“Would you like to see my swing?”

It seemed a rather innocent question.  That it was asked by a gentleman of whom I had been forewarned was less so.  The others at the party nodded and marched en masse to the bedroom where the item in question apparently resided.

He wasn’t the brute that I had imagined from the lurid stories told of him.  He had a dimpled smile and sharp eyes that missed nothing.  And aside from a streak of exhibitionism and a tendency to use chatter as a diversion, there was an earnestness of character that was tremendously appealing.

I had met him the previous winter, at a party where the twenty-something men guzzled Red Bull and mourned their futures.  As the young men whined and stumbled about him, he maintained a remarkable poise, an aloofness that extended to not only the drunken kids but to his companions.  His girlfriend, an agreeable brunette with long hair and abundant cleavage, was especially solicitious of his comfort.  I watched as she tended him and was rewarded with resounding slaps on the backside.  It didn’t surprise me then when I overhead him discuss plans to build a dungeon in his basement.  In fact, it seemed fitting.

I couldn’t help but wonder as I was ushered into his bedroom months later, why he was eager to share something so intimate.  Was it pride or was he looking for approval?  He had a hard time concealing his enthusiasm as he hooked the last chain and let his prize dangle from the four posters of his enormous bed.   

It was like approaching a profane altar.  I looked around involuntarily, expecting to find vessels of holy water nearby.  It would take gallons to cleanse me of the impure thoughts that sprang to mind.  My cheeks flushed as he and his malleable companion happily shared details of their activities.  The room felt suddenly hot and oppressive, laced with an electricity that made my hair stand on end.

I threw back what was left of my drink and left immediately.  I wasn’t sure if it was the imposition or my own reaction that troubled me.  Regardless, it was easier -and far safer- to maintain my distance than to contemplate any explanation.



  1. "Sister" Sara Says:


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