A Night at Bar Sinister
6-26-2k10 by CJ Davidson It was now dusk and night was absorbing the remnants of the day. A gorgeous hue of orange and gray descended upon the valley as Bobby and I headed for dark Hollywood, through the Cahuenga pass and on to the infamous, Bar Sinister.
Surprisingly, Bobby was eager to return to Bar Sinister, as I thought the industrial grind would be too much for him. Bobby’s music was good and well written, falling somewhere between Henry Rollins and Gordon Lightfoot with a nasty toothache.
Bobby and I arrived at Boardners around 8pm, but not after being conned by a “Free Parking” sign as we approached Vine off Hollywood Blvd. We strolled only to find it was $10.00 to park, just like everywhere else.
“So it’s a lie.” Bobby said backing out carefully through the tight alley.
“Welcome to Hollywood, Bobby.” I replied with a smile.
We parked on Cherokee, walked toward Boardners and across Cherokee. I blew a massive hit through my inconspicuous one-hitter and exhaled dissipating a blue-tinted smoke into the infant evening.
“Ok. I work with her and she’s convenient.” He reasoned. “And I haven’t been laid since November. Ok?”
“Wow! You’re bummin’, dude!” I replied. “But you’re not supposed to date people from work.”
“I know.” He said quietly “But she seems like a nice, open-minded girl.”
I looked towards Bar Sinister and smiled. “We shall see, Bobby. We shall see.”
We walked in and met Meg. She was placid, thin and flat, but with a feisty personality that would engage my subversive drivel for the next 30 minutes or so until we entered the venue. It was only after I told her all religion was “bullshit” and I’d had I enough of the Catholic scene and all their pedo-priests. She started getting aggravated. Bobby was chuckling while I poured it on.
We entered Bar Sinister a little after 10:30, as Meg was beginning to get her fill of me rather quickly. We walked through the main entrance while a blast of incense and energy zapped my being. My body lifted off the ground and into a sacred realm of mystical pan-sexuality, A vivid voyeurism swept across my psyche as the multitude of finely costumed freaks danced around me. Leather-bound asses and tightly-clenched cleavage scurried against my tender flesh as I neared for the Well of Serenity, overflowing with passionate smoke.
Passing my claw through the sacred fog, I envisioned my surroundings manifested within a world of faeries, gremlins, phantoms, killer klowns, geflings, and elves passing by on their way to wherever the hell they were going. Bobby and Meg were oblivious to me now. I was now spiritually complete and happily lost within the wonder and magick of Bar Sinister. It had been too long, much too long.
I caught up with Meg and Bobby and we walked upstairs to the BDSM room where our new friend Phoenix. A suave, sophisticated gent, Phoenix explained the new arrangements and modifications of the venues sic I was there last time. I liked the way the bar was pushed back to the wall, giving the crowd more room to rub against its hot, sweaty self during the heat of “deep-night” gyrations.
I pointed out the many kink-toys and furniture available for the fetish players later in the evening and the floggers, stopping Meg in her tracks.
“Those are really floggers?” Meg asked?
“As real as you I.” I said petting them with respect and care. “Perhaps you’ll be around later for a demonstration, Meg? I’m told I’m rather gifted.”
She smiled with discomfort and disdain as we went downstairs to the beautifully lit bar. Next to the bar were the magnificent winged fem Seraphs, clad daintily in fetish attire, thigh-high plastic boots, fishnets, and those hot, tight corsets protruding female breastage to a massive proportion. Jiggling and churning of their mortal flesh brought erratic sensations throughout my glandular. I was now fixated upon a red-headed beauty with a luscious cleavage that seemed to bounce in my explicit direction.
As I struggled to avoid an embarrassing erection, she switched dancing spots with the pasty angel across the room. It appears I failed at avoiding embarrassment. Perhaps she moved away because I was staring a hole into her. Perhaps not.
It was probably only 30 minutes into the Seraph dances that Meg bailed.
“I gotta go.” She said, looking at her watch. It was only around ten-thirty as I was tipped off by the bar-tender that Tricia Labelle would be rising at 11, so I was watching the clock rather closely. Bobby explained to me through the maddening rage, but I already knew what was going down. The woman was tough to take as much as she did. I give her high marks for intestinal fortitude. I thought she’d buggout long before that.
