"Are you going to book the tickets" she replied through email. He had sent her a link, Subject Line: Rope- Fun NSFW. The body cryptically said: "I think this might be interesting..." a link was provided and when she surreptitiously clicked it, she discovered that he was suggesting a live bondage stage show.

The image and the thought of attended it excited her. A few weeks back, she had been hesitant to mention a secret fantasy she had when he had prompted her. It was only because of the years of trust and love that in a moment of weakness and trust, she revealed to him one of her fantasies. What would he think of her? She had wondered as the words slipped out of her mouth. Would he find her disgusting and perverted? That seemed hardly the case as over the last few years he had led her down a path of lust, passion and looking back at it now, perversion. She had remembered the day he had shared his deep fantasy. It took a lot of courage for him to do that, just like she had just done.

Their marriage had grown stale and truth be told, they were more roommates than husband and wife most times. She had almost given up hope when he sat behind her in bed one night and wrapped his long arms around her. Embraced and in his grasp, with shaky voice, he voiced what they both knew: What they had was not working.

He was tired of how they had drifted apart and more importantly, how he was not being true to himself.

Everything he said rang true, deep within her. Things needed to change, or else she could easily see them divorcing.

She hoped that he would take her confessed fantasy as well as she did, with an open mind and a hint of excitement.

"I want to watch other people have sex ... live..." she said the last part softly; barely a whisper and he asked her to repeat it. When she did, he smiled and held her to him. It was a warm smile and he thanked her for sharing with him her fantasy. He wasn't disgusted with her, he was excited!

They spoke for a little while and he asked gentle, clarifying questions. The matter was dropped and she had felt good about the conversation. He hadn't judged. He still accepted her as a person, partner, and wife. He accepted her as a woman that night as well, as both of them were unusually quiet while making love. Both were wrapped up in their thoughts and fantasies.

Back to the present, in front of her glowing computer screen she hurriedly typed in a reply: "can we get tickets?" After she had hit send, she felt the finality of the situation. She had committed to who knows what. Sure she could always call him and cancel, but that would be chickening out.

"I got the tickets," he said when he picked her up from work. Her stomach dropped a little in fear.

"Oh?" she replied. That should keep him talking for a few minutes while she regained her composure.

He explained about getting her email and immediately purchasing the tickets, before she had a chance to wimp out. She had nodded at that, her throat dry from fear, or excitement?

It was an industrial part of town. They passed warehouse, after warehouse, traveling the streets as the sun slowly descended past the hills. There was an orange glow that reflected off the large walls of broken windows, as they circled the block and spotted a small crowd of people waiting outside the address that had been given them after the tickets had been purchased. It was all so secretive!

Parking, they made their way to the address. There was a bite of cold in the air, rare in most places during the summer, but in San Francisco, all too common. They made eye contact with a number of people hovering around on the sidewalk, and glanced up at the building address. "2594" it read, not

"2592".

Puzzled, Michael looked to the next building. Its sign had "2590" on it. He turned to his wife Christina and shrugged. "Well, everyone else is waiting, so we must be in the right place..."

They waited, hugging each other for protection from the cold and the weird people that stumbled along the streets in this area. Not as bad as downtown, there was no stench of human urine permeating from the streets, but as they looked closer to the group of people waiting, there seemed to be a disconnect.

Most of the group didn't seem to be the type to go to something like this.

A few minutes later a truck pulled up and the guy jumping out was apparently the guest of honor as the group embraced him. Moving towards 2594's locked gate, they promptly unlocked it and started carrying party supplies in. A club meeting was what Michael and Christina overheard them say. Looking at each other, they turned their attention back to the other building.

It was an auto-body shop, the large address numbers in black clearly read 2590. Scanning the building, Michael found a small door, matching the plain tan color of the building walls. Scrawled out in what looked like a black Sharpie magic marker were the numbers: 2592.

He checked the door handle to find it unlocked. Opening the door, he was greeted by a middle aged man dressed in black with matching fedora. Wrapped around his waist, over his black "stage-crew" t- shirt was a small rope weave design. They were in the right place after all!

Michael breathed a sigh of relief when he gave the man his first name (first name only!) and he checked him and his "plus-1" off the list. It was going to be a few minutes so they had to wait outside until everything was ready.

Outside, the club was starting up a barbeque on the sidewalk. Christina spotted a couple, a little older than them walk across the street and head in towards them. She noticed the purple long coat and fashionable beret the woman wore. Touching Michael on the arm she motioned to the approaching couple.

"They're here for the show," she confirmed with absolute certainty.

Sure enough the couple seemed to be about ten years older, but aside from their age, the two couples were very similar. Both upper-middle class, childfree, good looking, and all four wore a gleam of adventure in their gazes.

"Here for the show?" Michael asked the couple. The woman, quite pretty had appraised the crowd working the grill beside them and there was a startled look to her eyes. Michael, as Christina had noticed many times before, took charge and soothed her fears.

