We were prepared to witness something at least as bizarre and exciting as we had seen on our previous visit yet, in retrospect, I don’t believe either of us was prepared for the excesses we were to witness on the eve of All Saints.
The dark space appeared to have changed so radically that for a moment I thought we had entered another place altogether. We faced a circular stage surrounded with heavy velvet curtains in the centre of the large underground room. The place was filled with the smell of opium and tobacco, and the queer scent of marijuana clung in languid clouds in the humid air. Groups of people sat at elegant little tables clustered towards the stage. In front of the stage was a pit just large enough for a small band, which was playing blue jazz that made the room hotter and my heart bitter. The darkness to the left and right of the tables held voices and the shimmer of expensive beaded dresses. The dark offered up a jeweled hand here and there and now and again I caught a glimpse of rouged lips and cigarette holders. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I realized that it was from erotically disembodied hands and mouths that the smoke came, and after a time I could see the languorous forms of opium smokers stretched out on tapestried pillows, the long stems of the pipes in their hands. It seemed that their bodies were dilating en masse, and all the smokers caressed one another in lingering, slow motions.
At last my mistress said, “I am going to try some opium. I really must – have you ever, darling?”
I just shook my head. I was not afraid of the drug, but afraid of myself. I wanted to stay lucid, yet I knew it was impossible in the hallucination that was this nightclub. But I knew that if she wanted to try something, she would. I thought perhaps if she tasted the opium she would lose the anxiety and fear she was feeling towards me and, in a moment of compassion, I wanted her to be less afraid. But I knew her fear eroticized my violent motivations and suddenly I didn’t want her to smoke the drug. But it was too late. Not wanting to cause a disturbance, I let her go. She moved hypnotically towards the dark figures on the pillows. I thought to follow but turned away, thinking that I would return for her before the show started.
I walked towards the tables, each lit with magnificent candelabra. In the dim light I could make out women’s elegant fingers decked in jewels, and I could smell the fashionable scents of Chanel in the air. People talked secretively with one another, their heads tipped towards each other’s lips to listen or to steal a kiss. I felt suddenly alone and excluded and was about to turn and find my mistress. Just then I felt a hand at my elbow attempting to lead me somewhere.
I looked to my right and found a woman standing by my side. She was absolutely beautiful. She wore her sleek hair long, as young girls do before they ritualize their entrance into womanhood by, regrettably, cutting their locks. Behind her ear she wore a rose. She had the colouring of a Gypsy, her eyes black and her skin a lustrous olive. She wore nothing to cover her breasts, and around her hips a silken shawl with a fringe. She pulled me to an empty table further away from the opium than I wanted to be, for I did not want to lose my mistress in this strange crowd, especially not tonight. But I was captivated by the dark woman’s breasts, the tiny rings of gold pierced through her perfect nipples. The piercings looked beautifully strange and violently erotic, so much so that I followed the wordless motions of the woman without looking back towards my mistress. I wanted to touch this woman’s breasts. I wanted to taste the metal on my lips as I had done with the Japanese girl days before. I wanted to – my thoughts were giving way to more violence and it was getting increasingly difficult to stop the powerful surges that came over me.
As though the dark beauty had read my mind, she brought my eager hand to her breast, and I reached out to take the tiny ring between my forefinger and thumb. I pulled a little, and the corners of her sensuous lips turned up in a wincing smile. I pulled at the ring a little harder and she half-closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing her cheek. I imagined that the little moaning sound that she made came from the contact of my lashes on her skin. I let my eyes wander down the front of her figure, her long, flat belly, her secret parts barely hidden by the silken shawl. I ran my hand along the flat of her stomach as I reached around her neck to pull her generous lips towards my own, because it seemed she was offering herself to me.
She tilted her head towards mine willingly and I tasted to my fill of her lips and neck. She bit my lips with a single-mindedness that matched my mood, and her fingernails dug into the nape of my neck. As we kissed, she unhooked the cape from my neck. Once she had removed the cloak, she surprised me by putting it about her own shoulders, which made her look magnificently sinister, her bare breasts surrounded by the black fabric of the opera cape, the contours of her body trickling with red silk. The small orchestra had started to play music that filled my head with the rhythm of sex, the music of fucking. My blood was responding to the beat of the music, and my sex was responding to the cloaked image of the tall woman, who was leaning towards me over the small candlelit table.
I knew I was about to commit an infidelity. And I wished that my mistress were closer to watch. I was going to ravish this woman, and I knew my pleasure would be that much greater if my mistress were forced to watch as I took and gave pleasure to an equally beautiful creature as she.
The dark woman and I sat together without uttering a single word. Her black hair was falling over one shoulder, nearly covering her breasts. I reached out and touched those tempting breasts again, brushing the hair away so that I could admire them throughout the seduction. I wondered if the piercing had given her great pain, and if she had enjoyed the sensation. I began to wonder if she had willingly put those strange rings through her breasts, or if someone had forced her. This last thought enflamed my desire and gave way to more brutal thoughts. I found her right nipple with my lips and began to tease her by pulling the golden ring with my teeth. She arched her graceful back to meet my mouth. She was beautiful in the candlelight, and I was aroused beyond compare, the public nature of our caresses making me all the more excited. I reached down and unwrapped the shawl which covered her lower body. She tipped her pelvis up to meet my hungering stare.
I nearly fell back in my chair, gasping when I saw what rested between my dark beauty’s legs. Tucked in the dark thicket of her pubic hair was a fully formed male member. Since I never suspected for a moment that this mesmerizing beauty was endowed with such equipment, you can imagine my surprise. When I finally looked up to her face, I was met with the shine of perfect white teeth in the glow of the candles.
At first I thought his smile was mocking and the humiliation I felt turned my thoughts immediately vile. But then I saw the softness of her breasts, the inviting tilt of her body and I wanted to possess her. Unsure as to what to do next, yet still aroused by her beauty, I found it difficult to fall into her caresses again for I had yet to have relations with another man and I had been taught to find the act repugnant. And that made me want him more, because he was forbidden. I kept thinking of my lover, who had disappeared into an opium cloud, and wishing she could see this anomaly of nature, this beauty with perfectly formed breasts and as perfect a member as I had ever seen. I could feel the Gypsy pulling me towards her. She began to kiss me passionately with his full lips, her dark nipples long and perfect to the touch. I couldn’t resist taking them into my hands. He slowly began to open the front of my dress shirt with her long, feminine fingers, the puzzling, maddening smile never leaving his face. I felt as though he were challenging me to make love to him, to take her in my arms and possess her. Her smile was pressing me to accept what I wanted, what I desired. I was utterly perplexed, repulsed and simultaneously wishing nothing more than to possess this man/woman. She was wrapping her arms around me and, as he did, I could feel her cock against my leg. She began kissing my chest and unbuttoning my pants, his hand having found the profound evidence of my passion within the folds of my trousers. The intoxicating sensation was not entirely unfamiliar, and as she took hold of my sex I saw the fleeting image of the day I insisted on making a man of my mistress.