Friday, August 05, 2011
The room was bathed in burnt umber late afternoon light. It illuminated my two friends like a shaft of sun from a Renaissance painting. Bunny had made a platter of stuffed mushrooms and they were crispy on the top, just the way I liked them. We sat on my long leather sofa smoking a communal bowl as I weighed their well considered advice. I had filled in both Bunny and Sebastian regarding my terror tussle with Wayne and like good friends they exclaimed and cooed comforting noises in all the right places.
Gordon, however, was no where to be found. I had tried contacting him and to no avail. I had wanted his insight into this latest predicament. It had gone way past a colorful cocktail party story. I had considered it a near death experience. Like any New Englander worth their salt, any North Eastern born and bred- we were true to form in being loath to get involved. By this, I do not mean our mostly well deserved accolades for being a bastion of liberal, progressive,level headed and innovative people. Best of all, we mind our own business.I am speaking of the chilly, aloof and distant side of our regional reputation. The one we have for being harsh, edgy and as changeable as the weather. Which we all seemed compelled to address ad nauseum from cradle to grave. This is an insiders joke to all my homies.I am letting us off lightly as I am one of them.
"I'm no real fan of the coppers" remarked Sebastian as he stroked my lilac dipped cat Monti.
"Because you are gay"? asked Bunny politely. Her curls skimmed the mushroom caps gaily as she ate them off the blue china plate.
"As a queer man I am always a sexual suspect but no it's cause I like to smoke the green."
"It's not the police that make the laws though" I protested, trying to talk myself into making that call to the cops. Would it make me a rat somehow?
I had flash backs of uneasy allegiances which were not exactly friendships. They were more like hostage situations where I had suffered from a kind of Stockholm syndrome growing up. I was at one point raised in a gated community so you had to take what was given as a child regarding your associates. The only way we could escape was on bicycle. The tide of progeny from divorced homes came in and out in transitory waves, washing over me in fleeting companionship at best. One minute you were blowing out the candles of little Lisa's store bought birthday cake in Apartment 23C across the hall, the next minute you were watching another moving truck pull away from the curb. However even though most of the children were really just uneasy strangers, we still kept our mouths shut about another kid's transgression.
A rat, a tattle tale had a special circle in hell and as I remembered, I regressed. I balked at the idea (especially as a fledgling Domina of nine months or so) of turning anyone into the police and I dreaded a possible retaliation on Wayne's part. I was also rather stunned at the acuity of purpose I had displayed as I whaled on Wayne's ass. I was ready to stomp that mother fucker to death and my fingers curled in remembrance, like a werewolf at sunset. It was both unseemly as well as unfeminine. My Mother would have been horrified and my father proud. I suspected neither would be proud if I did not make that call but of course I could not ask them.
"True but didn't you also just find out that professional Domination is illegal? If you DO call the police how are you going to tell them the truth without implicating yourself?" asked Bunny hesitantly.
"Don't get me wrong Ava, I think you should call them, absolutely no question about it. I know through my being a councilor that the police department have devices that unscramble a blocked number. So if you call you should do it on a pay phone".
"Are you sure about that?" What a pain in the ass it would be to find a working pay phone in this country never mind the state. They were quaint, inoperable sign posts of the past like barber poles or cobble stones.
"Pretty sure.' nodded Bunny emphatically.
"What did I hear you say? Domination is illegal?" asked Sebastian astonished "WHY"?
"Yup. I just found that out. Can you believe it? From what I can gather it is the strap on part that makes it an act of prostitution but the law is maddeningly vague. It makes me furious actually. Even the act of spanking can constitute prostitution. Can you imagine? What you and I did with Sissy Maid could actually trigger an investigation! It probably wouldn't go anywhere in a court of law but the powers to be seem to count on the fact that we don't want a hassle. And they are right." I finished glumly.
Posted by The Laughing Mistress at 7:36 PM