Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Darklady's New Year's Eve Party

Last November, I attended my first Darklady party. It was a Halloween party, so I decided to attend in drag. (Post apocalyptic drag, at that.) I finally met the infamous and illustrious Darklady. I got to watch people having sex. I groped a pair of naked breasts. I sucked on a woman’s bare toes. In short, I had an absolute blast.

Once the party ended, my attention turned to her next little shindig. The New Year’s Eve party. I was looking forward to this more than Christmas. (And I LOVE Christmas.) It’s now January 7th, meaning that the party was a week ago. Which also means that this event report is something like six days later than it should be. Read on:

The Road to New Year’s Eve

I don’t drive for medical reasons. And I couldn’t afford insurance (or gas, for that matter) even if I owned a vehicle. So I am forever at the mercy of people heading in the direction I want to go (who also happen to have an open seat in their car).

None of the people who normally meet my transportation needs were available to me on New Year’s Eve. Everybody was already either going to other parties, or hosting their own. So I had no idea how I was getting to Darklady’s party. Really, I had no idea IF I was getting to Darklady’s party. The closest thing I had to transportation was Zorch’s very tentative offer to drive me TO the party if I could find somebody willing to take me home – because by time the party ended at 2:00, he planned on being far, far too drunk to drive anywhere.

So it’s the night before the party: I’m sitting in my chair, reading a book when my celphone rings. It’s 10:40 pm. I pick up the phone, and instead of seeing a name on the screen, I see a phone number. Which to my way of thinking – especially at 10:40 pm – means a wrong number. Sigh. I answer it anyway, saying, “Hello?” and the voice on the other end asks for me by name. Curious. I confirm that I am who she’s looking for, and then she says something that makes me realize that it’s the furthest possible thing from a wrong number. “This is Darklady. I’ve found you a ride.”

She goes on to explain that she received an email from a guy willing to pick me up on his way to the party mere moments earlier, so he should theoretically still be up and about for me to call and make all the necessary arrangements. She gives me his name and number, and I thank her profusely.

Then I call the person who has graciously offered to take me to the party and back to figure out the whens and wheres. He agrees to pick me up at my house, and now I’m definitely going to the party.

Darklady’s Dress Code

The party required me to be in either fetishwear (I have no fetishwear, and plan on an upcoming post asking how I’m supposed to get fetishwear when I’m both poor and a size 4/5X), formalwear (I don’t own a legitimate tuxedo), or costume. (Actually, I could have chosen to attend the party in street clothes, but that would have bumped the price of admission from $35 to $65 – not really a viable option for me, either.)

If I would have had a confirmed ride several weeks before party time, I would have adhered to the party theme (“Empire of Pleasure”) and done an Imperial costume. Specifically: Norton I, Emperor of America and Protector of Mexico. But there seemed no point in putting forth the costuming effort to try and deck myself out as the good Emp if there was a good chance that I wouldn’t be attending.

Street clothes and fetishwear were both out, so my plan was to go directly in between formal and costume. Several years ago – before it became my BDSM/kink scene name and persona – I used the name “Zeitgeist the Clown” on a badge at a sci-fi convention. Being allergic to greasepaint, I did my clownface via what amounted to a duct-tape bondage helmet (instructions can be found online, if you want to make your own). The final layer of duct tape was white, and mouth, nose, and eye ‘make-up’ was done with colored Sharpies.

But just wandering around in the mask wasn’t enough for me, so I pleaded with my aunt to make me an outfit to go with it. Which is where the tuxedo comes into play. Black, baggy clown pants (baggy on a 450 lb man – yikes!), and a black coat-with-tails with red lining. Stylish. Costume-quality tux. I also own a ridiculously tall stuffed top hat.

I ditched the baggy pants, opting instead for black pants that fit, wore a plain white t-shirt under red suspenders that matched the lining of the tux coat, the coat itself, the top hat, and white cotton gloves. I would be the epitome of goofy formal.

The Scenic Route

My ride to the party had medical problems. I have medical problems. So we entertained ourselves on the drive up by telling stories. Incompetent doctor stories, weird medication side effect stories, and the like. There’s nothing like bitching about health concerns and the medical industry. We could have kept it up for hours. And considering how lost we got, we almost did.

