I’ve decided to set another story in DC since I love it there and that’s where I was roaming the streets a few days last week. Besides it has a bit of a sexy edge which is something my writing of late hasn’t had much of lately which is a completely different post that’s coming soon.
On a similar note I came across this photographer (in case the link doesn’t work http://alternative-images.streamlinenettrial.co.uk/skin/ and some are duplicated on suffering4art.com)on a thread on fetlife and I thought his pictures were stunning and quite original in a way a lot of Fetish works aren’t.
I haven’t corresponded with him and don’t know him personally but there is something genuinely dark and erotic in these that is so often lost in the typical fetish pictures. Well that and I’m a sucker for great black and whites. For the record my two favorites are these two image numbers !0001–DSCF5498MOD-cropped600.jpg and !0003–DSCF6633Selenium600.jpg
Now on to the story.
She was so comfortable in her own skin. She knew everything and was in total control is what she told herself as her heels clicked up the dark side walk in the cool air of a fall evening. The breeze blew past the buildings and through her clothes, touching her soft white skin with its tepid moist caress as it danced all over her.
She knew what she wanted she had fantasized about it a million times, lurked on web sites and forums for years. She had played it all out in her head. It was old hat, same old game on a brand new field but the rules certainly wouldn’t have changed. The game was always exciting but it was the new ball field or more so the audience that added to the excitement.
Cool as could be as she stepped through the door way and into the room. It was filled with an array of colorful character each symbolizing their own unique proclivities or combinations of them. One particular assortment felt no need to wait for a more secluded space for their wicked little game. Making her way to the bar her heart raced, ever so slightly. Ordering her drink her stomach began to
flutter and swallowing hard as she saw his unassuming form in the distance she questioned whether or not tis is what she really wanted, but only for a second.
Unassuming as he was lurking in shadows some how made him all the more becoming. Moving toward her his eyes unwavering as hers met his and then looked down. She missed his smile, the wicked little smile that said more than words ever could.
“Good evening” she said nervously
He simply took her by the hand as she gulped down the last of her drink before being led across them room, down a hallway and into a large open space filled with images most would equate with a hellish mid evil torture chamber as sound of whooshing, cracks of cruel little devices against completely bared flesh and the accompanying screams and moans to match. Her heart was now pounding, her skin wet with nervous anticipation as she watched the people before her total engulfed in their own little worlds oblivious to the voyeurs taking delight in their actions.
She wondered what does one say to some one say to these people after they’ve finished. Is it polite to clap, to tell them you enjoyed their display of intimacy and surrender through a polite comment after the fact or was it best to just share a knowing smile.
She wondered because something told her soon enough it would be her on display.