1, 2, Buckle My… Handcuffs?

Now for the epic continuum of our previous entry.

When we last left our hero (that’s me) she was caught in a double-bind, both literally and figuratively. Still clad in leather and embarrassment I was dragged from one end of Capitol Hill to the next. It was at roughly this point in the night that my phone began ringing over and over and over again. Almost as though someone was trying to get a hold of me! I looked down at my phone and realized the person who had been placing the phone calls was my dear friend Carlos who was supposed to be staying with me for the weekend. I had told him to call me when he was done running errands and walking around the hill to find out where I was and where we could meet up. It was at this point that I realized after trying to call me for half an hour he gave up and just went to my apartment. This is – for good reason, where I am going to end this night. I caught a cab in order to beat Carlos to my apartment, and a very irritated Ms.Y went home alone.

/Friday

I’m going to skip Saturday and jump directly to Sunday evening. Which is where the story continues. I had been invited by Ms.Y to go to the closing ceremonies and after party for the Festival Of Babes which had been going on all weekend in Seattle. For those of you who are unaware. Festival Of Babes is a gay soccer leauge. The stage for the evening was supposed to be set at Cowgirls Inc. However, at around 5PM I received a phonecall from the lovely Ms.Y, stating that she was not feeling well and and encouraging me to go to the FOB party regardless. Injecting statements into the conversation such as, “It’s going to be a lot of fun.”, and “You will have a good time without me!.” My brain (being the paranoid that I am) read this as Ms.Y being upset with me. I began compiling a comprehensive list of all the reasons she could be mad at me.

1. Because I had to ditch her on Friday in order to meet Carlos at my apartment.

2. She noticed that I was flirting with Ms.X and did not appreciate the implications.

3. She is getting jealous over me and doesn’t want to come off as overbarring.

Etc. etc. etc… After agonizing over this for the next few hours I, in my paranoid state decide that in a past life I was a hitman who killed her parents and burned down her village, she recently partook in past-life regression therapy and figured all of this out. While luring me into a false sense of security by sleeping with me she has me now, right where she wants me, and intends to kill me next time I sleep next to her. After convincing myself that there is no way that could be true. I re-examined the facts and figured she was probably slightly resentful over me taking off on Friday. I did my best to write it off for the evening as I did not want to be in a state of anxiety until I had the opportunity to deal with it. It is roughly 8PM now and I really don’t want to go to Cowgirls Inc. stag. So I remembered Ms.X saying that she had been contemplating attending. I rang her up and filled her in on the situation, and asked if she wanted to join me for the evening. She informed me that she may have already made plans for the evening, but would ring me back if they fell through. An hour later my phone rings and it is Ms.X on the other end, “Hey, my plans tonight are to go to The Wet Spot, did you want to go?” From the moment these words were uttered my brain and stomach knew that it was probably a bad idea. My body has never cared much for my brain or stomach anyway.

For those of you who don’t live in WA, or for those of you who live under a rock: The Wet Spot is a local fetish club/community, they throw play parties, and is very popular in the leather community. I had never been, but I have had friends who were members in the past. Alas, it perked my interest and gave me soething to do for the evening rather than show up stag to a party where I didn’t know anyone. I found out this club was actually pretty close to my apartment. So I walked there.

I met Ms.X in the parking lot of a office supplies store that was across the street from the club, as it is a members only club and I needed her with me to guest me in. When I saw her standing next to her SUV my body was finally let in on the joke. She wore a simple black dress with short sleeves and an under bust corset over the top. Finished with shiny black high heels. My jaw dropped, my eyes bulged, and every other cartoonoy gesture you can imagine happening to Daffy duck when he sees Bugs Bunny walk by in the swanky dress and blonde wig.

I was in trouble. I was going to do something bad.

-Cole