“I ache for the touch of lips dear, but much more for the touch of your whips dear. You can raise welts like nobody else …” Tom Lehrer
Have kilt, will travel.
It started in the Authors’ Lounge at the London Book Fair a couple of years back. Feet sore, and ready for a coffee, I found a space at a table.
I took the weight off with a big sigh. In moments I was in conversation with an attractive woman, a successful author as it happens. We chatted about this and that and she invited me to meet her publisher. Great idea. Opportunity beckoned.
Little did I know my experience was about to widen …
Down the aisles
We walked down many aisles searching for the stand. Finally, in a far corner, there it was… OMG …
Remember the old line, that’s a nice outfit you’re almost wearing? I gazed at six-packs, cleavages, buttocks, thighs and other exposed acres of firm flesh — nothing improper you understand, just book covers and posters. In fact, I can’t think why I walked into the column supporting the stand.
After a brief introduction to the boss, I promised to drop by next day for a coffee and chat with the team. My education on erotic literature, whilst far from complete, was about to get a boost.
Back at the stand
The following morning, they were ready for me. Imagine this Scottish author, a son of the manse, standing there in his kilt, black socks, black shirt. If nothing else, I stood up for mankind as the only male on the stand … and firmly in the cross-hairs, as I was about to discover … talk about lads and lashes …
There were two or three editors, a couple of authors and the publisher talking … just for me, I suspect, after some invisible director bellowed action in a voice only they could hear.
Lamb to the slaughter
First they talked about the art of making a person blush. Hmm that sounds like an interesting piece of psychology, I thought– wrong – they weren’t talking about using words to achieve a rosy tint. No, they meant techniques for spanking others with implements, you know: paddles, cats o’ nine tails, whips, lashes, rods, twigs, belts, straps, rulers – I could go on – to create a glow.
… a blush to your cheeks
I worked hard to look comfortable–and not blush–as they discussed the latest apparatus. My innocence protected me as I heard of techniques to raise a corporeal flush without breaking the skin: flick, swipe, swish, stroke … amazing; the appliance of a light (?) punishing science between consenting adults. It was all about pain and of course gain for some people. Is there a PC term? Inflictor/Inflictee? Whackor/whackee?
My hand must go up here, sorry, no rudeness intended. I knew nothing before I went to the stand. Now, my awareness is greater and my knowledge increased …perhaps even unbeatable.
The women I met were pleasant and mischievous. Did I bolt? No, of course not, I believe I left with dignity … I’m sure the chuckles I heard came from a nearby stand.
One thing I have to say, I’ll never slap my knee, stroke a cat or strike a golf ball without new trains of thought springing, unbidden, to mind.