Gaining Control

Nicolas

I tapped my left foot anxiously on the carpeted floor of The Red Room, one of the many alternative lifestyle clubs in Columbus, Ohio. I had been coming here for weeks, and I've watched play scene after play scene, but I couldn't bring myself to participate. I know, it takes time to warm up when you're new to the lifestyle. However, I knew what I wanted, I just couldn't have it.

"How long are you going to stand out here?" the receptionist, David, asked. "Just open the door and go in."

What no one seemed to understand was that it wasn't just walking through those doors that scared me, it was hearing the moans, the slaps, the screams, that I couldn't take. And yet, I've been here for the last three weeks  every Friday night like a horny fucker who couldn't wait to pound a willing little sub. Slowly, I turned towards the direction of the thumping beats blaring from behind the closed door.

"Do you need help inside?" David's low voice sent a shot of rage through my body, and I clenched my jaw.

"Sure, David," I let out in a clipped tone, and before my cane hit the metal of the door, David's arm was grazing the back of my hand.

The door was pulled open, and cold air along with the thumping beats greeted me as we stepped inside. I heard people talking and laughing as we continued walking. This has been the routine for the last three weeks: stand outside until I'm ready, have David walk me in, grab a seat and a drink or two from the bar, and then a member of the club would walk me around to the different scenes and describe them to me. I hated it here, the labels of the members, the way eyes could set a mood, the groups of people. I wanted to leave, and as I turned to David to tell him, he stopped.

"Your chair, sir." he said, an I heard the stool being pulled from underneath the bar.

Well, guess it's too late now. I sat down and sighed. One more hour, and you can go home! I thought as I pushed my hands into my jean's pockets.

"Do you want your usual, sir?" asked David, and I bit the inside of my lip to stop any angry retorts.

"Yep," I said, not even bothering to look in the direction of his voice.

Just one more hour, and you'll be back in your apartment where it's warm and where you'll be safe. Nothing was normal about me, and I felt it in the way people mingled around me, how they talked to me, and how no one offered to play or engage me with simple conversation. NO ONE! Maybe, this was a mistake. A cup was set before me then, and as I picked it up to sniff its contents: Moscato, I smiled and took a big gulp. Well, at least I could drink in peace.