“You done ?” “Nope” “I think you are” “Ah, you see thats where you’ve mistaken me.” “Really ?” “Im not the person in your life that gives a fuck what you think, now pour” “Fuck you” “Buy me dinner first ?” Getting a drink late at night used to be so much easier. This club, this place it all felt familiar. But the details … the Devil is indeed in the details but the Devil had missed a trick here. Someone somewhere with a college degree in who-gives-a-fuck decided the interior, the mirrors, the staff uniforms, the collection of Gin and Bourbon, the craft beers …. and the patronage. “The beautiful people ?” And yet it all came back to some spotty faced bar ‘man’ telling someone they’d had enough. Really ? “How are you this evening sir ?” she said from behind him. Despite the hours of drinking which had moved at some point from the hair of the dog to the here and now, his senses were triggered and her perfume and presence had made him move from a slouch to a seated position on his stool before her words. “I was doing pretty good, but …. hmmm yes, things have gotten considerably better now that you’re here” “Im the manager here, Im told you’ve had enough … but typically patrons capable of words with more than two syllables get a pass from me” “Cheers” “You’re welcome Sir” Standing … raising his glass to the remaining groups spread through the bar “To you …the beautiful people …. I salute you and mourn what might have been”. Absolutely nobody in the room was distracted from their conversations, smart phones or fixing their make up in pocket mirrors. “These are not The Beautiful People” came the managers voice, a whisper to his ear, a hand on his hip. Her body closer to his now than he remembered. The crimson colour of her finger nails on his forearm, the press of her breast against his shoulder as she leaned closer and whispered “Don’t upset the kittens now, let them play amongst themselves in the here and now.” Placing a card in his top shirt pocket “Come visit if you want to meet beautiful people. But be careful … one taste and you may never want to go any where else”. As she walked away, he swayed a bit and took another sip of his drink as he reached and read the card she’d given him. Just an address, like any other. He glanced up to see her standing, watching him on the other side of the room now. Her eyes burned across the space and it was as if she was standing directly in front of him again. He’d always had a thing for powerful women. Not just an admiration. But a thing for them. Discovering them, their limits … what really triggered them, consumed them and he smiled across at her and raised his glass once again. As the night air hit him between the door of the club and the cab he realised that the hours of drinking had indeed taken their toll and a trip past his hotel en route would make sense. As he stood in the shower, he replayed the club and conversation over in his mind. The sound of the shower and the feel of the water on him giving him respite from the raging images and thoughts he’d been running from these last few days. The club, the people there …. who was he to judge, who was he to understand … he expected nothing from anyone and didn’t owe them any insight but he wanted to scream. He wanted to grab each one of them and rage. There was more to pretence, to material things, to their precious fucking smart phones and the quest to be ‘liked’ or ‘tagged’ or ‘checked in’. He’d done his best to check out on so many occasions but his mind wouldn’t quieten. He knew nothing of beautiful people, he just knew people and he what they were truly capable of. In order to get what they want people will do and say anything. In order to survive there is nothing another person won’t do to another. It wasn’t a new philosophy. It was just one that modernisation and modern culture have strived to hide. We work, buy, cheat, take to ensure we’re perceived as strong so that we’re not the weak … because only the strongest survive. We posture, we shout, we laugh and we run from anything that may cause us to pause, to consider, to think. Is this it ? Is this all we are to one another ? A fresh shirt and a relatively clean New York cab took him to his destination on Jay Street in Tribeca. As he emerged from the cab he double checked the address on the sheet of paper he’d been given and wandered towards the door of the building as the cab left behind him. This part of the city seemed quieter. It had begun as farmland along time ago, but now it was home to models. artists and the annual film festival. By tradition and contempt for material minded people he would often ignore the invites from friends living in this area of the city for dinners and parties. He’d dismissed them off hand based on the expectation that sitting around eating rich food and being told how expensive the wine was a conflict for him he just couldn’t stomach. Whether it was food, wine, art … everything should be appreciated, but available to all people. Those educated and wealthy or simply those wealthy by virtue of family connections were often less capable to comprehend to beauty and richness of the things they took for granted. As the door opened, he immediately felt the cool and perfumed air of the entrance hall that beckoned. This was an old house that had been renovated but still maintained the beautiful artistic details that the original builders