotel. It was amazing, beautiful, decadent, breathtaking, and also pretty fucking weird.
Actually it wasn’t just one penthouse, but three, all opened up to the others to form a sort of club, with a DJ, two different bars, and various sexy and kinky accoutrements. Massage tables, a Saint Andrew’s cross, contraptions I didn’t know the names of for tying people to or fucking people against.
I’d been to somewhat similar events, but usually they were at somewhat seedy locals with a crowd that was a mixed bag. This took everything to a new level. The whole place was opulent, clean, organized, and all of the people there were beautiful. Some were waif like model beautiful, others curved and busty beautiful, others wild hair burner beautiful. There were all kinds of beautiful. Big Chippendale dancer looking beautiful. Assess chap beautiful. Beautiful. (I know I’m teetering into that place where you repeat a word until it has no meaning, but anyway.)
Some of these people were in tuxedos, others lingerie, some in leather or latex. Hell there was a woman laying on a table wearing nothing but sushi.
I tried not to gawk and hoped my suit was up to snuff. Still as strange as it all was, it was remarkable how quickly I become acclimated to the environment. Within minutes I was touring the place, champagne flute in hand, as if it were a normal Saturday evening.
Continue reading The Eyes and the Hand