lot slicker and more professional than I expected. The names under the images were of different photographers, and I followed the links back to their profiles. There I found hundreds of photos, not just a dozen. My mind was boggled at the wide-ranging imagination of the photographers, and of the models tied up into beautiful contorted shapes. A few were graphic, but mostly they were otherworldly and haunting.
I took a deep sigh. Drugs, I could sort of understand. Lola was always so angry that it probably felt good for her to let go. But this stuff made no sense. Why would Lola want to expose herself like this?
Going back to Lollycat, I saw that there were events listed down one side that Lola had checked as “maybe going.” In the text of her profile, she called herself a “new bondage model,” and said that photographers could contact her about setting up a shoot with her. Under relationships, there were several names under “In a rope family with…” and Martin was the first one listed.
I poured over the profiles of the three names who were linked to Lola’s profile. Their profiles had additional relationship links to other people. I could hardly get through it all, there were so many photos and comments posted, especially by the woman, JuneTime. She was the blond woman who I saw with Lola at the Chamber.
Under Martin’s profile, there were hundreds of shadowy shots of swirling fire and bursts of sparklers partly obscuring the performers. None of them were of the high quality of the fetish photographers that Lola had posed for. They looked like snapshots taken at events, interspersed with startlingly ordinary photos of him hanging out with friends at parties or sitting on the back of a van between the open double doors. They chronicled several years of traveling around the country with his “performance troop” called Transcendence. They did “fire shows” and “freak shows” where he swallowed a sword and JuneTime twirled a baton lit on fire.
When I clicked on some of their hundreds of friends, things got a lot more graphic with photos of red marks slashing across people’s backs and buttocks, and frankly explicit shots of genitals. Some men used a photo of their erection as their profile p hoto, of all things! As if that was appealing. I made sure to click away quickly from those profiles.
I was shocked to see how late it was when I finally put the lap top away, reeling at what I had seen. I had been in the fetish network for hours. I could hardly keep my burning eyes open, but my brain was buzzing in overtime.
I turned out the lights and lay on the couch in the dark, trying to absorb the riot of things I had seen.
I didn’t understand it. And what I didn’t understand, I had to figure out.
Dick was a jerk for suggesting I bug Lola’s laptop. I would never do that.
But I could put on that red wig and go to the next event that Lola had checked as “maybe going.” Pleasure Salon. It was being held at a bar on the lower east side.
There was nothing stopping me. And I might find out more.
The next day, yawning at work, I found the halter dress in a sales rack. It was black and when I tried it on, it fit my body like a glove. It was something I would never buy usually, so it was a real surprise to see how sexy I looked in it. In that dress, with that red wig, I could become a different person. Someone who could walk into a bar filled with fetish-lovers and feel right at home.
Then I could see for myself what Lola was up to.
Chapter 4
Victor
I was up the block when I spotted those distinctive magenta curls going into the bar. I got a sudden rush like I’d never felt before, the visceral memory of Sierra’s body crushed under me as I whispered to her. Her rapid breath on my face, as I leaned so close to her cheek that I could feel her trembling.
I didn’t like to think that it was nonconsensual, but it was a mindfuck she hadn’t negotiated. I had set it up that way.
I took a deep sigh. Drugs, I could sort of understand. Lola was always so angry that it probably felt good for her to let go. But this stuff made no sense. Why would Lola want to expose herself like this?
Going back to Lollycat, I saw that there were events listed down one side that Lola had checked as “maybe going.” In the text of her profile, she called herself a “new bondage model,” and said that photographers could contact her about setting up a shoot with her. Under relationships, there were several names under “In a rope family with…” and Martin was the first one listed.
I poured over the profiles of the three names who were linked to Lola’s profile. Their profiles had additional relationship links to other people. I could hardly get through it all, there were so many photos and comments posted, especially by the woman, JuneTime. She was the blond woman who I saw with Lola at the Chamber.
Under Martin’s profile, there were hundreds of shadowy shots of swirling fire and bursts of sparklers partly obscuring the performers. None of them were of the high quality of the fetish photographers that Lola had posed for. They looked like snapshots taken at events, interspersed with startlingly ordinary photos of him hanging out with friends at parties or sitting on the back of a van between the open double doors. They chronicled several years of traveling around the country with his “performance troop” called Transcendence. They did “fire shows” and “freak shows” where he swallowed a sword and JuneTime twirled a baton lit on fire.
When I clicked on some of their hundreds of friends, things got a lot more graphic with photos of red marks slashing across people’s backs and buttocks, and frankly explicit shots of genitals. Some men used a photo of their erection as their profile p hoto, of all things! As if that was appealing. I made sure to click away quickly from those profiles.
I was shocked to see how late it was when I finally put the lap top away, reeling at what I had seen. I had been in the fetish network for hours. I could hardly keep my burning eyes open, but my brain was buzzing in overtime.
I turned out the lights and lay on the couch in the dark, trying to absorb the riot of things I had seen.
I didn’t understand it. And what I didn’t understand, I had to figure out.
Dick was a jerk for suggesting I bug Lola’s laptop. I would never do that.
But I could put on that red wig and go to the next event that Lola had checked as “maybe going.” Pleasure Salon. It was being held at a bar on the lower east side.
There was nothing stopping me. And I might find out more.
The next day, yawning at work, I found the halter dress in a sales rack. It was black and when I tried it on, it fit my body like a glove. It was something I would never buy usually, so it was a real surprise to see how sexy I looked in it. In that dress, with that red wig, I could become a different person. Someone who could walk into a bar filled with fetish-lovers and feel right at home.
Then I could see for myself what Lola was up to.
Chapter 4
Victor
I was up the block when I spotted those distinctive magenta curls going into the bar. I got a sudden rush like I’d never felt before, the visceral memory of Sierra’s body crushed under me as I whispered to her. Her rapid breath on my face, as I leaned so close to her cheek that I could feel her trembling.
I didn’t like to think that it was nonconsensual, but it was a mindfuck she hadn’t negotiated. I had set it up that way.
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