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bound and gagging
�That�s a yesterday question! It�s a new day! A new, profitable, efficient new day!� (The boss on �Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law�) On Saturday night, I went out with my buddy Troy. We swung by Silver Dollar, which is not either of our favorite place, but we had promised to make an appearance at a TGRA candidate show. We walked through Pegasus, which was as bleak as ever, and then headed over to the Eagle. The Eagle, for those who don�t know, is supposed to be a leather bar. Inside the bar, there is a small shop that sells leather wear and assorted fetish gear. The bar itself doesn�t have a dress code, though, so on a busy night, you may see a few leather people, but it�s a mixed crowd on the whole. I�m surprised how many of the little club twinks congregate there. It�s a sight to see: nelly Abercrombie bois giggling in groups, mean-looking leather daddies scowling, ordinary folks chatting, and the usual sprinkling of horrible trolls cruising the fringes. Last night was a busy night, with people packed wall-to-wall into the smoky darkness. Troy and I slummed about for a bit, before meeting up with Louie and his friend Clarence. I know Louie from �the way-back�; in fact, we dated for a hot second back in the late 90s. I had never met Clarence before, but I liked him immediately. He�s quick to laugh, and shares my predilection for humor at the expense of others. Since the Eagle is ostensibly a leather bar, I took the opportunity to wear my latest impulse purchase: a big black leather collar with three heavy metal rings. I have recently developed a fascination with leather, but that�s a story for another day. The collar gets lots of looks, and I�m somewhat ambivalent about that. The attention is fun, but it�s strange how an additional accessory makes me feel more exposed somehow. So Troy wandered off to talk to some guy he�s been messing around with, and Louie, Clarence and I staked out a corner from which we could see, and make fun of, everyone. Since none of us is less than 6�1�, we tend to have a commanding view in crowds, which facilitates the aforementioned making fun of everyone. And so the evening proceeded, until�well, some acquaintance of Louie�s wandered over to say hi. Allow me to set the scene: this guy was maybe 40, 5�6� on a good day, and obviously drunk. He also had a loud, nasal, high-pitched voice that was the functional equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard. In short, he was like Nathan Lane in a leather vest and hot-pants. The kind of guy who makes me die a little inside. Alas, this little guy took an immediate shine to Clarence and I. And oh my God, could he talk. He just went on and on about how cute I am, and then how cute Clarence is, and then back to me, and so forth, all the while touching our faces, rubbing my chest, etc. He repeatedly suggested that I should take my shirt off (and naturally, he tried topull my shirt off while suggesting this. I said �I don�t think so,� rather decisively. In his hideous, dendrite-scraping voice, he replied �Oh come ON, last week I was DANCING on the BAR in NOTHING but my UNDERWEAR!� Clarence gripped my thigh as if struggling to contain an outburst of laughter. Shuddering at the thought, I said �well that�s you,� and looked to Louie with a desperate plea for help in my eyes. Louie was too busy cracking up to help, though, and Clarence and I were on our own. And thank God for Clarence, because right at that moment, he had a stroke of genius. He decided that I was his boyfriend. He was sitting on a barstool, and I was standing next to him, so he put is arm around my waist, pulled me close, and announced that I was his. Screechy promptly announced that he didn�t care, and would be glad to have both of us. Ugh, our bluff was called. But Clarence kicked it up a notch and announced that �we don�t swing that way,� going on to explain that I belong to him, and him alone, and that I don�t do anything unless he tells me to. That took Screechy aback, and he looked to me for confirmation. �It�s true,� I said. �Ask Louie.� He looked to Louie, who said �It�s true, he�s very submissive. I should know, I used to date him. Clarence makes him sleep on the floor.� I turned aside and coughed, trying to disguise the fact that I was choking with laughter. Next, Screechy wanted to know how long Clarence and I had been together. �Six months,� Clarence announced. Louie chimed in with �It�ll be over in two weeks.� I only wish he had been standing nearer, so I could have kicked him in the shin. Screechy seemed not to notice, though, and soon he demanded that Clarence and I kissed. Now, Clarence is handsome, and I won�t deny being attracted to him. On the other hand, this scenario was just too strange, and I�m not one to kiss in bars in any case. These thoughts all raced through my head, but before I could say something retarded, Clarence saved the day yet again. �He only gets affection when I decide he deserves it,� he said, maintaining a flawlessly stern and serious face. �Well THAT�S not very nice!� whined Screechy. Louie said �He likes it that way,� and I chimed in with �I wouldn�t have it any other way. I need a strict man.� The situation was so patently bizarre, I briefly felt disoriented. Finally�FINALLY�Screechy went on his way. Clarence had earned my undying loyalty. Louie sent me a text message today to tell me that his friend still thinks that Clarence and I are together, and that I am Clarence�s submissive slave. There is apparently no end to the nonsense you can convince people to believe. On the whole, it was a fun night. In fact, I haven�t laughed that hard in a long, long time. I guess you really can find happiness in a smoky dive bar, if only for a few hours. Even being led around in a leather collar by a large black man.
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