had included. The dark parquet flooring underfoot in contrast to the light coloured walls and ceilings lit by low wall lights near his feet. The doorman that had welcomed him, took the piece of paper he’d offered without speaking and offered to take his coat as he walked ahead down the corridor and up a small flight of wooden steps. “Enjoy” he said politely as he stood and opened the door into one of the buildings reception rooms. The room or world into which he stepped felt like something from another time and place to where he’d just come. Incredibly high ceilings adorned with its original coving and cornices above, the opposite wall with four windows and window seats, dressed with long satin aubergine curtains from ceiling to floor … his eyes continued to scan the details of this room when her voice once again appeared beside him and that familiar perfume. “I’m so glad you could come … and took the time to take a shower first” her eyes looked into his again before her lips moved from a smile to a laugh … and kissed him on the cheek. “Well it seemed like a good idea” and now looking through the room and its occupants again “but I just wished you’d told me it was black tie”. “Not at all, you’re fine as you are” dismissing him and taking his hand. “Lets go get you that other drink shall we ?” As he was led across the room to the bar he was immediately and intensely self conscious. The men were all wearing tuxedos and despite the party being in full swing they were all still impeccably dressed and coherent from what he could tell. Similarly the women were all wearing black dresses, extenuating beautiful figures. There was nothing outlandish, extravagant or flashy and the music playing complimented the mood of the room rather than dictated it. As he walked he noticed how everyones eyes followed him, conversations hushing as he was led by his hostess. “Bourbon ?” “Sure, and thank you. This is definitely a very different club entirely to the one before.” “Yes, its private, invite only and there are no cell phones permitted. Nobody here wants anyone else to know about this place.” “Ahh, I think I’m beginning to understand. I don’t have any car keys with me but …” “It was your sense of humour and adventure that got you the invite, along with those good looks of yours, but you’re wrong and I really do hope you like surprises”. “Me ? surprises ? very little would surprise me these days” “We’ll see” As they laughed and chatted, he once again tried to read the crowd. They seemed to be waiting on something or someone and periodically his eyes caught others glancing in his direction and continue with their conversations. It was that feeling you can often get at the start of a show. When peoples appetites are being whetted before the main course is served. With the sound of a gong from the open door a number of things happened without any warning’ “ill take that” as his drink was snatched out of his hand and 4 of the male attendees quickly held his hands and arms. The music was cut, the crowd in the room had all turned their attention to him and parted revealing a large black Saint Andrews cross at the other end of the room. Red leather chords hung from each of it’s restraining points. “Are you something beautiful ? or are you something free ?” she appeared facing him now. “Be beautiful” she commanded as she began to take his shirt off. There was simply no where to go and no point in struggling. He felt immediately sober and aware of the fact he was being held tightly by four strong guys who seemed entirely there to serve her. The woman who’d invited him here from the club. The crowd were silent, the women now discernibly more prominent that the male occupants in his view across the room. The lights had been extinguished at some point apart from one in the ceiling above the cross at the other end of the room. “Bring him and bind him” she commanded. “I need to prepare” she remarked over her shoulder as she walked ahead of them through the crowd before exiting the room. While his body was pressed hard against the wooden cross, his arms stretched high above his head and wrists bound with the leather straps he began to search the faces of those closest for someone, anyone that could help him, free him from this. The room was silent, unsurprised and expectant of what was to come. The guys binding his wrists and removing the remaining clothes he was wearing moved about their duties without any emotion. He felt the searing pain of the straps pulled tight against the wooden cross and wondered had they all gone through this ? what was this ? and then he realised he was naked, spread eagled bound to a cross in a room filled with people staring at him. There was absolutely no movement of his body possible but his mind raced attempting to find a foothold no matter how small in what was happening and how his reality had switched over to this parallel universe in a matter of hours. The noise of her heels was what broke the silence as she returned to the room. A slow, deliberate strut of sorts as she appeared in front of him. She deliberately paused under the only light allowing him to take her in and for her to inspect him. Her black patented high heels and long legs were wrapped in black stockings and held perfectly by her black lace suspender belt. She wore a black leather bodice with a beaded neckline that wrapped her torso and