"I am really going to do this...Really?!" I say to myself as I am close to pressing the 'Enter' button on the totally black and low tech looking website. The website looks as if it hasn't been updated since the late 90's, but it has written postings from just yesterday. There are no photos except of a brightly colored red door with a curly whip knocker. The picture looks so kitschy that I wonder if it is actually from an artist's imagination and drawn in ink, but no it is a photo. There is a time and date stamp on the photo, it's too small to be seen but it has numbers and a few letters close together in perfect date spacing. There isn't too much writing on the postings. Just a lot of mention of acronyms and mention of a 'scene' and 'play'. It reminds me of theatre class in high school.
I look thoroughly, scanning my eyes as rapidly as they can go while absorbing information, to find the membership button. I find a contact link instead. I click it and it opens up my email application, I try to read the 'To' email address but it is just a long series of unmemorable numbers. I start to sweat and feel the urge to pee. I take a deep breath and think very hard about what I want to write. I thought that being as honest as possible was the best choice, no matter how pathetic I sound. I poised my hands above my computer keyboard, I freeze and gulp loudly. I close my eyes so tightly shapes dance on the inside of my eyelids. I open them with a newfound determination. I type so fast I feel like my fingers will cramp.
A few days later I received an email from the website. They send me a list of questions and ask me to send a copy of my records (birth certificate and license) to a certain address. The email says that after I send in my records and answer all the questions, then I will be invited to meet with one of the managers of the "club" then a few days later I will be contacted by email and told whether I am accepted into the club or not. Reading all of this makes me feel shaken.
After going through the interview process where a big buff and well spoken older man asked me questions about my intentions, my sexual experiences and if I would be willing to do literally whatever they asked of me. I chose to comply...and I am now a member of Memoria.
I tried to find a nice suit to wear. No blends of fabric for me. Just pure silk. When I looked in the mirror I was proud of my appearance, I actually smiled and winked when I finished styling my hair. A part of me was saying: "You are wearing the wrong thing! Everyone else is going to be casual, you fool!". But, the other part of me was saying: "You are dressed to impress, my man. You'll knock their socks off.". I know I should have met the two sides in the middle, but I wanted an excuse to wear a suit. So here I am with an envelope that says: "Only authorized personnel may open" and now I am standing in front of the famous red door with the curly whip knocker. I close my eyes and knock with my fist as hard as I can, partly because I want to feel a bit of pain on my fist and partly because the knocker looks too fancy to be used. A young man in his late 20s with jeans and a shirt answers the door. He's chewing gum. He's the epitome of casualness. The fucking mascot. I feel sweat trickle down the back of my neck. "The envelope." He demands more than asks. I hand it over as quickly as I can. He opens it and reveals a red and orange ticket that looks a bit like a flame. He holds it up to the light from the street lights and clicks his teeth. "Ok, you're good. He opens the door all the way for me to enter. I step in, trying to act as intrepidly as possible. The room I enter has a desk and has wall to wall red velvet. Reminds me of cake. And a fun house. "Go ahead and enter. Just warning you, it's a bit overwhelming" He says as he returns to the magazine on his desk. I nod at him. I just notice there is someone speaking on a microphone. My nervousness is hitting the roof. I try to swallow all the saliva that has poured into my mouth all of the sudden.
The room is huge, and the ceiling looks like it reaches up to 5 levels. This feels like an indoor arena. But, the real attention grabber is the big roulette-style wheel in the right side of the huge room. But, I notice something strange, instead of numbers, there are words, like "Hogtie", "Fist", "Suck", and "Whip". I have a vague idea of what those could mean and it finally hits me that I don't know if I can handle all of this.
I consider leaving, but remember all the trouble I made trying to enter this place. I then, notice all the scantily clad men and women in the room. Especially the men. There are all kinds of men, short, tall, black, white, dirty-looking, clean-cut. It doesn't matter. And they are all either naked or wearing some type of codpiece, speedo-looking thing. I look down at myself. I am beyond overdressed. The women however are in normal clothes. T-shirts and jeans like the guy in the entrance, or they are wearing all black bodysuits. But, they are not showing a lot of skin.