Laurie leads Oscar down to his dungeon to three mystery doors and one hell of a centrepiece.
Oscar B.A. Part 25
Laurie’s dungeon was nothing like I’d imagined.
Following him into a small, two-person elevator hidden by tall, heavy curtains against the long hallway wall, I pictured black leather and dark rooms.
Dim lighting and industrial style. Concrete and exposed brick painted black. Black, waterproof plastic padding wipe clean.
Chains. Giant dispensers of lube. Condoms in a bucket. Chlorine on the air.
But no, this so-called dungeon was a million miles from the stereotype I had in mind.
Out from the elevator was a narrow corridor lit by expensive in-floor up-lighting that led, after only a few paces, to a wide-open, round room with long, white, ceiling-to-floor curtains covering the walls.
The floor was wooden but sealed, stained and polished with a light grey hue, and in the centre of the space, was a slightly raised circular platform.
All around the platform were comfortable and stylish recliners, presumably for break taking and refreshing, much like you’d find in a health club. Sporadically between a few seats were little tables with little buzzers, no doubt for calling in big masked butlers.
In lieu of a sky light was a large halo of bright white strip lighting, assumedly designed to simulate day light, complementing the up-lighting spanning the room’s circumference.
In fact, the only thing that seemed to fit the picture in my head, albeit painted white, was a ceiling of exposed, smooth brick.
And what was in the centre of the raised platform, of course. If it wasn’t for that, I would have sworn I’d passed out and woken up in a Hilton spa.
Walking up to the platform, my MDMA well and truly at full effect, I smacked my lips and said:
‘Not what I was expecting.’
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Jack Ladd 