I’m starting to think that it’s me. That I’m some sort of navigation jinx. Because roughly 75% of the time that I go someplace that requires directions, my driver ends up getting lost. I’d blame the driver, if it was the same driver from trip to trip, but it’s not. Nobody who drives me anywhere can easily find the destination.

This guy was guaranteed of finding the venue with no problem because – in addition to having the directions – his celphone came with a GPS navigation package. Guess what piece of technology quit working about half-way there? We left in 2008, and at one point we were concerned that we wouldn’t arrive before it turned 2010.

The Final Draft of My Birthday Wish

Of course, we eventually did arrive. It was shortly after 8:00 when we parked. We went inside, and I waited my turn to gain official entry into the party. I dropped off my canned food donation for Esther’s Pantry (Darklady’s charity of choice – an organization providing services to people living with HIV/AIDS), which knocked $5.00 off my admission fee. Then I handed over my picture ID (to confirm my age, my name, and that I was who I said I was), my $30, and signed the waiver.

I was then handed a black ‘flowered’ (plastic) lei with plastic star-shaped medallion, which signified that my birthday was somewhere in December, January, or February (this party’s range for Birthday Wishes) and was therefore a “birthday boy”.

Back in my December 22nd post (entitled “December 23rd – Happy Birthday to Me”) I talked about being entitled to a birthday wish at Darklady’s party, and not knowing exactly what wish to make, or how to word any of the wishes that I had in mind. I’d sent the Dark One an email asking for advice about this. I told her what it was I really wanted, and asked her what she thought (and how she thought it should be stated).

After getting my birthday lei, I checked the list of birthday wishes (that was posted at various places throughout the venue), and saw that my specific wish ended up being that I wanted “a sexual mentor for the night”. Which is somewhere between ‘pretty much’ and
’exactly’ what I wanted. I was happy with the wording of the wish. Now the question was: Would anyone volunteer to help fulfill it?

Party Time

I did a quick walk-through of the ballroom, where the majority of the people were sitting at tables eating. (The previous party was $25 to get in, with an additional $10 if you wanted access to the buffet. This time it was $35, and the buffet was free. Kind of screwed me out of $10, as between being a picky eater and having a stomach that goes iffy at the mere thought of the weird spices in a ‘Mediterranean-style Buffet’, I didn’t eat anything from it.) After checking out the ballroom, I headed downstairs to the Rubitorium. (The Rubitorium being the area at a Darklady party where the beds are set up.)

Just like at the previous party, there were foam and air mattresses set up for the benefit of the horny partygoers. But there was one major difference that I could see. None of them were in use. Nobody was fucking. NOBODY. There was a small group of people just outside of the for-sex area chatting, but no sexual activity in progress.

Being about an hour and a half into the party at this point, I had to assume that it was just a lull in the fucking, and not a sign that it hadn’t yet begun. I figured that there were all sorts of wacky sexual shenanigans going on before I arrived that I simply missed witnessing.

So, on the one hand, I wasn’t able to sit down and watch live action porn at that precise moment. On the other hand, if I happened to find someone who was willing to play right away, we wouldn’t have to wait our turn for a bed to become available. So I went back upstairs with finding a partner in mind.

I wandered around the ballroom, doing some people watching. Keeping an eye out for someone that both turned me on and looked approachable. Many turned me on. Nobody really looked approachable. At least, not at the moment.

Most of the women I was interested in were eating. And I didn’t really want to try and seduce anybody who had a mouthful of food (and still half a plateful besides). The others were obviously paired up with somebody. Now I know that there are all sorts in attendance at a sex party. I’m familiar with the theory that just because two people are paired up in the ballroom doesn’t mean that they won’t separate to play with others down in the Rubitorium. And that “it doesn’t hurt to ask”. But I still have trouble approaching what looks like a couple and – completely ignoring the presence of the guy – asking the woman if she’d like to go do something.

As mentioned at the top of this post, when I attended Darklady’s Halloween party (aka “Darklady’s Harvest Festival of Hedonism Late Season Polyween Party”) I ended up sitting on the floor with the bare toes of an incredibly hot woman in my mouth. I’m going to refer to this woman as GWTISO (not her real name, not even her real scene name – it’s an acronym for “Girl Whose Toes I Sucked On”, if you’re curious.)

