It wasn't until I was already on the inside before I'd ever heard of the Lilac Society. The real one or the imagined one, the actual affiliation or the stuff of urban legend. And yes, there is a real society. Not as widespread or as sinister as it's often thought to be, but it is quite real. I was inadvertently enlisted before I began to know the stories, the myths, the exaggerations. In general, those on the inside don't like to talk about the society when asked. That tends to feed the myths. Everyone who mentions it to me, unaware of my connection, seems to think it's a cult. I just laugh to myself. Perhaps they're right. But I think the reason no one ever wants to talk about it, from a position of personal experience, isn't so sinister as is often imagined. There's no rule against it. We're not the Illuminati. It's just that it's hard to know where to begin. If you're not the type who would be drawn to such a thing, I don't even know how to start. The experience just doesn't translate. That does leave the whole thing open to outsiders' imaginations, vast conspiracies, the dread, the uncanny, the weird. But the reality, I'm afraid, is somehow far more strange, and at the same time, far more beautiful. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'd almost finished two years of college before I got up the nerve to tell anyone about my true desires. This was a shock because I'd entered college as a freshman swearing I would dedicate myself to finding a way, any way, of living them out. I kept putting it off, kept finding a way to chicken out, for nearly two whole years. My freshman year, I lingered over the listings in the back of the local alt-weekly, occasionally dialing the numbers on one of the ads, never getting up the nerve to hit the green call button. I browsed websites, and I nursed my fantasies. At the start of summer, I sulked home. Returning my sophomore year, I was almost resigned to defeat. I'd occasionally browse the web, or linger over the ads, but I could never work up the nerve to go meet anyone.
Spring was in the air on campus when, drunk at some party, after a year and a half of repressing my fantasies, keeping everything to myself, something just slipped. Too many beers, of course. Everything loud, everything with that hazy, buzzy edge to it, hunkered in a corner on a couch, I just blurted out to a couple of friends - one male, one female - my deepest secrets. I don't even remember how the subject came up. I just remember suddenly feeling embarrassed, but knew I'd be unable to stop talking once I started.
My friends both got a big smile on their face, while I told them that I'd always harbored fantasies of being a woman's slave, serving her, obeying her, kissing her feet, letting her punish me when I deserved it, going on and on about how these desires had been far stronger inside me than anything else all my life, and I just had to get up the nerve to go find some dominant woman. They were looking at each other, smiling, and I was almost too drunk to feel regret, but I could start to feel the beginnings of it creeping up on me, so to stave it off, I just kept talking. I filled in details, putting off the inevitable shameful comedown when I had to stop talking and they started their laughing, teasing, and whatever else was in store for me. Jessi smiled at Ryan, Ryan at Jessi, as I ran my mouth, now feeling the regret full force, so I wound down my femdom fantasy spiel, sputtering to a stop, face in my hands.
Peeking over my fingers, I braced myself. What came next was completely unexpected, and somewhat bewildering. Ryan just shook his head, smiling, as if thinking 'Dude, whatever, if it makes you happy, man.' But Jessi, she was biting her lips, with a knowing smile, holding something back. She pointed, as if she were going to speak, then stopped herself, then she pointed at me again, hesitated, then finally spoke.
"You...yeah, Chris...you need to...oh my god. You need to talk to Lauren!"
"Lauren?"
"Yeah, Lauren. We'll - we'll talk later."
With that, Jessi changed the subject. Mysterious! I can't for the life of me remember anything about the party after that moment. My mind was, to say the least, elsewhere. I lost track of both Ryan and Jessi, then stumbled home.
This interaction dominated my thoughts. Who was Lauren? Why did Jessi's face light up with a curious recognition at my mention of these desires? That look - what was that look all about? I saw Jessi in class the next day, but was too mortified to bring up the conversation again. Regardless, it was all I could think about, in class or anywhere else.
A few days later, Jessi crossed paths with me on campus. I said hello nonchalantly, still too scared to raise the subject. I just made small talk, and pretended that the conversation had never happened. I wanted to ask her all about what she had been talking about, when we would "talk later," but I was scared. Jessi raised the subject for me.
"Ready to meet Lauren?"
"The mysterious Lauren?"
"She said she'd meet with you. Hold on."
She pulled out her phone, and sent a few texts while I waited, suddenly even more nervous. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I felt exposed. I was embarrassed now that Jessi knew this secret about me. But out here, in the middle of campus, a crowd of students walking every way around us on the wide path, while she texted about me with someone I didn't know, supposedly about this, well, exposed wasn't strong enough to describe what I was feeling. I wanted to vomit. I felt light-headed. Had that conversation been such a good idea? Jessi interrupted my thoughts.
"She's at the library. She said she'll meet you right now. Let's go."
I followed along, extremely anxious. What was happening? It was as if I didn't have a choice. No asking me "So do you want to meet her?" and no explanation of who she was. Just "let's go." So why, I wondered, was I just following along, doing as I was told? It was as if I couldn't help it. I didn't know what to do, and couldn't begin to think of what to ask, so I just went through the motions, following Jessi's lead.
We walked about halfway across campus, into the library, up to the third floor study area, where everyone was spread out at tables, working on homework and projects and gossip. Suddenly I felt Jessi pull on my wrist.
"This way!"
Jessi approached a table, and I followed nervously behind. Could this be her? The young woman sitting by herself at the table, studying, looked too cute to be any sort of female domination authority on campus. I was still wound tight with nerves, and half confused, and overly self-aware in the crowded public space, especially if this was about what I thought this was about, when we stepped up to the table and I took a good look at her for the first time.
She was probably a freshman. This young woman had a pale face, extremely pale, with blonde hair. I was guessing already that she was a rich girl; already I was imagining her in a sorority. I felt bad immediately for mentally typecasting her, but she just had that look about her. She worked on her studies as I admired her cute little bob haircut and tried to read her t-shirt from some campus event. We were standing far enough from the table that I could see beneath it, noticing her black running shorts and teal-trimmed tennis shoes with ankle socks. Still ignoring us, she scratched her tiny little nose. I took a deep breath. Jessi spoke.
"Chris, this is Lauren. She has agreed to speak with you, OK?"
The girl spoke, without even looking up at me.
"Sit down."
I felt Jessi's hand on my arm. A quick whisper, directly into my ear.
"Good luck."
Before I could even react, Jessi was gone.
I pulled out the chair, and sat. Lauren continued to work on whatever she was working on, ignoring me. I sat and waited. I looked at Lauren, this time trying not to stare too much. She was attractive, but not some sort of knockout that my friends and I would notice on campus. Just incredibly cute. When I had been watching her as Jessi and I approached, I had noticed that her toes touched the floor, but not the heels of her shoes. Admittedly, the library chairs were a bit tall, but still, Lauren was very short. That fact seemed odd to me for somebody who was, I was guessing, supposed to be dominant - I didn't know exactly why, but it did.
Lauren didn't look up often, but the few times she did, it appeared that she had light blue eyes. I didn't know where to look. I tried looking down at my hands for awhile. Then I looked around at other people, but that felt sort of rude, so I looked at Lauren for a bit more. It only took a second or two before I felt as if I were staring, so I looked back down at my hands. I'd been waiting for at least ten minutes. Lauren hadn't spoken a word, or even acknowledged me. I felt even more strange than before.
Another minute went by, then another. And another ticked past painfully slowly. After maybe five more, Lauren spoke. She slid one of her books diagonally across the table toward me.
"Page 137 through page 144. Take this to the copy room. Make a quality copy of each of them. You do have your Student ID with you, correct?"
"Yes, I..."
