Besieged: Stories from the Iron Druid Chronicles(53)
My lover, Flidais, tries to say is ironic, a kind of joke, but I am not understanding. So she shrugs and says, “Is Scottish,” which she says about everything I do not understand. But she also says this for things she does not want to explain. Like who invited her to bring me to Cuddle Dungeon: “Some Scottish lad.”
Is very confusing being old Slavic thunder god in modern world, but is good that there are new kinds of dungeons, I suppose. Is consistent with technology culture obsessed with upgrades. They upgrade everything now: even dungeons.
We join line in wet city of Edinburgh, down narrow cobbled alley between old brick buildings where there are stairs leading belowground. Man at front of line holds out hand, and Flidais gives him tickets she buy somewhere before. Man looks at me and laughs and says, “Ye have no fookin’ idea what you’re doing here, do ye?”
I point to downstairs door. “Am cuddling,” I say, and he laughs again and says stream of words in Scottish accent so thick I am not understanding.
I ask Flidais as we go down, “Why does small man laugh at me? What is going to happen?”
“I don’t know, Perun,” she says. “That’s why I’m here. I want to be surprised. I want something new.”
She is old Irish goddess of the hunt, maybe older than me. We do not speak of our many years, of our boredom with routine. We seek new experience instead and see if humans can surprise us. Is very long battle, fighting boredom. Is why when Flidais saw me in leather shop in Prague with the Druid named Atticus she thought we should try leather for sexy times, and I agree very fast because is novelty for me. But leather clothings is only outward sign of a certain kind of play, Flidais tells me. There is rules and behaviors and many, many toys. All we have now is the clothes: We have leathers under long jackets that cover us up, and other peoples in line are covered up too.
I am hoping is much fun behind door. Already going down steps I feel more alive. Anticipation is sweet thing. I am wishing staircase is longer just so I can anticipate for longer time.
Door is metal and loud creaking on hinges. When we open we hear people laughing. Also screaming. Maybe some moaning too, and thumping music. Wall ahead is white and padded like marshmallow room. We have hallway to walk down, and lights get dim as we go. Bright near door, a bit darker down the hall. But wall stays white and fluffy on all sides.
Screaming and laughing get louder as we go, and Flidais looks at me with smile on face. She enjoys anticipation too.
We turn corner and find selves in another hallway going both directions. There are doorways but with no doors in them on either side. Is like maze.
“Which way?” I ask, and Flidais shrugs again.
Choice is made for us when very large and broad man emerges from doorway to our right and charges, yelling battle cry. Is bigger than me, and is naked except for black mask around eyes and black leather around groin. His body is oiled and jiggles very muchly, and his arms spread wide like he is coming for crushing bear hug. We run away but join the peoples we hear laughing. In place where good times are to be had, is fun to be chased and not know what is happening.
Flidais darts around corner into twisty passage and I follow. After three turns it is dead end and we turn around, smiling. We take two or three steps back the way we came, sneaky moving, thinking maybe running oily chubby man will pass us by. But then he turns corner and crashes into fluffy wall, out of breath.
“There you are!” he says, straightening up. He does not have Scottish accent. Sounds more American. “Thought you’d lose me, eh?” Flidais giggles at that. If she had not wanted him to see us, he would not have. “Why’d you run? I just wanted to dance for you.” He makes oontz-oontz-oontz noise, puts hands behind head, and thrusts hips in time to his own music. His flesh ripples and flaps around and is so unexpected we lose our good manners. Flidais laughs so hard she sinks to floor, unable to stand, clutching her middle and her eyes all scrunchy and teary at the edges. I am almost same, roaring louder than I have in many years: I have to stagger back and lean against wall for support. I know Flidais has never laughed so hard since being with me. Cuddle Dungeon is already worth price of admission.
Funny dancing man finally has mercy and stops thrusting hips. “Right,” he says, smiling very big smile at us. He is not offended by our laughs; is what he wants. He takes couple of deep breaths. “I’m Paul. I’m going to be your guide and take you to the shop in case you need any last-minute items, and then you can go from there to the main play area. While we walk I can go over the house rules—even if you already know them—because failure to abide by them will get you thrown out.”
We flick tears away from eyes and thank him, and I hold out hand to Flidais to help her to her feet. She is wearing tight thing called corset under her coat and cannot bend so well.
“Please lead on, Paul,” she says.
“Right! This way, please.” Once we turn corner behind him, he says important rule speech from memory over his shoulder and is very serious now, no more smiles.
“Consent and safety are of prime importance in everything we do here. Do not touch anyone without their express verbal consent or you will be asked to leave. Likewise, if someone touches you without your express verbal consent, report it and they will be asked to leave. Do not talk to a sub without their domme’s permission. Watch all the scenes in the dungeon you like, but if you want to play yourself and be watched in turn, make sure you have your safe word settled and, of course, red is the universal one. If either of you says that, a dungeon master will come to make sure everything’s okay.”