I sat down on one of the chairs lined up against the wall (standing for long periods of time isn’t my thing), and realized that GWTISO was seated at a table not ten feet away from me, eating a plateful of food from the buffet. Following the last party, I found GWTISO on FetLife and sent her a friend request, which she ignored. Despite that, I thought to myself that if nobody else wanted to let me grope, fondle, and whatnot them, I’d see if maybe I GWTISO was interested in a little dirty funtime. But that (I told myself) would come later. I wanted to ask other more likely people first.

After sitting and watching the cleverly costumed and scantily clad female members of the crowd for a little while, I got up and started wandering around again. I stopped and engaged in a few moments of small talk here and there. Several people complemented me on my wardrobe choices for the evening – especially the hat. (The hat was very popular.)

Not long after leaving the ballroom, I was standing around in the cloakroom area for awhile – again, just people watching and making conversation. Then I noticed that GWTISO was also in the cloakroom area, having her own conversations across the room from me. Huh.

I went into the bar to get a Dixie cup of water from the cooler before heading downstairs. When I got downstairs, I found GWTISO down there, talking to some people. (“She’s following me!” I thought to myself. Never mind the fact that she got downstairs ahead of me. She was still following me.)

This time a couple of the mattresses were in use, so I stopped for a few minutes to watch some foreplay-type activities that were in progress. But as I watched the two couples cavorting naked on the mattresses, I kept thinking about GWTISO. About how I intended to eventually proposition her, and about how she kept turning up everywhere I went.

Was it fate? Maybe it was. Maybe I was supposed to talk to her now. Maybe she was going to be the one.

What would I say. “Wanna go fuck?” Hmm . . . probably not. I sat there for a few moments, running possibilities through my head, finally deciding on, “I was wondering if – since so few mattresses are currently in use – you might be willing to come fool around with me?” The phrase ‘fool around’ seemed like the key. It was obviously sexual in this context, yet vague enough that I wasn’t trying to lock her into any specific act. It seemed ideal for negotiation.

I headed out of the Rubitorium proper into the rest of the downstairs area, where I saw that she was heading towards the stairs. Crap! I started to politely bulldoze my way through the groups of conversationalists standing in between me and her, breathing a sigh of relief when she stopped for a moment to talk to someone else before heading back upstairs.

I had escaped the small crowd and was heading toward her again when she finished her conversation and started to turn away. I motioned for her to wait. She stopped for a moment and looked directly at me. Then she spun on her heel and walked away from me, quickly disappearing up the stairs.

Huh. Maybe she wasn’t going to be the one. (That was my second thought. My initial thought was more along the lines of, “What a rude bitch!”)

I hung around downstairs for a few more minutes, then went back up again. I ran into Darklady, who also turned out to be a fan of my hat. And then I continued looking for potential playmates.

People I’d Like to Fuck (Or At the Very Least Fool Around With)

There was a woman that I’d had my eye on for awhile. She’d been sitting at a table with five other people every time I’d seen her. An equal split of males to females. Three couples? Maybe.

She had long, kinky/curly red hair (and I’ve got a thing for redheads) gathered into pigtails (I’ve got a thing for pigtails). Her shapely legs emerged from a short plaid skirt (I’ve got a thing for the schoolgirl outfit). She was toting around a stuffed gorilla. She had this great “I’m a little girl” vibe (I’ve got a thing for ageplay).

The guy that I figured she was with at the party was currently away from the table, and I figured that it was a ‘now or never’ moment. So, I went over to her table and said, “That’s a nice monkey you’ve got there.”

She smiled, then thanked me. Introduced me to the monkey (who apparently went “everywhere” with her). [If only I’d’ve know that the woman who was going to hit the largest number of my fetishes was going to be packing a stuffed monkey, I would have brought my plush gorilla along with me. Or if not the gorilla, then the hippopotamus. Or the turtle. A bear. Hell, even the walrus. Some kind of stuffed animal, at any rate.]

I then asked her if she’d like to go downstairs and fool around. “I don’t know,” she told me, indicated the empty chair where the person I’d been thinking of as her partner had been sitting. “I’ll have to ask permission.” I couldn’t tell it the permission she needed was from her partner in a semi-open relationship, or a submissive needing the go ahead from her dominant, or if the age play little girl had to ask ‘Daddy’ if she could go and play.