"Don't worry, the little club next door is having a party. We're waiting to be let in over here." He nodded his attention to the small, barely noticeable door that read 2592. This was of course part of the adventure of going underground!

Christina was having fun as she kept trying to guess which pedestrians walking by were meant to join them for the show, and which were either passing by, or headed towards the club party next door.

"The show, for sure!" she whispered to Michael. He looked up and saw a skinny girl, long brown hair walk towards them. What stood out was the little plaid school girl outfit she wore; the skirt way too short to be allowed in any school they had ever attended!

"No fair!" he whispered back to her. "That was an easy one!"

Sure enough she entered through the door. Their own group grew and soon, once again, Michael took initiative and opened 2592 to see if they were ready to admit everyone. Fedora man nodded and they climbed the dark stairs one flight to find themselves in a makeshift space. A hallway led to a closed door.

Off the hallway was the glow of soft red lights. They took a step in to find a small bar, some small tables and two women smoking behind the bar.

The women, in their twenties had that rough-girl look. Torn stockings with runs in them, skimpy shirts and tight tank tops. They had chosen their non-outfits to proudly display their series of tattoos on their bodies. Designs, slogans and tribal patterns proved to on-lookers that they were indeed "alternative".

The nose rings were subtle and not altogether unattractive. With cheerful friendly faces they took his drink order.

Sipping a Newcastle, the two of them lingered at the bar. Michael asked a few questions and chatted with one of the girls. Christina clung next to Michael with wide eyes as she scanned the crowd that was filling up the room. Her eyes locked on one woman who strode up to the bar. Tray in hand she turned out to be the waitress, serving guests who had started to wait in the hallway. What stood out to Christina was her outfit.

"Didn't you two get the memo?" she told the two women behind the bar. "The theme for tonight was Too Cool for School!"

The waitress was dressed in a school teacher outfit. Formfitting black pencil skirt, with cross lacing tracing her shapely rear, stockings and patent leather black heels, she towered over the shorter girls behind the bar. She wore a white button up shirt and a black matching vest. Her hair was in a tight bun, with a wisp of it loose, dropping over her face. Tiny glasses hung on her nose as she seemed to sneer over them at the girls. Christina noticed the metal drafting ruler on the waitress' tray. Just long enough to spank a naughty school girl with!

They again engaged in polite small talk with the first couple. The woman had shrugged off her purple overcoat and was wearing a form fitting black dress, showing just a tad too much cleavage to be respectable. The man, kept his leather jacket on, but carried himself with a quiet strength. The topics were tame and normal. What does one say at events like this?

Michael noticed another couple come in. They were Hispanic. The woman wore a long rain coat. It took about ten minutes before they got acclimated to the scene and also warm enough for her to remove her coat and hand it over to her partner. This time it was Michael's turn to notice and whisper to Christina.

"Check out her outfit!' he said excitedly.

Christina swiveled and looked. The woman, shorter than her, had on a nice black and red dress. It wasn't shiny, so Christina assumed that the outfit was of cloth, not leather or latex. In the dark, she could just make out the wide black and red leather collar with the large "D" ring set in the front. This was in case there was ever a need to attach a leash to the collar, or perhaps tie something to it, like the wearers bound hands! Christina smiled and within she imagined how it would feel like if she were wearing that collar. What might Michael do with her while she wore that? Would he attach a leash to it and lead her around like a prized pet?

"See her wrists?" he whispered.

On each wrist she sported a matching black and red leather wrist cuff. Looking further down, Christina noticed matching ankle cuffs as well. When she brought her eyes back up the small lithe body, the woman caught her gaze. The two of them communicated something in that stare. Christina turned away first, the other woman smiled. "How would you like your own set?" Michael asked. Christina looked at him in shock at what he proposed and then smiled a little as she blushed. "I don't know ... could be interesting," she admitted.

A few minutes later, both of them were surprised to see a well dressed man in a blue business suit pull out a black gas-mask and don it in front of his two friends. "Oh my!" Christina whispered.

Soon the door at the end of the hallway was opened and everyone entered. The stage was one corner of the room. The room itself, surrounded by dark black curtains was maybe fifty feet, by fifty feet. Small café tables were set up around the stage, with plastic folding chairs placed around them. The back of the room had taller bar-type chairs, and the two of them chose to sit there so that they could see over the rest of the crowd up front, but also so that they wouldn't be too close to the action. Michael wanted to make sure that Christina would be comfortable and not feel threatened. She was always shy, and it took a little while for her to warm up to social settings.

Christina's eyes keep following the sexy school-teacher waitress as she wove her way through the crowd to get and serve drink orders. Perched atop those tall black heels, Christina always had a healthy respect for any woman who could move in them gracefully. She had never been successful with heels and it was a source of frustration between herself and Michael. She knew that he found heels extremely sexy, but she had never been able to master them. She noticed that he was watching the waitress as well.