breasts perfectly and exposed her beautiful shoulders, collar bones that looked exquisite in the light above her. Those eyes that had first drawn him in were focused on him now. “I thought we had turned off the air conditioning earlier” she laughed and the a ripple of laughter moved through the crowd. He’d been staring at her glistening sex which was was perfectly smooth and presented between her long legs and barely noticed that the joke was on him, until the laughter of the crowd had interrupted his thoughts. He felt himself twitch and pulse and realised that his own sex was awakening given the intoxicating vision in front of him. She strode towards him now, closing the distance almost instantly and took him in her hand, squeezing, stroking and massaging. “Good, there’s life in this dog” she said before leaning in and biting down on his neck - on that edge between pleasure and pain - whilst still holding his sex in her hands. The feel of her skin, her lips and the leather bodice against his body in addition to her hand stroking and squeezing him meant she had his full attention now and a groan escaped his lips in approval. She pressed her lips against his now and kissed and the taste of her tongue searching his made him even harder. Instinctively he pushed his hips forward and tried to move his hand and arm against the restraints. She stopped and stepped back smiling at him now, before looking down and his sex that was standing to attention and pulsing towards her. Stepping to one side, her back to him, her hand reached once again to stroke him. His eyes now could see the eyes and faces on the crowd watching them and he threw his head back focusing on the feel of her hand, the smell of her body and feel of the cheeks of her ass against his hip. “The pleasure … before the pain” she laughed and stepped away again. A mix of confusion and panic now rose within his chest as he saw her move away … he was all about the pleasure, the pain ? not so much. And then it came, the crushing contrast of what he’d been feeling in the form of a bamboo cane crashing into the skin on the right of his abdomen. He gasped and expelled a grunt before the second, third, fourth came. All air had left his lungs, his entire body was bracing, trying to get to control of this white pain, white noise that was rising now within him. The scream that came out of his mouth, his face upturned, contorted with pain to the gods above was like that of an animal that had been mortally wounded. It seemed alien to him, like all of this, the pain, this woman, this room was occurring to someone else. He could hear this noise and as it began to weaken he saw a blur, heard the noise and felt the white heat of the cane melt into the flesh on his left side. At this point his mind collapsed on itself and he regressed back to the darkness, the sweet smell of her close to him, the feel of her holding his body and the sweet taste of her tongue inside his mouth. His head hung facing the ground but his eyes, despite being open were some where else. He saw the flame from the candle in the darkness come close and he raised himself up once again to her. The candle light between them he could only see her face. Her eyes full of care for him. Her hand reach and touched his chin, raising his head once again. “Some pleasure ?” she said aloud before dropping her hand below and between her legs. Pushing two of her fingers across her labia and into her sex, sampling the deep and warmth of herself before bringing them back to his lips. The sweet smell of her on her fingers at his lips consumed him and his lips and tongue took her fingers willingly inside his mouth savouring every molecule, licking, sucking, kissing on her. Devouring her taste and the natural reaction his body was having to that gift from her. She smiled once again and held the candle lower to his ribs and abdomen highlighting the damage that the whipping had done. Blood oozed from several cuts the cane had made. His mind or body wasn’t listening at this point, distracted by the pleasure she had given him. Without warning she poured the wax from the candle down his right side triggering a convulsion of pain and another primal howl of anguish from him. As it cooled and hardened mixed with the skin and blood on his body, so did the searing pain and he once again was focused on her, her touch, her lips. She lowered her head and licked and kissed his nipple and the damaged area. ’Sealed with a kiss’ she smiled and stepped back into the crowd. His body was still attached to the cross to which he’d been bound. His mind however had transitioned to some place else. The intensity of the pain contrasting with the pleasure from her body and hands had triggered a metamorphosis of sorts he’d been craving. He didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to think. Alcohol was a stop gap and mindless misadventures with willing partners of no consequence of substance had left him numb. Were these the beautiful people ? not in the conventional ways of this world but for him they were this evening as his eyes scanned to room of applauding people welcoming him. Being awake, being aware, being able to feel both pain and pleasure and knowing that both are necessary to feel more was beautiful The scars that would form from this were his brand, his trademark and the people in this room, the tribe he’d searched for.