But then she said something in a subtly different conversational tone, almost like she was breaking character to pass on this next piece of information. “Also, I sometimes have problems touching people in public.” But she told me that she’d think about it, and get back to me. I told her that I’d be around, and was kinda hard to miss. I had meant that I was the 450 lb guy, but she just nodded and said, “I know – you’re the guy in the great big hat!”

I asked several other people if they wanted to fool around with me. Nobody did. They either told me that they were with somebody, or that they had agreed to meet somebody later on. One woman just said, “Sorry, no,” which I appreciated a lot more than one of the previous women who seemed like she was obviously making up an imaginary partner just to have the excuse. Good Lord and Butter, “Do you want to fool around with me” is a yes or no question. You don’t need to make up reasons why you don’t want to fool around with me.

If it weren’t for the fact that she was obviously very busy being the good hostess, I seriously think that I would have propositioned the Dark One herself. Darklady is HOT, and the fantasy of running my hands up underneath that lovely white renaissance-y dress she was wearing was incredibly arousing. But, since I doubted that her duties as hostess would have allowed her to take time out to romp around naked while I clumsily fumbled around with her genitalia, I didn’t even bother to ask.

At some point during the evening (I had accidentally left my celphone in the car, and had no way of knowing what time it was), Darklady went up on stage between songs – silencing DJs Darknezzz and Emok for the moment – and officially welcomed everyone to the party. She introduced the DJs, mentioned that the Naughty Barber was setting up downstairs for anyone who wanted their pubic region trimmed or shaved, made other miscellaneous announcements, and then introduced Dale the Nail who performed a brief non-religion specific invocation to help usher in the New Year and whatnot.

Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure what the invocation consisted of, because I got a stabbing pain in my head as he was beginning. Just my normal headache issues, but it kept me from concentrating on what was going on around me for a few minutes.

Anyway, once the music started up again, I sat down and people-watched for a little while, then headed downstairs to see what was going on in the Rubitorium.

As it turned out, very little was going on in the Rubitorium. A couple on one of the mattresses. Dale the Nail was set up with his guitar, providing background serenade for people to make sweet, sweet love to, and almost nobody was down there making sweet, sweet love to it. Sad.

The Naughty Barber had someone on is table, and when I took a closer look, it turned out to be GWTISO. Earlier I’d hoped to get her on a mattress and at the very least get my fingers in her pussy. That obviously wasn’t going to happen, but as the Naughty Barber was shaving off her pubes, I did get the opportunity to at least see the pussy in question. I watched the Naughty Barber in action (that’s far less rude than “I stood there staring at GWTISO’s pussy”, right?), and that was when Dale the Nail came to the end of one song . . . and then started singing “Halleluiah”.

So there I am, standing there watching GWTISO get her pussy shaved while Dale the Nail sings my favorite Leonard Cohen song. “This,” I thought to myself, “is a legitimate moment. This is just plain weird.”

I stayed downstairs until Dale reached the end of the lyrics and wound the tune to it’s end. Then I headed back up to the ballroom.

“Party” Time

I was sitting there people watching again when the twitching started. My left arm started to go. Sometimes the arm will twitch and spasm and that’s it. Other times, it’s the prelude to a full blown seizure. Which would it be this time? I didn’t like my chances. I was getting lightheaded, and my mouth was getting dry. These were not good signs.

Before long the twitching stopped. Which didn’t really mean anything in the long run.

I was sitting there trying not to do anything when Darklady came over and poked me in the stomach with her wand, telling me that if I was the Pillsbury Doughboy, I would have giggled when poked. I grinned and fake-giggled for her. She asked me if I was feeling all right (I apparently didn’t look it).

So I told her that I was currently locked in battle with myself, trying to keep a seizure from happening. She asked if there was anything she could do, and I gave her the basic rundown on what to do if I did end up seizing. (Basically, have someone keep me from banging my head against the floor, and NOT to call an ambulance.) She told me that she had to circulate, but that she’d be back in a little while to check on me.

I sat there continuing to try and avoid seizing. And the next thing I know I’m opening my eyes to discover that I’m laying on the floor with a whole lot of people looking down on me. Somebody holding my head down, someone else taking my pulse. A whole lot of pain in my head where I had apparently started banging it on the floor before anyone could get over to stop me.

