I'm the One That I Want by Margaret Cho

began an intense rape scene, pulling her legs apart and roughly inserting a bright orange dildo that looked like a safety cone into her vagina.
    Jadine and Ian ran out of the party. As they went by, I think I heard her mumble a Doppler-effected “Really exhausted, gotta go . . .” but she was moving too fast. I couldn’t move. I immediately thought I should try to help this woman, and I couldn’t understand why nobody was helping her. I thought I should call the police. Then, I remembered where I was.
    Almost immediately, everyone around me, all the SM wallflowers, sprung into action. The ice was certainly broken! An older man in a leather codpiece came over and sat by me on the bench. “Don’t you work at Stormy Leather?”
    “Yes. I do. Hi. I’m Margaret.”
    “Yeah. Do you remember me? You sold me this jockstrap.”
    He casually unsnapped the front of his jockstrap to reveal his soft cock and balls, nesting in the fishnet underneath like a bunch of grapes. I tried not to jump up, thinking that the proper etiquette here would be to act calm and interested. “Oh. That’s, uh, that is, just fine .”
    “I’m here with my wife. Maybe you’d like to play with us? You could whip me if you’d like.”
    “Uh. Thanks. But I’m watching my friend’s purse. I can’t right now.”
    In the middle of the party there was an old man, around 80 or so, in leather chaps and gray handlebar mustache like an octogenarian Village Person, strapping a young boy to a table. He was applying a sewing implement, that spiked-wheel thing that resembles a pizza cutter, directly onto the boy’s massive erection. The dangerous-looking wheel left behind tiny drops of blood all along the shaft. Ow ow ow ow ow ow.
    It was shocking, the rape, the blood, the violence, the SM theme music (“Whip It,” “Master and Servant”), yet I didn’t leave. I couldn’t leave. It was so fascinating. It wasn’t exactly a turn-on for me, but everybody else was having such a good time, and so involved in what they were doing, the feeling was contagious. I saw that there was so much more to sex than just doing it with the lights off and hoping that you didn’t get pregnant.
    A small crowd gathered around a threesome, a woman, a man, and a transvestite. The woman and the transvestite wore matching blue corsets, and the man was in a leather codpiece. The woman was suspended in a leather hammock and she was lying with her back against the man. She leaned her head back and looked deeply into his eyes while being vaginally fisted by the transvestite. The whole picture was quite romantic. There seemed to be so much affection between those three, and even though they were being watched by many, it still seemed intensely private, and completely beautiful. I must be pretty jaded, when seeing something like that makes me go “Awww . . . ,” but it was something that made me understand that love is everywhere, and takes many unexpected forms. Any kind of love is fine, it’s your hate you have to watch.
    The party was well under way, and I noticed the woman who had been the victim of the rape scene at the beginning of the evening was now walking around collecting cups and paper plates. Later, she was fast asleep in a dark corner, snoring like she was sawing logs.
    I ran into a drag queen acquaintance of mine named Nigel, and he strapped me to one of the crosses and put a scouring pad on my leg, but it was just funny, not sexy.
    It’s odd, but I always get recognized at the most inconvenient times. We went into the dungeon area, where there were people in cages, and one girl who was behind bars and tied up hopped over and said, “Hey! Aren’t you Margaret Cho?” I was excited, because it was early enough in my career that being recognized still felt like an accomplishment. But at the same time, it was kind of weird considering where we were. Besides, she was hog-tied!
    Suddenly it was late, and I was one of the last people to leave the party. I had had a