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 | Red Light District....
entry by Brat Bondage
11/22/2004 3:37 AM
| I wander.
Passing the copious amounts of neon sleaze, I gaze upon the signs promoting their tawdry wares. Hot pink strips, of illuminated smut, beckon the passer-by inside. Enticing. Like a tongue gleaming, between cherry waxed lips, or the subtle hint of exposed flesh. Even at this late hour, both the lonely and perverse rummage, though the multiple stacks of books and videos. Whether fueling fantasies, or quenching desires, their's is a tragic existence. Lived on the fringe of society, and under the cover of darkness.
Continuing on, I happen upon a Gentleman's Club. Shameless in their exploitation, the squalid, Hedonistic nature of their displays, are only counter-balanced, by the stainless steel radiance, of their metallic backdrops. Gleaming with brilliance, I can see my reflection contain therein, as the hypnotic aroma of drink and perfume eminates from within. Cascading over me, in waves of scented seduction. Pulling me. Tugging me. Threatening to drag me, kicking and screaming, into a world in which I do not belong. Of seamen stained chairs, and dimly lit corridors. Lost ambition, and lowered inhibitions.
Overting my gaze, I press forward.
Nearing the end of the block, a sihlouetted figure leans against streetlamp. Scantly clad, her white synthetic clothing barely covers her toned physique, and the translucent nature of her eyes, is made all the more beautiful, by their abject desperation. As our eyes momentairly meet, I can't help but notice the odd dynamic at work within her. While possessing a physique and demeanor, that exudes sexuality and perpetuates lustful thought, contained within that steeley exterior, are the insecurities of a lost soul. Constantly in flux, and screaming out to be held. In short, I don't know what she needs more: to be hugged, or to be had. And I'm not sure she does, either.
Rounding the corner, I arrive at my destination.
With the opening of a door, I am greeted with a sonic assault. Of pulsating bass rhythms, and inebriated laughter. The cracking of whips, and gutteral moans. With that I realize....
It's good to be home, again.
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