Recently, I watched “Labyrinth” again for the thousandth or so time because it’s such a great movie. Aside from gawking at David Bowie’s titillatingly tight trousers and singing along with every song, I had a flash of pervy revelation. That scene with all the hands as Sarah falls into the oubliette. Uhuh.
The Fella and I have been binge-watching ‘Sons of Anarchy’ lately. I’m enjoying it very much, the plot twists are clever and the characters are complex. It’s violent and pretty fucking harsh in places, and that’s what triggered this blog post.
Without going into detail that might reveal spoilers, there are some scenes of nonconsensual sexual activity, quite graphically depicted. Gratuitously, one might say, considering that this is fiction and not documentary; what is the necessity to portray for entertainment the awful things that people might do to each other? Perhaps it’s for titillation – and this is where the title of this post comes in for me.
Today’s the day. After weeks of careful negotiations over DMs and cups of tea, detailed planning – most of which I was not party to by my own request – and shivering anticipation, we three have arrived at the place and time of our assignation.
I close the door of the hotel room and lean against it, kicking off my kitten-heel shoes with a sigh. Conferences are always so exhausting once the high of getting my geek on wears off. My mind is racing; notes to make, follow-up emails to send, ideas, conversations, names, faces…it’s all too much to cope with right now. I reach for my phone and text Him.