"That's a hot outfit!" she mentioned to him.

"Yes it is," he replied as he wrapped his arm around her.

"I think I would look good in an outfit like that!"

He nodded his agreement. "You would look much hotter." He told her and she smiled at that.

This evening was a rare event for her to actually put makeup on. Never mind the fact that they were apparently running late and he had only given her two minutes to do it, she had held her ground and was able to put on her face in only ten minutes. Still too long for his liking, but she was proud of the fact that he kept staring at her face. She would look back at him and ask him, "What?"

"You just look great tonight! Very beautiful!"

That warranted a kiss from her, even though she was normally against PDA's (Public Displays of Affection). Michael was a "bulk-talker". He said a lot of things. His wonderful mind was always working a mile a minute. Sometimes what came out of his mouth was wrong, or inappropriate, but he always seemed to make things up with his showered appreciations on her. He made her always feel special, and wanted. He had a knack for making situations seem like it was the two of them against the rest of the world. It was a special club membership with a limit of two members only.

There wasn't so much a dimming of the lights, which were really just an assortment of home track- lighting with colored bulbs in them, as there was a softening of the music. A young woman dressed like a chick from the seventies strolled out arm in arm with a short plump hipster guy. He wore thick-plastic framed glasses, had mutton-chop sideburns and of course was dressed all in black.

A little scene was played out with a soundtrack of great seventies rock songs blaring in the background.

The girl, wearing blue-jean shorts pulled out some Japanese bondage books and began showing them to her would be boyfriend. As they scanned the pictures, the audience grew quiet. Looking around, Michael saw all eyes focused on the small makeshift stage. Christina, he noticed, was also very interested in the show.

Next the girl pulled out from her purse a coil of rope and started showing and kissing her boyfriend.

Soon, he got the hint and started tying her hands behind her. The coils of rope wrapped around and around her chest, first over and then under leaving two channels of rope framing her large soft breasts.

Michael had pointed out a large metal ring hanging from the ceiling earlier, and the "boyfriend" now made good use of it as he started feeding the rope through it. Soon, the girl was naked, helpless and hanging from the ring. Rope wrapped around parts of her body making anchor points from which to distribute her weight as she now acted unsure of her predicament. Christina watched fascinated as the man put the girl through a few positions, her leg dangling to her side, and a web of rope coming down from the metal hoop like some macramé triangle of deviant bondage.

"Smack!"

The man had spanked the girl's bare bottom and Christina could see a glowing red handprint fade into focus on the pale girl's freckled backside. Christina's breath quickened as she remembered all the times that Michael had spanked her in sexual play. She felt Michael's arm tighten around her, he too was excited!

After the spanking, the "boyfriend" pulled out a rubber phallus and rubbed her body with it. She struggled in her bonds but could not escape the clutches of her captor. He had tied her well and her legs had been pulled away from each other, exposing her delightfully red haired womanly folds for him to abuse. Grabbing some lube, he slowly inserted the foreign object in her and flipped a switch. The bound redhead's face switched from one of pain and discomfort to one of shock and happy surprise! The heavy guitar twanged away as the soundtrack beat in rhythm to the strokes that he was giving her. She swung around and around as the audience saw all sides of her and the insistent hand that built her moaning up to a fevered high pitch. Despite the loud music, her screams of pleasure were audible and unmistakable.

Soon she collapsed in the webbing of her rope prison and he expertly lowered her down and untied her.

The music cut off and they skipped off the stage to disappear behind a curtain. The audience erupting in cheers and the music returned to a soft level. It was intermission.

As some of the crowd bolted for the single restroom, Michael and Christina stood up and stretched.

Christina was quiet as she tried to take in what she had just witnessed. Michael watched her, but decided to give her some time alone with her thoughts. Music played in the background as people wandered back from the toilets and the bar. Soon the waitress appeared coming around for drink orders. Her ruler was still balanced on her oval tray.

Christina eyed her and after some time she leaned towards Michael and asked, "I wonder if she would spank you with the ruler?"

Michael looked at her and there was a wild gleam in his eyes. The waitress passed by them and got some drink orders from Gasmask man and a slightly chubby blond girl with a burgundy and black corset.

Their seats were arranged so that all traffic actually had to squeeze past them, and Christina wondered whether Michael was enjoying himself each time a costumed pretty young thing would squeeze by him.

Funny how each of the girls would push their shapely tushies out just a little farther while passed by him!

The intermission seemed to last forever, and Christina was getting a little thirsty. "Sir, might I have a bottle of water?" she asked him.

Michael nodded and scanned the room for the waitress. Finding her he made eye contact and motioned that he wanted to place an order. She sauntered over. Her button up shirt had been unbuttoned and her soft pale bosom threatened to fall out each time she leaned forward to serve drinks. They both noticed some of the customers placing dollar bill tips in between her breasts.