“…walk her to her car…back in a bit”” Bobby yelled. I nodded and continued to absorb the sweet, sweaty necromancy pouring into my renewed flesh. Meg or Bobby didn’t matter anymore. My body was no longer an issue, nor was mortality, as I had now boarded a barge upon the River Styx. I was now packed heartily amongst a butt load of specialized humanoids, intricate vampires and assorted freaks floating upon a film noir junket powered by dark, organic voltage.
The pictures of past nights of horror flashed ominously behind the DJ, displaying the beautiful inhabitants of Bar Sinister, mixing, fantastic images, sultry bodies and the perfect laser lighting, the entire dance floor was ablaze with the usual high-energy hoofers. Ahh! The hypnotic dancing! Gyrations of the highest caliber, glorifying the immortal rave and the non-ending gathering, no speaking is required. But wait. I have to find Tricia. The bartender tipped me off she was having din-din. I pondered who her victim was.
Bobby and I walked next door to Baordner’s as I dropped my envelope of info to the bartender in that establishment. The show was starting as we had to hurry back to Underland and find an acceptable place to stand..
“Could you make sure Tricia gets this, please?” I said, handing over our compacted Press-kit and assorted ideas.
Bobby was fiddling with his Blackberry as he pulled me over to talk about Meg.
“First she says she likes it here then she says she has to go” Bobby said reading her text messages reflect off his eyes. “She shows classic signs of Bi-Polar disorder. Perhaps I should avoid her.”
“Perhaps you should. I saw that long ago.” I said, frankly. “I could see it when she started breathing heavy during my description of Thelema. Come on the show is starting.”
We left Boardners and pushed our way through the crowd just as SERAPHIM SHOCK was just setting up. The lead singer, Charles Edward began his mighty roar and the band blazed our MASSIVE high energy and muscular images that frightened away all inhibitions. The sound was somewhere beyond industrial, mixing a touch of fifties vocals, 80’s techno and modern gothic intensity. I was most impressed with the dynamic rhythms, the rough magnitude and sheer depths of their ingenious sets played that wonderful night.
The house rocked up and down, left to right and every which way but loose, grinding methodically into my cerebellum and through my spine. I was now in hell and I was enjoying it thoroughly! Every set they played made my flesh and bones shake and shudder with melodic pleasure, as close to an orgasm I could get in public without messing myself up and ending up in the stripey hole.
“The lead singer is quite buff, but looks terrifying.” Bobby screamed into my ear.
“I think that’s the idea.” I screamed back”
“Meg keeps sending me weird text messages.” He yelled into my ear.
“I would delete her, Bobby.” I yelled back. “Lots of pretty girls here to talk to.”
My tranny friend Rikki was there as well, puffing it up in the front row. I knew exactly where to spot her since she follows the same pattern she always does; camping out in the front row as usual in front of the band with the luxury of sucking down that scrumptious tar and nicotine. I’d known Rikki for over eleven (11) years now and we both faced and conquered challenges throughout the 2000’s. It’s amazing how chunks of your life flash by when a certain individual steps back in. Rikki was looking sharp as ever in her blond, poufy wig, cheap heels and white feathers.
I reached down from my perch and stopped her in her tracks, giving her a big hug.
“You look wonderful, dear!” I said looking into her big green eyes.
“Hey CJ!” She said with her big bright smiling made up face. “You’re looking good too! I haven’t been here in a while.”
“Me either. Great band huh?” I yelled.
“Yeah! It was great! I’ll be back in a bit!” she scurrying off with someone or something.
It was about this time Bobby held up his Blackberry with a message:
“Gotta be at work early tomorrow. Is it ok to leave now?”
Of course it wasn’t! Bobby was tearing me away from hell and back to the dreaded normality of vanilla America. I was home and I was most comfortable in the mausoleum of music and myth.
But alas…
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.” Robert Frost popped into my head as I took one, last, deep breath of Bar Sinister.
“Ok Bobby. Let’s go.” I said, turning to the door.
The evening was now complete, as I stepped from the time continuum and back into the dream.
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