The guy wearing Darklady’s ‘Security’ shirt was an off-duty paramedic, so I had to answer all sorts of paramedic questions. Once it was decided that I wasn’t going to spontaneously combust or anything, they sat me up, and then relocated me from the floor to a sturdy chair. I was brought ice water and a banana.

I drank the water, chewed the ice, and ate the banana. People periodically came by to check on me, make sure I didn’t need anything. The seizure apparently occurred at about 11:15 (according to other people’s watches), and I stayed in that chair until shortly after midnight.


And speaking of midnight . . .

Shortly before the changeover from 2008 to 2009, noisemakers were passed out. As were those plastic ‘popping’ streamer thingies. (Also glasses of cider, but I passed on that.) Someone shouted, “Ten . . . nine . . .” and the rest of us followed along until we all yelled “Happy New Year!”, blew our noisemakers, popped our streamers, and generally made lots of noise. People did the whole New Year’s Eve midnight kiss thing. Then ‘Auld Lang Syne’ was sung.

A lovely BBW came over and gave ma a New Year’s hug, squeezing her (fully clothed) tits against me (which was still very nice). And off in the midst of the crowd, I could see the Dark One herself going around dishing out midnight kisses of her own.

I got one, too. Darklady approached me, and told me that we needed to share a New Year’s kiss. I made a move to plant one on her cheek, but she said, “Uh-uh . . . you’ve got lips . . .” then proceeded to press hers against mine and kiss me.

There are techniques to sexual intercourse. I don’t know what any of them are, but I know that there are some. But they’re supplemental to the basics of the act. At it’s core, sex involves putting the penis in the vagina and pumping. My first time out, I should be able to do this, because sex is mating, and mating is hardwired into the brain. It’s a primal activity, and therefore something we know how to do by instinct.

Kissing, on the other hand, is something that we invented. I think that kissing was made up by a group of bored French people one afternoon. I’m not sure. But I don’t think that instructions for the smootch are genetically encoded in everybody.

Sex is something that I can probably pick up the finer points of as I go. Kissing is something that I’m simply clueless at. I do not know how to kiss. The most self-conscious I ever was with CJ was when my mouth was on hers. Until I figure out what the Hell I’m supposed to do with my lips and tongue and stuff, I’d really rather avoid the kissing thing altogether.

And there I was, mouth-to-mouth with Darklady. Her lips on mine. Her tongue in my mouth. (Her tongue running the landscape of my broken and half-missing teeth.) My tongue trying to work it’s way into her mouth, because I had to do something kiss-like rather than just stand there like an idiot. This was DARKLADY we’re talking about here. I don’t want to look like a complete moron in front of Darklady.

I think that if I would have been expecting the liplock, I might have prepared some kind of tactics. But I haven’t kissed anyone since the 20th century, and wasn’t any good at it then. Lack of practice hasn’t improved me.

Just a Little Over Half a Party

The party ran from 7:00 pm until 2:00 am. Seven hours total. I was there from just after 8:00 until almost 12:30 when my ride decided that it was time to leave. Four hours or so.

My ride said that he needed to go because he was getting tired, and having medical issues, but I suspect his reasoning was more along the lines of having heard that I’d been having medical issues.

The trip home was uneventful. Well, uneventful unless you count getting lost again. Or almost getting into accidents. (Happy New Year’s, you crazy-assed drunk driving sons of bitches!)

I was just as virginal when I left the party as I was when I had arrived. Not only did I still have my virginity, but I hadn’t done any fooling around with anyone. The only action I got all night was the kiss from Darklady. Which was still overall a good thing, because while kissing = bad, physical interaction with Darklady = good. But still . . .

If I had known how the party would turn out for me, I think that I would have just stayed home. Saved the $40 ($30 to get in, $10 chipped in for gas), not banged my poor sore noggin on the hard wood floor, and not gotten my hopes up for some kind of sexual interaction that didn’t happen before I had to leave the party an hour and a half early.


The next Darklady party is her annual Masturbate-a-Thon party in May. At this point in time, it is my intention to go to this. It is my fear, however, that I will send her an email asking to have my name added to the list, only to have her reply with a “Nope. You can’t come to any more of my parties.”

I’ve notices a tendency for people to be generally ambivalent toward me until I have a seizure in front of them. Once that happens, it often shifts from ambivalence to “we don’t want your kind ’round here”.

Time will tell, I suppose.

No comments: