SGN Page 43

Equal Thirst by Aubrey Sparks

Chapter 35 - THE ARMY OF BARBIES
I awoke in the morning, still lying on the floor. To my surprise, I felt better than I had for a while. I had fallen asleep there yesterday, suddenly and unexpectedly, because I had taken the wrong medication. Unfortunately, this meant that I missed my appointment with Bob at the Broadway Grill. I sent an e-mail to him to apologize and to see if he wanted to go to a birthday party the following weekend. I thought it would help him if he were introduced to more leathermen from around the Northwest. I told him that there were basically two groups of leathermen. The first group tends to focus their activities around bars, contests and public spaces while the other tends to have private parties in their homes. Either way, they all want to be social and they like introductions to new people. Among the bar-and-contest group there are organizations whose members secretly masturbate while reading Roberts Rules of Order. In my opinion, these groups tend create structures for their social interactions while the private party crowd tends to rely more upon a balance of freedom and responsibility. Right now, because of my stroke, both groups present problems but I hope this will change in time. In this case, I was invited by a gentleman to a private party in his home, which is not on Capitol Hill. To attend one of his parties you have to be invited even if you are crashing. And if you are a jerk at one party, you will not be invited to the next. But I am popular at parties, partly because I make a great Linzertorte. Our host, along with his gaggle of slaves, was celebrating his birthday with this party, so I brought a card and some wine because I wasnt sure what he really would like as a gift. Anyway, wine is the best gift because it is usually gone before it has to be dusted. I brought two bottles of wine - one red and one white. Bob brought neither. I enjoy the details of Leather culture. People living inside it tend to surround themselves with interesting metaphors, such as dominance, submission, collars, boots, hanky codes, clothes (or not), butt plugs, furniture (or not) and so forth. In truth there are really no rules in the Leather community except that one should have good manners. There was a time when there were certain assumptions one could make when entering spaces where Leather culture lived, but in modern Leather or BDSM, it was best to assume nothing, even the gender of the person before you. Bittersweet. At the front door, our host gave me a large and warm hug. I introduced him to Bob. We came inside. Looking around the room, I saw a number of friends. We waved and joined them. I introduced Bob around the circle. I hoped that, with time and exposure to these people, Bob would soften his edges, which would be more enjoyable for him, me and the others. As I watched him, he grew tenser with each new person to whom he was introduced. I considered for a moment all the people I knew who were not at this party. If they had been there for Bob to be introduced to, Bob probably would have snapped, his head exploding in the middle of the living room. As my host had recently painted the house, it would have been rude to cover his walls with gore. Suddenly I realized that I had forgotten to explain to Bob that our host didnt have a sense of humor. I didnt worry for my own sake. Everyone knows that I am so polite and that I would never, ever do or say anything offensive in someone elses home. But this was all a new experience for Bob. Obviously, I couldnt warn him, not now that we were already here. Id just have to hope for the best. Our hosts name was Master Q and his slaves were #1, #2 and #3. #1 gave Bob and me drinks. Master Q announced that, if we liked, he would be happy to lead us all on a tour of his home. Bob and I joined the group. Master Qs house was larger than I thought. It was handsome even though it was perhaps a little over-decorated. On one table, for instance, stood large angels, taller than me and moving slowly as if in a store window. Their eyes were blinking. Their heads nodded slowly up and down and their arms moved back and forth. If Id watched this for long, I would have gotten sick. His garden was beautiful. I had heard that he was given an award for his garden. Looking back toward the house, I saw that #1, #2 and #3 were collared and that their collars were chained to each other. They wore only locked collars, chains, boots, socks and the garden sunlight. #1 carried a glass of wine to Master Q. #2 was blindfolded and seemed a little giddy, as though realizing a fantasy hed held for many years. These relationships seemed romantic. Master Q saw that I was smiling and he smiled as well. But several others who had joined our tour seemed nervous. This situation was perhaps outside their experience and comfort. They seemed to be trying to think of something clever to say when, abruptly, the tour began again. I knew that part of Master Qs business was selling and buying dolls. Our tour came into a room that must have had at least forty of them in chairs or on shelves. As he was talking about these dolls, I was thinking that I had never seen so many dolls together. Without thinking about it, I turned and asked, Do they ever talk back to you in the middle of the night? He frowned and the tour continued. Aubrey Hart Sparks is a long-time local writer, leatherman, activist, and social annoyance. The Seattle Gay News is pleased to present the ongoing series Equal Thirst. He hopes that you will read the Equal Thirst archives at wwww.leatherdaddy.com, with clues hidden in there for you to see if there will be a happy ending or not. The preceding work is entirely fictional. Any resemblance between its characters and actual people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental - except you.